Archives

The Storm's Eye by Prof.Rajiva Wijesinghe

Many years ago, when I was at university, I had a friend who was heir to a vast fortune. Unfortunately his girl friend, who was slightly older than him, was terribly indiscreet. She told us one day, giggling, that Tim had come to her in a state of great gloom and declared, 'I'm rich. I'm handsome. I'm intelligent. Why am I miserable?'

Musing the other day on the sad state our country is in, I was reminded of that story. And it occurred to me that, perhaps of an evening when half a dozen new ministers are sworn in, when the LTTE brings in six more anti-aircraft guns, when the different factions of the Muslim Congress expel each other, when Thondaman declares Kotmale a sacred area, when Tyronne gives jobs to twenty more drivers, Ranil, sipping his Samahan or whatever it is he and Maithri imbibe of a quiet evening at home, might say sadly, 'I'm rich. I'm handsome. I'm intelligent. I'm honest. Why are things going wrong?"

And unfortunately I suspect that Maithri, who is much younger than him, though twice as beautiful and twice as intelligent and twice as honest, would say, without batting an eyelid, 'That's because there's no one else like you in the Cabinet. Not even in the whole country.'

Ranil of course would not have married someone like Marie-Louise, who would have giggled at him, however devotedly, and perhaps that is just as well.

But unfortunately I suspect that no one in his inner circle tells him what is wrong, particularly with his management style. I had hopes of Chari, whom he does trust, but I suspect even Chari, with talents more suited to positive rather than negative action, is quite diffident now.

About eighteen months ago, it may be recalled, Ranil offered to send Chari to negotiate with Chandrika, and she categorically refused to see him. I remember telling Chari then that I had never suspected Ranil to have such a wry sense of humour. But we agreed that even Chandrika could not be blamed for the paranoia that seemed to affect her, because the absolute power she had would corrupt anyone. It might even happen to Ranil, said Chari thoughtfully, to which I agreed. The only person who might be immune to such temptations, he added, was Karu, and I agreed again.

At the time I thought the conversation indicated that even Chari had now grown up and realized that Ranil, however rich and intelligent and honest, would also need restraining if he came to a position of absolute power. It took me a few months to realize I had been tested, and had failed, in a context in which Karu was seen as a potential rival, following the demarche he and Athukorale had delivered some months earlier.

Failing such tests is I feel a point in one's favour. The tragedy after all is the paranoia such an approach encourages in the boss, and the few people he trusts or respects. These, like poor Chari, sent to negotiate about AirLanka, or gather information about the Telecommunications Industry, are grossly overworked, and end up reacting in knee jerk fashion that gets increasingly desperate.

This ham fisted method of government has been exemplified most recently in the new Consumer Affairs Act, which omitted any provisions regarding monopolies, which must surely be a vital aspect of any open economic system.

I was told this was at the urging of yet another of Ranil's whiz kids, Prof Samarajeewa (the Thor of the telephone industry too), since he advocated the British model rather than many other countries. However, there seems to be no urgency about a companion act, as there is in Britain, so once the new Act is gazetted there will be no protection against monopolies.

We may however be safe for a few weeks more. Last month orders went out that the new Act had to be amended. Apparently the provision about protection with regard to services was to be cut, following representations by various professional bodies. No matter that recent news reports make clear how vital it is that professionals too come under scrutiny. The bosses have been convinced that they should be immune.

Now Ranil's answer to all this confusion is to complain, just like Chandrika, of the material he has to work with, and to claim that he - and his trusted advisers - have to do everything.

But here is a matter that was not delegated, neither when the original act was rushed through, nor when a sudden change was decreed. The trouble with too much control, and too much self-confidence, is that nothing, but nothing, will move. No wonder Ranil will have to continue miserable - until he learns just a little bit of modesty.

News | Business | Features | Editorial | Security
Politics | World | Letters | Sports | Obituaries |

Produced by Lake House
Copyright 2001 The Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd.
Comments and suggestions to :Web Manager