by Rajiva Wijesinha

Annan-ge cycle-e bell illai, brake illai
Mudguard illai, illai...
Annan illai, cycle illai...
Mudguard illai, illai
(Girl Guide Campfire Song)

My comments on corruption in the public sector last week met with some scepticism. The petty peculation in the Ministry of Education came as no surprise, but the millions laundered at the university seemed incredible to some. I had assumed this was because we academics are considered honourable unworldy people, but the reason was less flattering. It was thought that today’s academics were just too dumb to rise to the excessive levels of dishonesty I described.

And there was another criticism of the article, namely that instead of being serious about corruption, which should be left to the experts, I should rather be funny about politics. Happily, having delved deeper into the matter, I can now satisfy all critics. One possible explanation for the ease with which millions were spirited away has to do with politics.

I suspect one reason Sabaragamuwa University was safe from criticism and investigation in the late nineties was the tremendous patronage it received from Uncle Anuruddha, the scourge of the Muslim Congress (though he was supposed to be fighting the Tigers, lucky souls). In 1998 indeed, as part of his devotion to sustainable development, he approved the donation of ten million rupees to the university (from CEB funds, not his own I hasten to add) to set up a Centre for Environmental Studies. I assume that the decision to donate went through the appropriate channels, but even that perhaps means nothing, since no one would have dared to question the largesse of our hero.

After that the General seems (for his sake, let us hope so) to have forgotten his donation and the environment. For the next two years the ten million was used to give loans to the university, when — it was later claimed — it was short of funds to meet electricity bills (nice touch, that) or pay Mahapola Scholarships. The Bursar at one point objected to the establishment of a separate account which was not under him (it had been specifically entrusted to an Assistant Bursar, who clearly had the required expertise). The Bursar was promptly reprimanded for his negligence, on the grounds that he should have known what was happening, and his services were terminated a month later. It was claimed that the loans were on his advice, but it was only after his dismissal that the fun really started.

Most of the loans were to the university’s capital account. (I recall my father years ago saying that all MPs wanted to be Ministers, and all Ministers wanted to be in charge of construction, whereupon the poor man was hauled up for contempt of parliament — someone obviously understood what he meant, and thought the cap fitted). In April and May 2000 two sums of one and a half million each were paid into the recurrent account, but in between five and a half million was ‘returned’ from the recurrent account, and nearly half of this was promptly transferred into the capital account. Perhaps poor Mr. Choksy, trying to balance our budget, could do with experts able to multiply assets so simply. To move money granted for recurrent expenditure into the capital account — and all our buildings in those days were on labour contracts, which are much more difficult to monitor — was certainly a stroke of genius.

It was clearly too clever for the Presidential Investigation Unit, which was supposed to look into this and various other matters. I have no idea whether Bala barked or not, b ut the Unit is supposed to have given the account a clean bill of health. The General’s ten million, and a little bit more, has vanished, and we shall not see its like again.

For those of you who are not trilingual, and did not have the advantage of attending girl guide campfires, the song I quote from above is about Annan’s bicycle which had no bell, no brakes and no mudguard. As the song progresses, more and more falls away, until finally there is no Annan and no bicycle. Sadly, that song has come to my mind more and more in the last couple of years, as the country was stripped of much that it used to have in happier days.

But I am old fashioned and I suppose I should get used to the fact that this is the way the world goes. Money has vanished, and nobody cares. Investigations come to nothing. Two bright youngsters from the Audit Department told me last week that they had complained over the years but nothing was done. Swarnavahini, I was told, had exposed some of the dishonesty, and the UGC appointed a Commission of Inquiry, but someone seems not to have liked its findings so the report was suppressed. The new Council of the University has asked for a copy of this, but it has not as yet been received.

Is it any wonder that students go on strike all the time, and so deeply distrust the authorities? Unfortunately they don’t realize that one of the principal reasons for so much dishonesty on the part of some, and lethargy on the part of others, is the very statism they are so determined to maintain. Certainly the last government didn’t help when it allowed the impression to arise that privatization meant the end of free education. Perhaps the Ministers concerned, given their communist and populist views, actually believed this. Perhaps, more cynically, they thought the policies Prof. Gunawardena and Tara de Mel were pushing (two of the best secretaries the last government had) would lead to a decline in their own ministerial influence. Whatever the reason, they managed to sabotage policies Chandrika had actually agreed to in one of her more lucid moments.

The UNP unfortunately was also playing politics at the time, and flirting with the JVP, so it did its bit too to kill that particular reform. Now to give the JVP their due, their version of statism will probably mean dealing with the sort of crookedness I have described by shooting rather than barking. But, apart from the excesses of such idealism, they too will change in time, and some of them too will get corrupt as they get old and grey (if it has not begun to happen already). And then camaraderie, as well as lethargy, will ensure that nothing is done.

Will the UNP have the courage to cut the Gordian Knot? I doubt it. A dispensation unable to appoint a Cabinet Minister of Education for over two months is not likely to take the tough decisions needed. The gravy train view of politics, that canonizes the concept of jobs for the boys, is unlikely to make policy changes that will reduce the power and patronage of politicians. And so the party will go on, until nothing, but nothing, is left.