(Excerpted from Rendering Unto Caesar, autobiography of Bradman Weerakoon)

(Continued from last week)

The prime minister’s father too had been named John Kotelawela and there was always a whiff of mystery surrounding `John Sr’. There had then been rumours of high intrigue, of family feuds, contract killings and near unassailable alibis. The kavi kola karayas – the wandering minstrels who preceded the radio as purveyors of news in my childhood had sung the story in racy jingles, doubtless embellishing it as time went on. But what was spoken about in whispers was that John Sr had died in prison while awaiting trial after arrest in a foreign land for killing a brother-in-law.

But this could well be the embellishment of an overladen imagination. I would not personally subscribe to its veracity and mention it only to show how the whisper mills grind away in this country. So the son, John Lionel Kotelawela had grown up very much in the care of his dynamic mother Alice. She continued to be a strong influence throughout his life and frequently intervened to help him out of the many sticky situations his reckless tongue got him into.

Alice Kotelawela was one of the three Attygalle sisters of Madapatha who made an important impact on the political history of colonial Ceylon through their dynastic marriages. The eldest, Alice, as we have noted, married John Kotelawela Senior. Leena, the second sister married T F Jayewardene, an uncle of J R Jayewardene, the future president. The youngest, Ellen, married F R Senanayake, the elder brother of D S Senanayake, the first prime minister of independent Ceylon. The Attygalle sisters have been likened to the three Soong sisters of pre-revolutionary China who achieved fame through their marriages to leading political figures.

The Attygalle family network was indeed an impressive one. F R Senanayake’s younger brother D S and D S Senanayake’s son Dudley, were the first and second prime ministers of the country while John Kotelawala’s son Lionel (our Sir John) became the third. These family networks and the way the highest posts rotated among kinsmen led to the UNP being referred to as the ‘Uncle Nephew Party’, a sobriquet not unwarranted by the facts. Political analysts observing this trend being repeated later on in the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), and by contagion in the neighbouring countries as well, were to refer to the phenomenon rather grandly, I think, as dynastic democracy, a typically South Asian variant.

Sir John’s entrance to the office of prime minister on October 12, 1953 was according to him delayed and long over-due. As he perceived it, he should by right and by seniority in the Party, have been appointed by the Governor -General Lord Soulbury to fill the vacancy caused by the death of D S on March 22, 1952. t was a climactic moment in the life of the new nation as D S, like other new leaders who had managed the transition from colony to free state, had been like a father figure.

Sir John Kotelawela

The question before the leading politicians of the government as D S lay dying – and also the choice being theirs, was, “Who will now be prime minister?” S W R D Bandaranaike, a likely successor, had put himself outside contention by his resignation from the government and the UNP on July 12. 1951, a full eight months before D S’ death. What would have been the country’s future had he continued in the UNP of which he had been a founding member in 1946, and been chosen to succeed? This was to become an often-asked question but I always thought it was irrelevant considering the profound differences in policy and direction between himself and D S.

On crossing the floor’ in a memorable speech he had expressed his frustration at not being able to make the regime implement the progressive reform agenda he had submitted. There was no doubt that after much reflection he had left the government to form his own Party since he was convinced that forces within the UNP would never allow him to succeed D S. With S W R D Bandaranaike out of the way the leading contender was Sir John. He had held ministerial rank since 1936, was now deputy leader, held the portfolio of minister of transport and works and was leader of the house. The other possible candidates were Dudley, D S’s son, and J R Jayewardene who was also a distant relative of the Senanayake’s.

Dudley had been in the Cabinet for less than five years and held the important portfolio of Agriculture and Lands. But he was much younger, relatively inexperienced and had shown no great enthusiasm for the rough and tumble of politics. J R Jayewardene was minister of finance and had earned a reputation as a political strategist but his stand on the language issue – official status for Sinhala – and his penchant for the national dress did not commend him to the old guard of the UNP for the leadership position.

It looked obvious to Sir John and his followers that he would be next in line. But it was not to be. Apparently the late prime minister, since he was in poor health, had advised Lord Soulbury that if anything untoward happened to him he should ask Dudley to form a government. Soulbury was out of the country at the time but had flown back on March 26 and with the minimum of consultation invited Dudley to do so. Dudley was then 41 years old and thus became the youngest prime minister in the Commonwealth.

Lord Soulbury whose appointment to office had been recommended by D S had paid off his debt, but as far as Sir John was concerned he had gained a mortal foe. Indeed Sir John had written a curt letter6 to Soulbury about the breach of British parliamentary convention to which the governor-general had not deigned to respond. It was soon also apparent that a majority of members of the parliamentary group had favoured Dudley over Sir John, who with his characteristic impulsiveness was more than likely to get them all into trouble.

After some days of sulking and denunciation of all the ‘plotters’ from his home at Kandawala Sir John had been persuaded to serve in Dudley’s cabinet, taking up his old portfolio which had been kept vacant. S W R D Bandaranaike watching these goings on from the sidelines was to describe this in his usual pithy terminology as “the culmination of a long, shabby and discreditable intrigue”.’

