The First-Past-the-Post System

Sri Lanka has been singularly unlucky in the election systems it has adopted over the years. Initially we had the First-past-the-post system used in Britain, whereby the country was divided into constituencies which elected members by a simple majority. Only a few constituencies had more than one member. This system was designed to ensure representation of different communities where they were mixed up together so that two separate constituencies would not have served the purpose. Thus, Akurana usually elected one Sinhala and one Muslim member, while Nuwara Eliya, which became a multi-member constituency for the 1977 election, had one representative each of the United National Party (UNP), the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) and the Ceylon Workers Congress (CWC).

In general, however, (as opposed to the few multimember constituencies) the philosophy was that those who won, by however small a margin, took it all. In Britain, the effect of this is mitigated because there are certain constituencies which always stay with one party, so that a party that loses the election still has substantial strength in parliament. In Sri Lanka, however, where most constituencies are what are termed marginals, that is, a small shift either way changes the result, the two major parties found themselves reduced to very small numbers when they lost an election. Thus, the UNP got eight seats out of 101 in 1956 and seventeen out of 157 in 1970, while the SLFP had eight out of 168 in 1977. Conversely, the party that won had a massive majority, even though its share of the national vote was just around fifty per cent.

Politics is the study of Government. By government we mean those who take decisions on behalf of a country. We should remember, however, that the country itself is different from the government. We all belong to some country and will want to protect its interests, but this does not necessarily mean that we support the government of that country or its actions.

The formal term for a country that has its own government is ‘State’. As citizens we belong to a state. We have obligations to that state just as that state has obligations to us, whichever government rules it at any particular time.

Forms of the State

In the modern world, there are generally two forms of the state—Republics and Monarchies. The head of state represents officially all the citizens on formal occasions.

Monarchies

In a monarchy, the head of state is a king or queen (or a sultan or the equivalent), who holds that position through 6 Political Principles and their Practice in Sri Lanka heredity, that is, by birth. In the past, it was held that states belonged to monarchs. In theory, that is the case even today. However, in many monarchies now, the king has no real authority. Generally, that authority belongs to a separate head of government, who is chosen by the people. Britain (or the United Kingdom as it is officially known), Thailand and Japan are examples of monarchies where actual executive power belongs to a prime minister elected by the people. But even in such monarchies, where real authority lies with the head of government, that head of government acts officially in the name of the monarch.

Donoughmore Constitution and its Shortcomings

The main grievance of Ceylonese politicians with regard to the Manning-Devonshire Constitution was that while the Legislative Council, in theory, had authority over the government through its financial and legislative powers, it had no executive powers. The two representatives in the Executive Council, without responsibility for any specific area, could not really influence governmental action.

In response to these grievances, Britain sent another commission at the end of the 1920s to draw up a new constitution. In those years, Britain's Labour Prime Minister, Ramsay MacDonald, along with at least some members of the cabinet and parliament, was keen on reforms in the colonies. The Donoughmore Constitution, as it was known after the Chairman of the Commission, Lord Donoughmore, moved in radical new directions. It introduced Universal Suffrage, which was opposed by most Sri Lankan politicians. Among them were Ponnambalam Ramanathan, James Pieris, E. W. Perera, D. B. Jayatilaka, D. S. Senanayake and S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike. Only two minor politicians, one of whom was the Labour Party leader, A. E. Goonesinha, spoke in its favour.

The other major change of the Donoughmore Constitution was the amalgamation of legislative and executive functions by the creation of a State Council. Through the State Council ministers were appointed to take charge of the executive departments of the government. However, unlike in the cabinet system in Britain, these ministers were not chosen from the ruling party. In fact, though candidates described themselves as members of parties (Congress, Liberal or Labour), they stood as individuals.

Instead of forming into party blocs, members of the State Council divided themselves into seven committees, with responsibility for specific areas of government.

Types of Law

As we have noted previously, one of the most important functions of government is ensuring the security of its people. When we think of security, it is defence that first springs to mind—the work of the security forces in dealing with external threats. But what is more important in the day-to-day lives of ordinary people is internal security, that is, ensuring that law and order is maintained.

Concerns in this respect can be seen in the commandments issued by religions, even before codes of law were developed. All religions, for instance, forbid murder and robbery. Even though such actions are perpetrated by some individuals against others, it is recognised that they have a bearing on society as a whole. Such actions are termed criminal acts, and dealing with them is seen in most societies as the direct responsibility of the government. Unless stern public action is taken in such cases, the security of the entire society is threatened.

When a case is brought under Criminal law then, it is the government that prepares the case and prosecutes the accused. Since these are serious issues, and punishment is severe, the guilt of the accused should be clearly established. It is necessary, therefore, that the prosecution proves its case beyond reasonable doubt in such cases to avoid punishment of the innocent. Otherwise, the accused is acquitted.

Other offences, though defined and dealt with by the law, are seen as affecting individuals alone. So cases such as disputes about land or contracts, or those involving personal relations such as divorce, come under what is termed Civil law.

