Columns

Last week, sixty-nine academics issued what they described as a Statement of Concern and Solidarity following reports that Professor Maithree Wickramasinghe had been summoned before the Financial Crimes Investigation Division (FCID) of the Criminal Investigation Department. The summons, it is reported, is linked to an ongoing case against her husband, former President Ranil Wickremesinghe, concerning the alleged use of public funds to attend a ceremony at the University of Wolverhampton, where Professor Wickremesinghe was awarded an honorary professorship. 

The academics’ statement was measured, sober and principled. They catalogued Professor Wickremesinghe’s academic achievements and reminded the country that these should be markers of national pride, not occasions for disregard or derision. They described her as an independent scholar of recognised integrity and distinction.

Crucially, they did not call for immunity from scrutiny. Rather, they insisted that any investigative process relating to public accountability must be conducted fairly, transparently and in strict adherence to due process.

Their concern lay elsewhere. It is deeply troubling, they noted, when a scholar of her standing appears to be drawn into proceedings that are fundamentally political in nature and centred on allegations concerning another individual who is her husband.

They urged the authorities to ensure that investigative actions do not result in unwarranted harassment, intimidation or reputational harm to independent academics. Academic freedom, institutional autonomy and the protection of scholars from political victimisation, they reminded us, are essential pillars of a democratic society.

It is significant that many of the signatories would not have known Professor Wickramasinghe personally. Their intervention was not born of social familiarity or political allegiance. It was an act of civic responsibility — an effort to pre-empt any untoward development, particularly in light of some of the disturbing episodes that have followed high-profile summonses in recent times. They acted not because of who she is married to, but because of who she is: an academic whose professional independence and dignity deserve protection.

Throughout her years as the First Lady, Professor Wickramasinghe remained largely in the background, conducting herself with grace and restraint. In this respect, she was reminiscent of Elina Jayewardene, the spouse of former President J. R. Jayewardene, who likewise maintained a dignified distance from overt political theatre. There was no attempt to wield informal power, no ostentatious display of influence. That such a figure now finds herself drawn into a political storm has understandably troubled many within the academic community.

Yet, while independent individuals drawn from diverse non-governmental fields have chosen to speak up on behalf of Professor Wickramasinghe, there has been a strange — and rather loud — silence from another quarter.

The corporate leaders and business chambers stood shoulder to shoulder with Ranil Wickremesinghe during his years in office but are now missing in action? The titans of industry who wined and dined with him, applauded his pro-business reforms and publicly aligned themselves with his economic philosophy while he held office maintain a loud silence in his difficult times.

For decades, Ranil Wickremesinghe was lampooned by his political opponents as the champion of the corporate class. His advocacy of liberalisation, fiscal consolidation and private-sector-led growth was presented — often derisively — as governance by and for Colombo’s business elite.

If the corporate sector was content to claim the benefits of pro-business policies under Wickremesinghe, can it now disclaim any moral responsibility when he faces what many perceive as politically motivated treatment? If he was their ideological standard-bearer in the realm of economic reform, is he now to be left to fend for himself in the political wilderness?

Unless, of course, the corporates and business chambers genuinely believe that no injustice is being done to him.

In his quieter moments, Ranil Wickremesinghe must surely reflect on the stinging wit of Sir John Kotelawala after his electoral defeat of 1956, when many of the latter’s supporters were said to have shifted allegiance to S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike. Sir John famously remarked that while the leaders changed, the “lickers” remained the same. Sir John was making the pointed but pertinent observation about the fluid loyalties of political and other fellow travellers.

Ranil Wickremesinghe seems currently to be experiencing the modern version of this betrayal.

Will Wickremesinghe be tempted to echo that sentiment, albeit in more measured language? Will he find himself asking, in Shakespearean cadence, “Et tu, corporates?”

Beyond personalities and political rivalries, however, lies a larger principle.

Justice cannot be a transactional commodity, dispensed only when convenient and withheld when costly. It cannot be reserved for allies and denied to adversaries.

If academics, many of whom have little to gain and much to risk, can raise their voices in defence of due process for a colleague, why should captains of industry — armed with resources, influence and platforms — find it so difficult to articulate a principled position?

Fighting for justice is rarely comfortable. It may entail displeasing those in power. It may carry reputational or commercial risks. But a society in which every sector calculates only its immediate advantage is one in which injustice can flourish unchecked.

Today it may be a former president or his spouse. Tomorrow it may be a business leader, a civil servant or an ordinary citizen. The true test of commitment to justice is whether one defends it even when the beneficiary is controversial, unpopular or politically inconvenient.

The silence of the corporate elite and the business chambers is not a neutral act; it is a calculated surrender. It reveals a disturbing truth about the Sri Lankan corporate soul: it is a soul that values the pursuit of profit far above the pursuit of justice.

These leaders, who frequently lecture the public on “good governance” and “ethics” at glitzy award ceremonies, have shown that their commitment to these values ends where their risk begins. They are terrified of antagonising the current administration, fearing that a single word in defence of fair play might result in a lost contract or a regulatory hurdle.

 (javidyusuf@gmail.com)