However, Sir John’s fury at being, as he perceived it, ‘double crossed’ was not to be pacified by ministerial office alone. He had to get it off his chest and he did so in his usual scathing style in a document widely circulated without any authorship, which gave a blow by blow account of how the deed was done. This was the famous The Premier Stakes . As usual his wayward tongue landed him in a heap of trouble. He was in the US on his way to Canada on an official visit when the story broke. Let me record the sequence of the events in his own words. The extract is from his An Asian Prime Minister’s Story.

‘Premier Dudley was prevailed upon to send me this message by cable: “The publication of the The Premier Stakes in 1952 has created a situation which makes it impossible for me to retain you as a member of my Cabinet. I shall, therefore, be glad if you will hand in your resignation by top secret telegram through our Embassy in Washington.”

‘The message was delivered to me with the utmost formality by an official of the Embassy who was very correctly dressed for the occasion, in tails and black tie. His instructions were that I should read it myself. When I had digested the contents of the cabled message which had been sent in code I asked him whether he would send a reply in plain English signed Kotelawala. He said that he certainly would. The reply I dictated made our uneasy diplomat shrink from its emphatic and rudely specific terms. The prime minister was to be asked to thrust the message he sent me into the place where I thought it belonged. Needless to say no reply was sent to Ceylon in these terms through the prescribed channels.’

However, Sir John was advised by many friends to go back to Ceylon and make up with Dudley. Then followed one of those diplomatic denials sometimes euphemistically described as being ‘economical with the truth’ which I was to encounter again and again in my career with top people. It was agreed, as Sir John later wrote, that everything should be forgiven and forgotten. In writing he solemnly asserted that he had nothing to do with the publication of the The Premier Stakes and denied the truth of the statements attributed to him in the document. Dudley accepted the explanation and all was well that ended well.

Blood in the country’s politics has always been thicker than water. Sir John’s mother Alice and Sir Oliver Goonetilleke, who was also an expert at patching up other peoples’ quarrels, then a cabinet minister and later the next governor-general recommended by Sir John, were said to be the prime actors in this charade.

Overlooked in 1952 for the premiership and now more than ever before the heir-apparent, Sir John did not have to wait too long for the prize he was seeking. Dudley as everyone expected called for an early election influenced by two main considerations. One obviously was to take advantage of the considerable sympathy vote following the death of his father. The other was to pre-empt the rising influence of S W R D Bandaranaike, who after the inauguration of the SLFP in September 1951 was seen to be making strong inroads into the traditional rural vote base of the UNP with a highly populist agenda.

But Dudley’s spell of office, after comfortably winning the elections of 1952, was short. Plagued by ill-health and indecisiveness, Dudley resigned on the October 12, 1953, following the widespread hartal (general strike) in August brought about by the government’s abrupt reduction of the subsidized rice ration. Finally Sir John’s perseverance and tenacity had paid off His reputation for being strong-minded and resolute made him the man of the hour within the Party and there was virtually no opposition to his taking over as prime minister.

Mara Maha Yuddaya cartoon

There were many urgent things to be done; the pre-eminent need being that of getting the strikers off the streets and back to work. There was also the official visit of the Queen which was pending and which Sir John was determined would be an unqualified success.

Sir John, as usual when he undertook a project, took a very personal interest in planning the Queen’s visit. In addition to the customary address to Parliament by the monarch – she was still the nominal head of the government and appointed the governor-general – there was a grand reception at Temple Trees and a special train assembled to take her to Kandy and then on to Polonnaruwa and Anuradhapura, the popular ‘ruined city’ tour.

The massive file on Her Majesty’s visit, which I saw soon after I entered the prime minister’s office, attested to the care and attention which the Railway had paid to the decor of the toilets attached to the Royal carriage and the refurbishment of the master bedroom at the picturesque Polonnaruwa Rest-house on the banks of Parakrama Samudraya tank where the Queen spent one night. For years afterwards locals were wont to make a special effort when staying at Polonnaruwa to ask for the Queen’s bedroom and relate with some awe the experience of having slept in the Queen’s bed.

The visit to Sigiriya was a highlight of the journey. It was breezy at the Lion’s Paw and the young queen had quite a time keeping in place the light cotton dress she had chosen for the hot morning climb. As a sudden gust of wind caused a momentary lifting of the Queen’s dress the irrepressible Sir John shouted “ganing yakko ganing’ to his official photographer Rienzie Wijeratne. The shot was not among the carefully selected album of photographs ceremonially presented to the Royal guest on departure.

A few months after I entered the prime minister’s office, the coming general elections in April of 1956 began to dominate all our work. In February of that decisive year, and more than 14 months earlier than was statutorily necessary, Sir John had advised the governor-general, Sir Oliver Goonetilleke, to dissolve the Parliament. The reason for this was not immediately clear to us.

Ceylon was to celebrate the long awaited 2,500th anniversary of the birth of Gautama Buddha at the full moon (Vesak Poya) in the month of May of 1956. This had been termed Buddha Jayanthi –an event of the highest importance to Buddhists not only in the country but all over the world. Preparations were in hand for the historic occasion and an array of leaders of countries where Buddhism was being practised, including King Mahendra of Nepal were to visit the island on and around the event.

