By Basil Fernando
(February 27 Hong Kong, Sri Lanka Guardian) Peter Mountford who returned from a visit to Sri Lanka writes in an article ‘Sri Lanka’s hr and free speech problems need international attention’ (Seattle Times Editorial 27th February):
At the core of Sri Lanka’s problems is a rotten constitution, which gives the president near dictatorial power. Opposition members in parliament are easily bought through cushy ministerial appointments, and the chief justice of the Supreme Court is appointed by the president.
This core problem about the constitution is no secret or mystery to anybody except for some people in the so-called Ministry of Disaster Management and Human Rights who claim that they are writing a human rights plan for Sri Lanka. In that plan there is nothing that deals with the ‘rotten constitution’ that creates the all the human rights problems in the country. In fact, the rotten constitution is the real disaster that the country is faced with. Trying to make a plan to deal with the disastrous situation of human rights in the country without dealing with the rotten constitution is of course, a big lie. But for people who have become accustomed living with that big lie the inconsistency between a plan for human rights and a rotten constitution is not a big problem.
Of course in practical terms such a human rights plan is merely eye wash and meant to deceive only some foreign experts who may be willing to throw some money to create the pretext that they are doing something about human rights in Sri Lanka. One lie begets another and a chain of lies is created to the point where the creators can no longer tell the difference between truth and fabrication. That too is part of the human rights disaster in Sri Lanka.
One of the big lies in that plan is that Sri Lanka’s policing problems, such as the failure to investigate human rights abuses and the widespread torture that constantly manifests itself in incidents such as the drowning of Ballawarnum Sivarkumar at Bambilipitya Sea, the killing of Thilakasari at Inginiagala at the Senanayake Water Reserve and a host of custodial killings that are heard of frequently, is due to the defects of police training. That the rotten constitution has destroyed the command responsibility within the policing institution and thereby deprived if of the capacity to function rationally, does not enter into the analysis of the authors of this great human rights plan.
The impression that is created is that the failure to investigate into the assassination of Lasantha Wickrematunge or the abduction and disappearance of Prageeth Ekaniliagoda and the brutal attack on Poddala Jayantha are all due to defects of police training. However, for the average citizen these failures appear to be caused by the very planners and executors of these brutal acts. The very nature of these acts is such that nobody is allowed to investigate into these incidents. When there are politically designed acts of repression against opponents of the government, whether they be journalists, independent lawyers or opposition politicians, or other political activists, part of that design is also to prevent any real investigations by law enforcement agencies. Thus, the paralysis in investigations is part of the pattern of repression.
The crisis of policing in Sri Lanka is part of the crisis of the rotten constitution. When the constitutional safeguards on the rights of citizens are removed by political design there is nothing that the police can do. The will to investigate will return only when such investigations are made possible politically. Until that happens the human rights disaster in Sri Lanka will continue and of course, all kinds of plans like the human rights plan for Sri Lanka will be created by those who are paid for creating such big lies.
Annex: Today’s Seattle Times editorial
Sri Lanka's human-rights and free-speech problems need international attention
Sri Lanka's civil war might be over, but the European Union recently dropped the island's preferential trade status because of human-rights violations. Guest columnist Peter Mountford says Sri Lankan media are not free to discuss the challenges, so the best hope is international attention.
By Peter Mountford
In post-civil war Sri Lanka, where democratic institutions are more imperiled than ever, the international press has a vital role to play — even more important than the diplomatic efforts of our governments — in forcing greater transparency and accountability.
I just spent two weeks in Sri Lanka and whenever I sat down with someone in Colombo to ask their opinion of the country's political situation, they'd scan the room, lean in close, and ask if we could talk off the record. When I called opposition journalists they demurred, and suggested that we meet in person. They wouldn't say it out loud, but my driver did: "The phones are all tapped," he explained with refreshing bluntness.
I asked if he thought my phone at the Hilton might be bugged. He bobbled his head vaguely, hesitating, and said, "Well ... "
This was an example of what Kesara Abeywardena, a journalist from The Daily Mirror — the closest thing there is to an independent newspaper on the island — referred to as Sri Lanka's "culture of self-censorship." Abeywardena used to write a political column, but decided it would be better to broaden his focus.
"For your safety?" I asked.
"Well ... " he replied, smiling slightly.
Over the last year, numerous journalists have, in the grim local parlance, been "white vanned." The latest, Prageeth Eknaligoda, a vocal critic of the government, has been missing since Jan. 24. Chandana Sirimalwatte, the editor of an opposition paper, Lanka, was recently detained by the police and his newspaper was ordered to stop printing.
Since President Mahinda Rajapaksa came to power, arrest warrants increasingly have been used to muzzle opponents. Earlier this month, to the shock of the West, police picked up the main opposition candidate, Sarath Fonseka (literally, apparently, as he was unwilling to get out of his chair). Last week they arrested Fonseka's son-in-law's mother. At the end of January a dozen or so ranking members of the military — all allies of Fonseka — were fired or arrested.
The charges, in all of these cases, are trumped up. The point is the message, and the message is, "We will get you. If you're not around, we'll get your next of kin."
Malinda Seneviratne, a sharp but unabashedly pro-government journalist, is the only person I spoke to who was happy to go on the record about anything. He said that these things have been going on for years, but no one complained because the country was mired in civil war.
"The problem," he said, "is that we continue to live under 'emergency rule,' even though the war is over. These kinds of policies made a kind of sense when we were dealing with all the terrorism, and the war. But the war's over. It's not necessary anymore."
Over the past 30 years, Sri Lanka has undergone extraordinary changes in order to cope with the day-to-day reality of the war. The changes are systemic and will be almost impossible to undo. Now that the war has ended, people in the West have begun to take notice. Major news outlets have been decrying the failure of Sri Lankan democracy, as if it's something new. It's not. A few wartime presidents were somewhat friendlier, but the underlying political structure was the same.
At the core of Sri Lanka's problem is a rotten constitution, which gives the president near dictatorial power. Opposition members in parliament are easily bought through cushy ministerial appointments, and the chief justice of the Supreme Court is appointed by the president.
A populist and a nationalist in the mold of Hugo Chávez, President Rajapaksa is able to win political points by defying diplomatic pressure from the West, a fact that often makes the application of that pressure self-defeating. On Feb. 16, the European Union dropped Sri Lanka's preferential trade status because of human-rights violations, but the lead article on the issue in Sri Lanka's state-run newspaper began with a prideful quote from Rajapaksa's central bank governor, "Sri Lanka is not prepared to barter its sovereignty for the sake of regaining the tariff concession and will continue with its stated policy instead of giving in to any unfair demands."
As long as the government can control the conversation like that — deftly transforming international concern about human rights into the politically attractive issue of sovereignty — there will be little impetus for reform. Accountability and openness go hand in hand. So the first step forward falls to the press. Since the Sri Lankan press can't speak up for itself, it's the duty of the international press to speak on its behalf.
So the best thing we can do right now is continue flooding the newswires with stories about the disastrous state of Sri Lankan democracy. Kesara Abeywardena may have to choose his words carefully, lest he get white vanned, but I just flew home to Seattle, so I'll go ahead and call it like I see it.
Peter Mountford is in his second year as a writer in residence at Seattle Arts & Lectures. His first novel will be published in 2011 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
A new lie – police training without constitutional reforms
