The democracy deficit in the UK and in Sri Lanka: a tale of two crises

Sri Lankan Parliament's speaker Karu Jayasuriya looks on as government and opposition members of the parliament confront each other during a special parliamentary session, Colombo, Sri Lanka. 15 November 2018. NurPhoto/ Press Association. All rights reserved.

Sri Lanka’s constitutional crisis was conjured up out of
thin air by President Maithripala Sirisena when he unilaterally and
unconstitutionally sacked the incumbent Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe,
appointed former President Mahinda Rajapaksa as the new PM, sacked the cabinet
and appointed a new cabinet. He then prorogued parliament to buy time for the
new (unconstitutional) PM to win a majority in the house (through bribery and
horse trading) and dissolved parliament when these attempts proved unsuccessful.

Multiple political parties, civil society groups and private
citizens petitioned the Supreme Court. The Court obliged by granting interim
relief through staying the gazette notification by which parliament was dissolved.

Parliament was duly reconvened, but a no-confidence motion against
Mahinda Rajapaksa and the ‘new’ government was obstructed by members of his
party, and the resultant vote by voice, which the speaker conveyed to the
president was not accepted. This process was repeated over the next two days,
but on each occasion the chamber erupted into a brawl as MPs hurled objects at
the speaker (who even needed police protection). The behaviour of these MPs was
all the evidence needed to show that Sri Lanka’s constitutional crisis grew out
of a much deeper-seated political catastrophe.

The UK’s political crisis has been brewing in a Brexit sized
teacup for months. The scheming, in-fighting and backstabbing within the Tory
party, has been unravelling like an ultra-slow-motion car crash. The gist of it
is that former Prime Minister David Cameron called a referendum to resolve a
growing party split between the far right wing which harks back to the glory
days of empire, in which England (for let’s face it, this has little to do with
the other home nations) was colonial master of the world, and the rest of the
party which was happy to continue muddling along destroying the National Health
Service while reaping the benefits of the single market and European Union.

The referendum was to advise the government on whether the
UK should remain in the EU or leave. The government, which had routinely scapegoated
the EU for many of its own failures, unconvincingly threw its weight behind the
remain campaign.  The vote was lost,
leading to Cameron’s resignation, Theresa May’s appointment as PM and a long
list of shambolic events that followed.

Meanwhile, the Labour party was fighting its own demons,
unable to unite, present a clear alternative vision on Brexit or capitalise on
any momentum gifted to it by the Tories. Things came to a head when the PM’s
deal with the EU was rejected by her own cabinet members (with multiple
resignations) her own party members (with calls of no-confidence against her),
her own coalition partner and the opposition writ large.

Caught up in these two storms, I am instinctively drawn to
comparison and wider reflection. In many ways, the countries are poles apart. The
UK is wealthy, with relatively strong democratic institutions. Sri Lanka’s
economy is struggling and its political history is filled with violence. But
since 2015, the UK’s democratic trajectory has been downward. Over the same
period, Sri Lanka has moved in the opposite direction, though the gains have
been painstakingly slow and marred by significant failures of government. All
this is to caveat what is to follow with the acknowledgement that any attempt
to compare may appear contrived and simplistic. But I forge ahead with four
thoughts, for sometimes it is the simple truths that matter most.

Power corrupts, but
it also isolates

Two of the central characters – our tragic (anti) hero and
heroine – are Sri Lankan President Maithripala Sirisena and British Prime
Minister Theresa May. While at first glance they may appear to occupy different
worlds, similarities abound. Both are conservative, with dated views on LGBTQI
rights for example, xenophobic and inward-looking tendencies. Neither Sirisena nor May cut larger than life figures and
both spent much of their political lives as party workhorses until unexpectedly
being thrust into the limelight.

Neither cut larger than life figures and both spent much of
their political lives as party workhorses until unexpectedly being thrust into
the limelight – Sirisena in spectacular fashion when in 2015, at great personal
risk he accepted the challenge to run for president against the incumbent
Rajapaksa; and May when she picked up the poisoned chalice that was Brexit.

Sirisena failed to implement his central campaign pledge to
eradicate the Executive Presidency, which concentrated too much power in one
unaccountable individual. A compromise nineteenth amendment to the Constitution,
which limited some presidential powers, was passed. It is this very amendment
that he violated to trigger the constitutional crisis.

May’s main job was to deliver Brexit. Unhappy with
Parliament trammelling her freedom, she prematurely called a general election
which exposed her for the one-dimensional, unimaginative leader she is. She
barely clung onto power by conjuring up one billion pounds to buy the support
of Northern Ireland’s ultra-conservative DUP, thereby unsettling the fragile
political balance and peace process in NI.

