With others in the Indian cultural sphere, we celebrate the solar New Year in April. It is a time for looking back and looking ahead. This April is special because it also marks one year from the start of the Aragalaya – Sri Lanka’s historic effort to effect system change.
Looking back
At the end of three months of mostly peaceful protests, the principal objectives of the Aragalaya were achieved – a feared and powerful President resigned; the power of the Rajapaksa family and ideology was significantly reduced.
The country did not descend into anarchy. Only around 12 people lost their lives, though there was considerable property damage. The triggers for the protest were cooking gas shortages, power cuts, and fuel queues. Cooking gas shortages were alleviated, though at high prices, which is better than apartments catching fire because people were using firewood. From 13-hour power cuts, things have considerably improved, though with significant price increases, but still not the tenfold increases experienced in Lebanon.
Database-linked fuel rationing is in place for vehicles. Rationing is not ideal and leakages amounted to as much as 40% of fuel dispensed. At the peak of the crisis, energy consumption was down by 40%. This was bad for the economy but was better than the chaos of people standing in line for days and the rampant black market.
Inflation accelerated. The food ratio is at 1990s levels (over 60% of household expenditure spent on food), which means that the quality of life of most Sri Lankans has deteriorated immensely. But supply chains have mostly recovered.
Some believed that it was not enough. Peratugami Leader Kumar Gunaratnam said at a news conference held on 10 July 2022 that the Constitution would henceforth be what the Aragalaya said it was. He claimed that in the same way that the President’s mandate had been annulled by the Aragalaya, the Legislature too lacked a mandate.
People like Gunaratnam would have preferred it if the Legislature (and possibly the Judiciary as well, though this was not stated explicitly) ceased to function according to the Constitution. In effect, their prescriptions would have resulted in the country descending into anarchy.
Why no anarchy?
In the early phase, the Aragalaya sought to insulate itself from mainstream politics. It was hostile to the emergence of leaders or spokespersons. This was egalitarian, but highly problematic. Who does one negotiate with? How are decisions to be taken? Power took the form of veto power. When the Government offered to negotiate, there was no one who could engage on the other side. Had anyone ventured to do so, they would have been subjected to cancellation.
Galle Face Green was the principal site, but the Aragalaya was not limited to that single location. On 21 April 2022, less than two weeks into the protest, the first attempt was made by groups associated with the late Mangala Samaraweera to connect mainstream politicians with the Aragalaya.
Pretty much the entire spectrum of political parties, apart from Gunaratnam’s Peratugami party and the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), participated in this event at Viharamahadevi Park. The yellow flowers that were handed out symbolised this effort. They reappeared on subsequent occasions such as a bail hearing in Kesbewa.
This was a time when time seemed compressed. There seemed no time to see if one initiative worked before trying another. The protesters were steadfast, but it was not clear how their principal demand for an end to the Rajapaksa regime would be achieved. The economy was spiralling and politics were paralysed. Any day, repression could kick in.
By the end of the month, another effort was made to connect the Aragalaya with mainstream politics. A group of religious leaders led by Ven Omalpe Sobhitha Thera arranged for an exchange of views with political leaders, again away from Galle Face. The responses were lukewarm.
This effort was amplified by building a bigger platform for interaction – the launch of the Mahajana Sabha at BMICH on 21 May involving civil society organisations and trade unions. Speakers included representatives from the different youth groups active at the Aragalaya site at Galle Face. These were simply illustrative initiatives. No claim is made that there were no others.
By 21 May, the ground had shifted. The assault on the protesters by the supporters of then Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa changed the liberal character of the Aragalaya. Peratugami-affiliated student groups assumed greater prominence. The reprisals against those who attended the event at Temple Trees and the homes of politicians across the country tainted the non-violent character of the Aragalaya.
Mahinda Rajapaksa resigned, along with the entire Cabinet. Ranil Wickremesinghe was appointed Prime Minister and the President committed to reverse yet another of his mistakes – the 20th Amendment to the Constitution.
By June, another principal of the Rajapaksa family, former Finance Minister Basil Rajapaksa resigned his seat in Parliament. On Bastille Day in July, the President’s letter of resignation was accepted. The Rajapaksa family no longer occupied positions in the Executive.
Parallel to these political developments, the talks with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and creditors were ongoing. By end-June, fuel rationing was implemented, ending the fuel queues. It was now possible to obtain cooking gas. The duration of the power cuts was reduced.
Efforts to form an all-party cabinet based on a Common Minimum Programme did not succeed, though the President was able to assemble a new Cabinet with greater representation of younger MPs from multiple parties who were not members of the previous Cabinet. Elements of the broadly-consulted Common Minimum Programme made it into Government policy, position papers of the Opposition, and even the IMF agreement.
