WHO today constitutes the parliamentary opposition in Sri Lanka? This question is puzzling everybody because there is a bizarre situation following the recent presidential election in which the newly elected president, Maithri Sirisena, heads the SLFP, the erstwhile ruling party, while the new prime minister, Ranil Wickremsinghe, runs the UNP which was in the opposition. Now both parties are sitting on treasury benches, together with smaller parties like the JVP and the JHU.

Thus, for all intents and purposes, there is no opposition in the Sri Lankan parliament. One reason is that any member can switch sides at will, and over the years this has led to a lota culture we no longer have in Pakistan following a constitutional amendment. Under the Sri Lankan system, MPs could be (and were) bribed by offers of cabinet positions to cross over. Indeed, Mr Sirisena was secretary general of the SLFP and health minister under Mahinda Rajapakse, the powerful president who recently suffered a shock defeat.

Despite (or perhaps because of) his decade in power, Mr Rajapakse is now friendless with ex-allies and sycophants queuing up to give evidence against members of his government and family. One, Mervyn Silva, typifies the thuggish culture that had built up in the ruling party, and has now laid a charge of murder against Gotabaya Rajapakse, the ex-president’s brother.

This particular case relates to the 2009 murder of Lasantha Wickrematunge, editor of The Sunday Leader, a bold, investigative weekly that exposed several cases of corruption in the Rajapakse government. Before his death, he had written a powerful editorial that was published posthumously. In this article, the editor accused the government of his murder. It had long been rumoured that Gotabaya, the powerful defence secretary, had run a hit squad drawn from military intelligence that travelled in unmarked white vans. These men had kidnapped a number of journalists, killing several and beating up others. But Wickrematunge was the highest profile victim, specially since he was once a friend of the president’s.

But perhaps even more serious are allegations levelled by the foreign minister and others about an attempted coup in the hours after polling halted on Jan 8. In the immediate aftermath of the election, many observers had been surprised and impressed by the speed and grace with which Mahinda Rajapakse had conceded defeat, even though the margin of defeat had been rather slim.

However, according to subsequent reports, things were much murkier behind the walls of Temple Trees, the president’s official Colombo residence. Apparently, the ruling family, earlier confident of victory, grew alarmed when the early results of postal ballots were announced. These were votes cast by soldiers and civil servants who could not go to their voting districts because they were on duty. It had been widely assumed that the majority would vote for the ruling family, or these votes could be more easily massaged. But in the event, Rajapakse lost in this early round, alerting the ruling family to the real possibility of defeat.

According to reports, the inspector general of police and the army chief were summoned to Temple Trees, and the possibility of calling in the troops to prevent possible post-election violence against the ruling party discussed. Both officers wanted legal opinion, so the attorney general was also invited. Alarmed at the direction of the conversation, he telephoned the solicitor general to ask her opinion, as well as to alert her to what was being discussed. Both informed the president that the constitution did not permit the abortion of the election. By this time, the election commissioner had been apprised, and he warned both police and army not to interfere. Wickremsinghe, then still leader of the opposition, had also found out about the meeting, and appeared at Temple Trees.

A dejected Rajapakse, seeing the game was up, conceded defeat once the vote in the Tamil and Muslim areas had gone decisively against him, and drove off, probably never to return to Temple Trees, except as a guest. The next day, following the announcement of the final tally, hordes of SLFP members crossed over to the government, no doubt hoping to be pardoned for the many acts of corruption many have been allegedly guilty of.

The Rajapakse family home is situated in Tangalle, and over the years, the coastal town was in lockdown when the president visited. Giant posters of a smiling, confident Rajapakse festooned the streets, and his son, Namal, had been elected to parliament from Tangalle, and was being groomed for the succession. His local sidekicks had allegedly been involved in property grabs, and one of them, the president of the local council, was finally convicted for the murder of a UK citizen after much pressure from the British government.

So it was rather amusing to read a report that Namal had complained of being accused of wrongdoing when he only served the country. Recently, the police raided the family home looking for a high-performance Lamborghini sports car the president’s son had imported. In fact, there was much sniggering when the annual budget two years ago permitted the duty-free import of sports cars.

While the hunt for evidence of corruption and political skulduggery goes on, Sri Lanka is changing diplomatic direction. Under Rajapakse, China had become the country’s main benefactor, giving billions in loans for mostly uneconomic infrastructure projects in Rajapakse’s home constituency in the South. Relations with its giant neighbour, India, had deteriorated to the point that two Chinese submarines had recently called at Colombo harbour without Sri Lanka informing India as per an agreement between the two countries.

So a report that RAW, India’s intelligence service, had been a key player in forming the successful anti-Rajapakse coalition, cannot be dismissed out of hand as a conspiracy theory.

Published in Dawn, January 26th, 2015

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