The mess we’re in is as much our fault as it is their own.

The Sri Lankan political system is a mess. That much is clear to anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock for the past 75 years. The recent protests and turmoil only served to bring this to the forefront of our collective consciousness. And yet one problem remains. Despite all the pointing fingers and shifting of blame, no one is actually willing to discuss how we got into this mess, and even fewer are able to offer us a solution out of it.

Now, I am no economist and it’s far beyond my ability to give an educated opinion on how we may get out of this shithole that we’ve dug ourselves into. But what I must explore is the public mentality that led us here, because its clear that we as the public must bear a great deal of responsibility for bowing down to these political rogues, for handing them the keys to the nation’s coffers, and for collectively planting our lips firmly on their filthy, boil-infested backsides. But worry not, I’ll try to avoid the “Rajapaksa/Wickremesinghe = Bad” narrative because while that’s undoubtedly true, it has been written about by everybody and their grandmother, and you don’t need me to repeat it.

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It is an open secret that the vast majority of Sri Lankan politicians are actual criminals with allegations of everything from petty theft to murder. And make no mistake about it, almost every politician (and I say almost because there are a few politicians who maintain a thin veneer of respectability) was either a local thug themselves before election, or maintain thugs and henchmen on their payroll. It is also an open secret that they habitually flout the law, line their pockets through corruption and commissions, and give away government jobs to their supporters. While there are a few exceptions, this is true for most politicians irrespective of party lines. Even the circling vultures now attempting to capitalise on the protests, that is to say the JVP, are not without fault, as a quick glance through Sri Lankan history will tell you.

And so we come to the million dollar question:

Why the fuck do we persist in voting for them?

The answer is a complex one. For one, there are no better options. At every election we are given the choice of picking between the lesser of two evils, or not voting at all. And while it pains me to say this, not voting at all solves absolutely fuck-all. But of course this is assuming that there are no underhanded favours, positions, and government jobs used to buy their votes. And let’s be real here; there usually are. Then there’s also the unpleasant reality there are quite a few political vultures and their saffron robed associates who fan the flames of religious and ethnic tensions to collect more votes.

But perhaps worst of all is the absurd cult of personality that these people have built up. Up until quire recently, the Rajapaksa clan had a large and loyal following that literally worshipped the very ground they walked on. And the same goes for Wickremesinghe. Is it not the height of absurdity that we live in a nation where people actually worship politicians? And if you think that I’m exaggerating, I invite you to go and watch videos of politicians, particularly the Rajapaksas, making their pre-election rounds, and notice how people flocked to them, hands clasped and devotion in their eyes. Note how people kept pictures and posters of these knaves. It’s bad enough that we venerate the bastards, but its even more ridiculous to believe that they actually have your best interests at heart. And yet to a great many people, this was, and still, is their reality.

It is this ludicrous veneration that creates the corruption apologists and justifiers who are ever so often heard saying that the Rajapaksas should be more or less tolerated given that it is thanks to them that we ended our brutal civil war. Credit must be given where it is due, and I admit that they did end a brutal and bloody civil war thanks to which you and I live in relative peace; all of which sounds absolutely wonderful on paper until one realises the massive human rights violations that were perpetrated by the state in seeking this objective.

But even if we put this aside, it still does not justify corruption. They were elected to do a job and ending the war was part of that job. And now that the need for that job is over, they must step aside and let the country carry on with its progress instead of being bogged down by Chinese-funded vanity projects which only serve the purpose of providing further means of embezzling state money.

But all of us more or less understand the above thanks to the recent protests and we must now clear the floor for a new question:

What next?

Unfortunately, nobody really seems to know, myself included. A few of us will vote for the SLPP and the UNP as usual. More will attempt to whitewash the opposition and vote for them, painting them as the heroes of this period of turmoil(and not without reason, given that a few opposition MP’s such as Harsha de Silva have been consistently warning us of this crisis for a while now). And even more will perhaps turn to the opportunistic JVP. If I am to be honest, none of these seem to be particularly good options. For now there may be an “all party government” but even that is only temporary. Elections must come eventually. And what then?

Again, nobody seems to have a clue. But we do need to do something. We can’t just go back to the same old bullshit, only with less prominently corrupt politicians, and pretend that nothing happened. Shouldn’t we be discussing this too?

It’s easy to demand and protest for some vague notion of “change” and pat yourself on the back for being an activist or whatever-the-fuck you call yourself. But we need people to sit down and think about precisely what this would mean and how this is to be achieved.

And I do mean precisely.

What happens at the next election? Who do we vote for? How do we ensure that there are new and honest candidates? How do we ensure that these new candidates won’t go back to the same old system if they are elected? Precisely what sort of new system do we want? Do we just stick to a political overhaul, or do we use this impetus for change to address wider social issues too? And because we are undoubtedly going to have different ideas and opinions in answering these questions, how and on what issues do we compromise? Is it even necessary for the general public to be united in their demands?

That’s a lot of questions, I know. But they need to be asked, and more importantly, they need to be answered. And all of us need to find our own answers to these before a collective solution may ever be found.

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