By August, a new President had been elected according to the procedures set out in the Constitution. Activity in Parliament picked up. The protest sites at Galle Face were forcefully closed. Parliament and the Presidential Secretariat, the latter wrested back from occupiers, were again loci of power. By October, the 20th Amendment was rolled back, but not exactly back to where it was before, because the Supreme Court prevented the full restoration of the 19th Amendment.
The Rajapaksas were gone from the Executive, but there was little change in the composition of the Legislature, other than Basil Rajapaksa being replaced by a business tycoon and Wickremesinghe’s seat being occupied by his party’s chairman. There was no interim government and no new elections as demanded by many including those from the Aragalaya.
Gotabaya appointed officials such as the secretaries to the president and Treasury and the Central Bank Governor was replaced. On the demand that the ‘stolen money’ be recovered, there was no movement other than the drafting of a new law to replace the current, dysfunctional statute.
Clearly a mixed result, if measured against the stated demands. But it must be noted that there was no unanimity on demands other than the departure of the President and an undefined demand for system change.
Looking forward
The fact that the same people elected in 2020 are still running the Legislature and that a person first elected to Parliament in 1977 is the President is seen by some as evidence of the Aragalaya’s failure. The media headlines are not fundamentally different in 2023 from the past years. The standard of living has declined to levels from years ago, but life is not as bad as it was last year. Is this the ‘system change’ that was sought?
A different set of political decision-makers would have required a revolution and a period of chaos. This would have had to happen during the four months of active street protests, which were also the direst in terms of the economy and access to essentials by the people. It would have entailed significant suffering.
As Chairman Mao said: “A revolution is not a dinner party.” A disorderly transfer of power amid debt restructuring negotiations would have also caused that process to stall and for the economy to head in the direction of Lebanon.
The political actors appear unchanged, but in fact, their behaviour has changed. How else could one explain how the same people who voted for the adoption of the 20th Amendment, voted to rescind it just two years later? And how traditional stances on issues such as restructuring of State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs) and trade agreements have softened, if not completely reversed?
The restoration of sectoral oversight committees, with structured participation of members of the public, has the potential to transform the way the Legislature performs its constitutional duties. After some delay, these committees were appointed just a few weeks back.
Work is underway on creating 14,000 oversight and citizen-input committees called Jana Sabha at the level of the smallest administrative units – the Grama Niladhari divisions. If implemented correctly, with course corrections based on experience, they could be a major contribution of the Aragalaya to changing the political culture of Sri Lanka.
It is widely recognised that the present electoral system has contributed to the loss of trust between representatives and the public. It has increased the costs of campaigning and thereby created the conditions for corruption in order to finance campaigns. The stalemate on decentralising power in ways that would also alleviate the concerns of minorities continues.
The Legislature appears to have given up on reforming the Provincial Council Elections, with the result that an entire level of constitutional government has been shut down for over four years. The delimitation committee’s report that will, if properly implemented, reduce the number of Local Government councillors by half is the only good news from this front.
System change
System change must involve changes in procedure, in the way things are done. But many appear to equate system change with a change in the people in charge.
The irony is that the people in charge changed in 2019 when Gotabaya Rajapaksa was elected with a mandate to undertake system change. His short tenure and the failure of his appointees is evidence that simply changing people, or more specifically replacing professional politicians with amateurs, is no guarantee of system change.
So, what the people of Sri Lanka face today is a choice between (a) changing people so that procedures will be changed, as some continue to demand, and (b) changing procedures using the same people, which is what appears to be happening since August 2022. Even regarding the latter option, the question of whether (b1) the changes are adequate or (b2) not can be debated.
A complete change of decision-makers did not happen. The earliest a Presidential Election can be called is the second half of 2024, unless the Constitution is amended. A General Election can be called before August 2025, if the President decides or if a majority of MPs decide. So, the earliest a change in the principal decision-makers can happen is late 2024. Option (a) is currently not relevant.
As indicated by the examples of the constitutional amendment and sectoral oversight committees above, option (b) describes what is happening now. The time taken to appoint the committees, the composition of the committees, etc. leave room for debate on whether what is happening is option (b1) or option (b2).
The only way (b2) can be avoided and (b1) realised is citizen engagement. The realistic path to system change is continued citizen engagement, ramping up systemic efforts to influence the nominations for the elections when they are called in November 2024, August 2025, or earlier.
It is this continuous systematic engagement (or an Aragalaya by different means) that will bring about system change, not nihilistic opposition to duly elected leaders of the Executive and Legislature.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication.
(The writer is founding Chair of LIRNEasia, an ICT policy and regulation think tank active across emerging Asia)