The Official Languages Act

In 1956 S. W. R. D. Bandaranaike became Prime Minister in a coalition of nationalist forces dominated by the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP). He had established the party after leaving the United National party (UNP). During the election campaign he had presented himself as a champion of the common man against the elite who had dominated Sri Lankan politics. But due to the pressures of political competition his victory was seen as the triumph of Sinhala nationalism.

Bandaranaike's first measure was to introduce the Official Languages Act that made Sinhala the official language of the country. Earlier both he and J. R. Jayewardene, who was virtually the leader of the UNP after its defeat and Kotelawala's early retirement to Britain, had advanced the claims of Sinhala as opposed to English (with, therefore, no wish to denigrate Tamil). By 1956, however, parity of status between Sinhala and Tamil was abandoned by both parties in their pursuit of votes.

The Official Languages Act was challenged under the provisions of Article 29 of the Soulbury Constitution, which forbade discrimination against any segment of the population. The clause was entrenched in the Constitution, that is, it could not be changed without a two-third majority in parliament, which Soulbury had believed no party would ever achieve. The Act was passed with a simple majority. As the Sri Lankan courts were against some of its provisions, the government appealed to the Privy Council in Britain. Under the Soulbury Dominion Constitution, the Privy Council had the final say. Unfortunately, the Privy Council, which followed the British tradition of subscribing to the supremacy of parliament, upheld the legality of the Act.

The Origins of Democracy

The word ‘Democracy’ comes from two Greek words, ‘demos’ and ‘kratos’, which mean ‘people’ and ‘power’. Thus, by democracy is meant a political system in which power belongs to the people. This is now generally accepted as the best system of government, inasmuch as it is the people who constitute the state, and, therefore, the government of a state should be in the hands of its people. However, numerous disagreements arise when we try to work out the best mechanisms through which people can exercise their power of government.

Clearly, all the people cannot rule together. In a democracy, at any given period of time some of the people have to rule on behalf of the rest. But choosing some people as representatives of all the others has its problems.

Athens was the first state to have adopted the democratic system of government. They found that when there were elections the wealthy were chosen as leaders. They, therefore, instituted a system in which the representatives were chosen each year by drawing lots from among all the citizens. This, they felt, led to a more truly representative government rather than the system of elections which gave advantages to the more influential members of society.

Athens functioned effectively for several years in the fifth century BC under this system. But a terrible defeat in 404 BC in the thirty-year war against Pericles, the Spartans made the way for its leader of the downfall. Some of its citizens felt that Athenian democracy the defeat was due to the existing system of government.

Early History

Sri Lanka, as most countries of the world, had an autocratic form of government for most of its history. Kings (or sometimes queens) ruled Sri Lanka from well before the Christian era. A change of government meant a change of monarch, often through violence or invasions. Sometimes the country was divided into several small kingdoms, with different kings who were independent of each other. More often, it was unified with one king dominating other rulers who were known in different periods as Sub-kings or Governors.

These kings were given advice and assistance by councils with various responsibilities at the centre. There were also systems of local government, with councils of elders in villages, or other kinds of councils to advise governors of regions. However, all such councils existed at the will of the king, as did the courts. They and the governors were chosen or appointed by the sole authority of the king. Though good rulers took into account the wishes of their people, the idea that the people had a right to choose their rulers never held sway. The only matter on which the will of the king was not absolute was succession or appointment of sub-kings, where heredity was crucial. In short, democracy was unheard of as a principle. The Divine Rights Theory of Monarchy based on heredity or conquest held sway in Sri Lanka, as it did in most of the world, for most of its history.

So when the Europeans arrived in Sri Lanka in 1505 and began to take control of the country, they simply continued the monarchial system of government.

The Circle of Reason

The Story

When he is eight, “Alu” comes to sleepy Lalpukur from Calcutta to live with his uncle Balaram and aunt Toru-debi. He had been given his nickname by his phrenologist uncle, since his large head looked something like a potato and portended an interesting future – at least, so his uncle thought. His parents had recently died in a car accident. Even though Balaram and his brother had been long-estranged, Balaram and Toru-debi decide to take in Alu and raise him, since they had no children of their own. Alu soon displays an amazing ability to pick up various languages. Yet, in one of the many paradoxes that run through the novel, he rarely speaks at all. When at fourteen the boy stops attending school, Balaram, the supposed scientist, surprises everyone by encouraging the boy to take up weaving. Alu begins by taking lessons from Shombhu-Debnath, a master weaver. Alu seems a gifted child, just as Balaram had predicted: not only is he good at languages (that he doesn't use), but now he also surpasses his teacher in weaving.

The Circle of Reason

• Considering the book's title, how might reason be seen as a central topic in the book? What are its strengths and appeal in today's world, and its limitations as portrayed in the novel? Circularity also plays a large thematic role, contrasted to Bhudeb Roy's strict linear logic. Which appears to be more powerful? More helpful?

• How is chance a factor in the plot? Does it have “significance,” or is it merely serendipity?

• How does traditional Indian literature play a part in the book? How does Ghosh use connotations from this earlier writing to enhance his themes?