Sirisena and May have demonstrated their preparedness to
push the boundaries of acceptable political conduct to remain in power. (It
just so happens that the boundaries in Sri Lanka are larger and more porous.) Both
appear increasingly isolated and unhappy at the top, as they fend off real and
imagined foes from all sides. In May and Sirisena, we have two cautionary tales
– leaders who prioritise self and party over people – to the disadvantage of
all.

We face crises of
leadership, integrity and imagination

The behaviour of many British political leaders has been
nothing short of abhorrent. Rees-Mogg, Boris Johnson, David Davis, Nigel Farage
– these men have shown no qualms about misleading and lying to the public in
furtherance of their own narrow political ambitions. Sri Lanka boasts a
similarly long list of abhorrent ‘leaders’. The establishment – big business,
the media, the international community and the state itself – promotes,
legitimises and profits on the back of these lying, corrupt politicians. The closer
the alignment between capital and the political class, the more they protect
each other and the less they are likely to suffer the consequences of their
mistakes, deceit or corruption. It appears that the rewards for serving the
few, are many.

How can we truly be represented by self-serving liars? This
problem is further exacerbated by what is ultimately a lack of real choice for
voters. Both the UK and Sri Lanka are for all intents and purposes, two party
systems. Depending on where you live and what larger political ideology you
subscribe to, there is very little choice. This lack of choice is further
reinforced by the staggering mediocrity of many of those who put themselves
forward for election. A choice between a liar, a fool and a thief is no choice
at all. And so, barring a few exceptional politicians, parliaments are filled
with self-serving individuals who lack integrity and imagination and have no
real leadership qualities. This lack of choice is
further reinforced by the staggering mediocrity of many of those who put
themselves forward for election.

These characteristics were beautifully captured in a recent tweet
by Dominic Raab. The (former) Brexit secretary announced his resignation from
government the morning after the night before, with the tweet “Today, I have resigned as Brexit Secretary.
I cannot in good conscience support the terms proposed for our deal with the EU…”
Any outsider reading this tweet would be forgiven for not realising that it was
Raab himself who negotiated this deal that he found so unconscionable. As
Raab’s hypocrisy shines through, the real tragedy is that many before him have
gotten away with much worse.

Confrontational
Westminster style politics have failed us

The brawls in the Sri Lankan parliament caricature the worst
of Westminster-style politics. A confrontational system, which places a premium
on certain qualities – oratory, quick wit, the ability to secure cheap laughs and
demean your opposition – attracts a certain kind of person. The masculinity and
binary nature of the Westminster system is inadequate when the need of the day
is consensus, compromise and collective responsibility. Theresa May could have pursued an all-party approach to Brexit, but
her priority was to find agreement within her own party. She calculated that
this would neuter the opposition’s opposition.

Theresa May could have pursued an all-party approach to
Brexit, but her priority was to find agreement within her own party. She
calculated that this would neuter the opposition’s opposition. This tribalism of
Westminster style politics is dated, juvenile and not fit for purpose. A sharp
witticism or powerful speech may provide a rush of adrenaline but it will not
resolve an intractable conflict. No professionals in any other field take
decisions or resolve problems by shouting at each other. We need a more mature,
respectful and inclusive politics, which in turn would attract more serious politicians.

Referendums are not
democratic

The disaster which was the Brexit referendum left an open
wound in British society. Meanwhile fear abounds that President Sirisena may
try to pull out a referendum from his bag of tricks. Progressives in Sri Lanka
and the UK would convey their suspicion of referendums and of populist calls
for differences to be resolved through referenda.

In the UK, this suspicion is based on the very raw
experience of the Brexit poll splitting society down the middle. In Sri Lanka,
there is a further reason. As a multi-ethnic country, we know that referendums
are a majoritarian tool which silence the voice of minorities while amplifying
that of nationalistic majoritarianism.

What I find surprising, is the lack of sensitivity to this
reality among British commentators. The UK after all, is a devolved state
comprising four nations. The referendum results in Scotland and Northern
Ireland were very different to those in England and Wales. The majoritarian
English vote overpowered the Scottish and Irish minorities in the UK in a
manner that is undemocratic in a multicultural society. Democracy must protect
and respect minorities. If not, it is just another form of oppression. Democracy must protect and
respect minorities. If not, it is just another form of oppression.

A postscript

I’m a Sri Lankan who lives in the UK and works on
statelessness. Stateless persons – who have no nationality – are by definition
disenfranchised. They have no say in politics but are deeply impacted by the
decisions of politicians.

As I fight for every stateless person’s right to a
nationality so that they can politically participate on equal terms, I am
acutely aware that these ‘equal terms’ are very much an illusion. If Sri
Lanka’s constitutional crisis and Britain’s Brexit fiasco teach us one thing, perhaps
it is that democracy is too precious to be left to the politicians.