Learning to live without GSP Plus

On May 19, 2009 we entered a post-LTTE period in our post-Independence history. A year later we were told that in August 2010 we would enter a post-GSP Plus period. Those who salivated when they promised that this ‘mechanism’ will be used to arm-twist us into giving Prabhakaran enough of a breather so that terrorism could survive (I am thinking of the likes of Benito Ferrero-Waldner here) are salivating less now (the Sri Lankan Government didn’t blink on that occasion, as many of its predecessors had) but still drooling a bit at lip-end. The Europeans have the right to spit, to drool and so on. It’s their saliva after all. The question is, how are we going to celebrate this post-GSP Plus situation?

Well, to be honest, some people are not celebrating. They are not drooling but they are nevertheless quite a bit down-in-the-mouth. Let us admit that as a nation we wanted this facility and on occasions even swallowed our pride. We conferred on GSP Plus more weight than it deserved. We forgot in the rush that it was an addition, a bonus above the bonus called GSP. We forgot, as we usually do, that when we whine, when we please-and-thank-you, we cannot really expect to be treated with respect and honour.

We can and must tell these do-gooders where to get off. We have to tell them that they are sanctimonious humbugs. We have to tell them that we know it’s not about love, but about mutual gain, that when the EU offers us some concessions, the European consumer benefits. We have to tell them that they can’t be two-tongued when they talk about human rights and measures of good governance. We have to ask them why they ignore the fact that certain countries they favour are guilty of using and permitting child labour. We must tell them that we know their track-record.

What is the bottom line, though? The bottom line is that we are asking for something and in ways that indicate that we need it more than they need it. That’s where the arm-twisting happens. At the end of the day, we have to deal with a cost. There is a direct ‘loss’ of some US$ 150 million. There will be social and political costs in the event of (inevitable) layoffs and such.

US$ 150 million is not as big as it used to be of course, but it is certainly not pocket money either. It is not a matter of pulling out US$ 150 million from one pocket and putting it into another, this I know. It is more complicated than that. On the other hand, I think that if we break it up a little, we can get a better perspective and therefore acquire the ability to deal with this and similar situations in the future in a more reasonable and less rhetoric-driven manner.

Let’s say that I have a fixed income. I get a salary increment once a year, let’s assume. In the meantime we have inflation. Each week, when I go to the pola I have to pay more for the basket of goods that I purchase or have to bring home less than I did by paying the same amount of money I pocketed out the previous week. I live in a flat, one of those no-garden-except-balcony hovels in a multi-storey housing scheme, let us say. I can spend a few rupees and buy some seeds. I can save some roots from the gotukolaa mitiya and/or the nivithi-mitiya (spinach) that I purchased. I can collect some soil from somewhere and stick these in. I will be getting my full gotukola and spinach requirements for the year beginning next month. That’s a lot of money saved.

Let’s assume I smoke (I don’t, by the way). Let’s assume I smoke 20 cigarettes a day. If I quit today I would be saving over Rs 10,000 a month. If I reduce to 10 a day I would save Rs 5,000. I have electricity. I can keep the garden light on. I can keep a light on in the dining area when I step into the living room to watch Brazil play Chile in the World Cup Semi-Final. I could also turn that light off. In short, I can save. I can be thrifty.

Let’s assume that in these and other ways I save Rs 13,000 a month. That’s Rs 156,000 a year. Let’s assume that 100 families save a similar amount a month. That’s Rs 15.6 million rupees a year. What if half a million families join this thrift scheme? As a nation we would have with us an extra Rs 78,000,000,000,000.00 a year.

We don’t have to belt-tighten. We just need to be a bit smart. If every government institution removes one hoarding (and each institution has many) it will save a minimum of Rs 300,000 a year. Take out the brag-signs of each and every project and we will have so much money that we won’t need to ask China to build us this or that or ask Iran for oil-love.

There was a time when the world ‘security’ came with the word ‘threat’. Naturally, there were mechanisms to counter these threats and this invariably forced VIPs to have elaborate escorts, a virtual ratha perahara (motorcade) for every minister and lesser processions for the small fry. Today, post-threat, we still see these motorcades. I understand that politicians want to feel grand, but even a child would say that if you take five vehicles out of a motorcade that is made of 30, no one will notice. Just imagine the saving on fuel. Five vehicles, 30kms a day (being conservative here), multiplied by the number of VVIPs, 1 vehicle, 30 kms, multiplied by the number of VIPs, into 365, into the relevant fuel-cost.

President Mahinda Rajapaksa has to take the lead here. He has to start things rolling at the top, make the statement and do the needful.

We can beat the crap out of our enemies, not by raising our fist, throwing a Molotov Cocktail, thrusting our tongues out of screaming at them, but quietly, slowly, being the best we can be. Living within our means. Cutting the crap ourselves.

Let’s ask ourselves a question: what have I saved today? We are a people for whom thrift was second nature. Ask Dr P A Kiriwandeniya, the charismatic leader of the SANASA Movement and he will explain. We already have the model, we don’t need any ‘Grameening’ of Sri Lanka.

But forget all that. Did you switch off that light that is burning unnecessarily?

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