• Demonstrate the use of magic realism in the book. How helpful would you say these devices are in support of Ghosh's themes? How would you compare them to Salman Rushdie's writing, or to any of the Central and South American writers like Gabriel Garcia Marquez who frequently use similar techniques?

• Is Jyoti Das a necessary character?

• How would you characterise the portrayal of women in this book?

• Discuss the clash of traditional and modern value systems in the book.

• Does the direction of the flight/quest – westward – have any implications for the theme of this book? What is being sought by the various characters? How successful is each in this quest?

• Is the book hopeful? Humanistic?

• Does the book show evidence of being a first novel?

In An Antique Land

The Story

Ghosh begins his account in Lataifa, the little Egyptian village where he stationed himself as an Oxford University graduate student in anthropology. Doctor Aly Issa; a professor at the University of Alexandria, has brought Ghosh to the home of Abu-'Ali, and it is there that he rents a room during his stay in Egypt. Ghosh does not especially relish living there, since Abu-'Ali, in his mid-fifties, is a somewhat overbearing small-businessman. In fact, Ghosh describes him as “profoundly unlovable” (23), but recognises him as someone who prompts a rather fearful respect from the villagers. After a while, Dr. Issa arranges for Ghosh to move out of Lataifa to Nashawy, a larger town.

Another of the major players in the village is Shaikh Musa, also in his mid-fifties, who runs a government-subsidised shop for retailing essential commodities at controlled prices. Ahmed and Jabir are his sons; Sakkina, their age, is Shaikh Musa's second wife (as Ghosh awkwardly discovers). She is the daughter of Ustaz (“teacher”) Mustapha; and is Abu-'Ali's great grand-niece. The names begin to proliferate; and the reader begins to experience the disorientation that must have been Ghosh's, as well. As things develop, Mustapha – and a good many other people – seems to be interested in converting Ghosh to Islam.

If the first quote reminds us of the joy Amitav Ghosh takes in telling his interlocking stories; the second striking quote underscores the sense of vocation that he brings to the task. We must note, first of all, that writing is a career he chose after, or in the course of, an academic career as a trained anthropologist with a doctorate from a good school. If his novels and essays show strong evidence of that anthropological training – in their careful observation of their characters, surroundings, and history; their implied comparative sweep of cultures and eras; their implied philosophical investigation of what it means to be a human being – they just as strongly show the novelist's delight in narrative, in character development, in themes and symbols and the other stylistic devices that might seem extraneous to strict academic investigation. In short, Ghosh ties his wagon to imagination, and especially to stories. The second quote, though, forcefully suggests that he retains the anthropologist's dedication to “remembering” stories that otherwise slip from consciousness and from recorded history.

Dancing in Cambodia, At Large in Burma (1998), Countdown (1999); Ghosh's afterword to Chan Chao's book of photography, Burma: Something Went Wrong (2000), and The Imam and the Indian: Prose Pieces (2002)

This chapter considers Amitav Ghosh's non-fictional writing. Viewed together, the collected essays demonstrate his chief concerns:

• The nuclearisation of the subcontinent (Countdown; The Ghat of the Only World)

• The current political crisis in Burma and Cambodia (Dancing in Cambodia, At Large in Burma; The Global Reservation; Burma: Something Went Wrong)

• The maintenance of cultural heritage (Dancing in Cambodia; The Hunger of Stones; The Human Comedy in Cairo)

• Pre-European commerce between India and Africa (The Slave of MS. H.6)

• Fundamentalism (The Imam and the Indian; An Egyptian in Baghdad; The Fundamentalist Challenge)

• Anthropology and Economics in local communities (Categories of Labour and the Orientation of the Fellah Economy; The Relations of Envy in an Egyptian Village)

• The Diaspora (The Imam and the Indian; Tibetan Dinner; The Diaspora in Indian Culture) The March of the Novel Through History)

Viewed with a less narrow focus, many of these pieces share in common the author's abiding concern for the impact of broad historical movements on individuals caught up in events beyond their control, the importance of connections between the past and the present, and the desirability of finding avenues for communication that obviate nationalistic manias.

It is unusual for a novelist to produce as rich a body of essays as Amitav Ghosh has.

Amitav Ghosh's novels brim with interesting themes set against fascinating historical backdrops. These two quotes are a good place to begin our discussion of Amitav Ghosh, however, because they place a salutary emphasis on the third of the equation that might otherwise be shortchanged: the stories. Ghosh's roots are in journalism and academic writing – investigation and analysis, a revelation of subterranean connections and patterns – but first and foremost, and overriding all the many ideas that inform his work are the stories, the Dickensian proliferation of characters whose lives engage us and who take us to some richly imagined places and times.

First, though, a consideration of the writer's personal history, his own “places” and “times”. Amitav Ghosh was born in Calcutta on 11 July 1956. His father was first a Lieutenant Colonel in the army and, later, a diplomat. Ghosh grew up in East Pakistan, in Sri Lanka, Iran and India. He attended the Doon School in Dehra Dun, and then received a BA (with honours) in History from St. Stephen's College, Delhi University in 1976 and an MA in Sociology from the University in 1978.