Moreover, Ceylon along with some other countries which had been knocking on the door, had been admitted into the United Nations in December 1955 in a package deal and this was deemed a major diplomatic coup. Past efforts had proved fruitless on account of a continuing Soviet veto. It had been alleged that Ceylon with British bases at Trincomalee and Katunayake was not yet an independent nation. However, these seemingly positive factors notwithstanding, the decision had been taken to go for an early election.

We surmised later that the reason may have been to pre-empt the growing popularity of S W R D Bandaranaike and the formidable coalition, the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna (“MEP”) that he had succeeded in mobilizing. There was also the extraordinary rumour that Dudley Senanayake who had apparently resigned from politics completely, was now thinking of forming a ‘third force’ to contest both Sir John and Bandaranaike, taking away from the UNP some of his former loyalists.

So it was that dissolution of Parliament was fixed for February 18 and after due consultations with the then court astrologer, three days in April just before the Sinhalese and Tamil New Year, auspicious to Sir John – the 5th, 7th and 10th were chosen for the general elections. At the time the practice was to conduct the voting over a few days on the ostensible grounds that elections staffing and security considerations – police at polling booths – would not allow for island-wide elections on a single day.

The real reason, however, was different. Staggered elections were expected to provide for the ‘swing’ to take effect. Government campaign managers usually put up all the strong candidates on the first day so that the voters on the subsequent days could be suitably impressed and influenced by how well the government was doing and would vote accordingly. As it turned out, the results of the first day, April 5 belied all the expectations of Sir John and his advisers.

As caretaker prime minister, Sir John embarked on an elaborate and gruelling 18-hours -a- day programme of meetings and election rallies. The concept of `caretaker’ was taken seriously in those days and as far as possible major policy decisions with large financial implications were postponed. However, in a significant change of policy to counter the ‘Sinhala Only in 24 hours’ slogan of Mr Bandaranaike and his hastily assembled coalition, the UNP leadership too decided to fight the election on the language issue.

The UNP departed from its long held position of parity of status for Sinhala and Tamil as official languages and had adopted the proposal that “Sinhalese alone should be the state language of Ceylon and that immediate action be taken to implement the decision”. The effect of this was that seven Tamil MPs who were UNP members resigned in protest. However, the timing of the change of policy gave the show away and it was perceived by the mass of the electorate as an election stunt. Clearly a case of too little, too late.

Public cynicism had too been growing over the UNP’s alleged misuse of political power. There was a widespread belief that funds were being collected for the Party through the sale of Honours and citizenship rights. Sir John’s impatience with discussion and the image he strove to propagate as a man of action caused irritation.

I personally recalled his peremptory treatment of a body of monks without hearing them out, who had called over at Temple Trees to demand the postponement of the elections. Soon afterwards he threatened to tar-brush the monks who were duseela and took part in politics.

The thoughts of some of us in the prime minister’s office were now turning to the man who was leading the campaign on the other side. The media by and large were hoping for and predicting a UNP victory but there was a low rumble from below that all was not going well with the UNP campaign and that the MEP was gaining ground. Among those who thought so was an American professor of political science whose acquaintance I had made and who seemed confident that Mr Bandaranaike would do very well especially in the rural electorates.

But my feedback to Nadesan and the prime minister was discounted on the grounds that information coming in through police intelligence showed that the UNP was going to win. This total variation between what official intelligence was coming up with – perhaps mostly fulfillment – and the reality on the ground, was something I was to encounter over and over again as I worked with other administrators each time election day, verily the day of reckoning, drew near.

The final nail in Sir John’s coffin was a stunning poster devised by a Bhikku working for the Eksath Bhikku Peramuna (EBP) which was called the “mara yuddhaya.” It depicted Sir John on an elephant (the UNP symbol) at the head of a long parade of girl friends, ballroom dancers, Tamils and champagne drinkers, holding a spear pointed at the heart of a Buddha statue under the Bo tree. The symbolism was plain for all to see. To rescue the religion, the race and the country from the forces of evil, the devil had to be defeated.

Sir John’s supporters, who were quite sure of a UNP victory, had planned a celebratory champagne party for the evening of the last day of polling. Food and drink had been ordered from Victoria’s the official caterers and even the giant flamboyant trees in the beautiful back lawn of Temple Trees, the prime minister’s official residence, were being festooned, as on festive days with myriads of coloured electric bulbs. But as the first night wore on and more and more stalwarts of the UNP bit the dust, Sir John angrily called the ‘victory’ reception off.

Nadesan was quite certain Mr Bandaranaike would not want him to stay on. He had endeared himself to Sir John when the latter was minister of transport in D S Senanayake’s administration and Sir John had brought him in when he himself became prime minister in 1953.

Nadesan was a facile writer and it was reported, had ghost written the An Asian Prime Minister’s Story in addition to compiling an euphoric collection of essays on Sir John entitled ‘This Man Kotelawala’. But what would Mr Bandaranaike do with me? Would it be Siberia for having associated with the enemy? I was ready for anything but I had just got engaged to Damayanthi and our wedding had been planned for August that year.