It is becoming increasingly obvious now that the question for the people of Sri Lanka is not whether President Chandrika Kumaratunga would take the “lifeline” offered by the Marxist JVP, but what price she would be required to pay. The information available indicates a heavy price at first glance; but a second look makes one wonder.
For the Marxists, however, the switch of role from that of an opposition party ever-on-the-fringe to that of the force that keeps the government in power would represent a change of fortune it had not even dreamed of in the past. Apart from the political clout, it will also mean sweet revenge for the JVP. It is not every day that a party decimated by the mother is called upon, and offers, to rescue her daughter from drowning. In 1971, Kumaratunga’s mother, the then Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike, crushed the JVP’s first insurrection in a single week that saw some 20,000 people killed by security forces. Its second attempt at revolution, between 1987 and 1990, brought much more bitter results. While the party is reported to have killed at least 6,000 mainstream politicians during that period, the number of its cadre, workers and sympathizers eliminated by security forces and vigilante groups was 60,000, according to a report by European members.
It now looks that what all those deaths and killings could not achieve in the past is within the reach of the party thanks to the political logjam Kumaratunga finds herself in. She needs the 10 votes the party commands to stave off a humiliating defeat in Parliament. The crisis was triggered when seven Muslim allies walked out of her government turning her administration into a minority in the 225-member house.
This is not a situation that Kumaratunga relishes. The demands that the JVP is reported to have made in exchange for salvaging her shaky coalition, observers say, go not only against her instinct as a product of one of the most aristocratic families of the country, but also against her right-wing convictions. The party is insisting that the government halt its ambitious privatization plan and suspend the Norwegian-backed peace bid. However, for Kumaratunga, it is not the time to worry about instincts and convictions. She has no choice but to come to a deal with the Marxists. Of course, she may plan a delay in translating the promises into actions for a while, say another year, within which the scene may change again. One year is a long time in politics. The JVP’s statement that it wants to subject Kumaratunga’s government to a “one-year” probation period guarantees that. Besides, the most important demand of the JVP, that the government must stop the privatization plan, may come cheap for Kumaratunga. She is not presiding over an economy in the healthiest of conditions. Investors, who fear an economic crisis, are not rushing to plow in money into the economy. The government is now facing the predicament of finding no takers for the offers of sale made so far. Its promise to the IMF that it would raise $275 million in the privatization process this year has come to nothing.
So is it a dream that is being negotiated in Sri Lanka? A price that is satisfactorily heavy for the seller, and attractively cheap for the buyer?
