1956, SWRD, Sir John, some ministers and drafting a Throne Speech on short order

(Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris)

In view of the dissolution of Parliament, I sat down to draft the Queen’s Speech. I drafted five different speeches, one for each person who might be a potential Prime Minister: Sir John, S.W.R.D., Philip Gunawardena, Dahanayake and N. M. Perera. The elections were spread over three days, and on the last day, April 12, 1956, was S.W.R.D.’s election at Attanagalla.

On the first day’s results, it was clear that there was a swing towards S.W.R.D.’s party, the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna. On the second day’s results, his position had considerably improved and it was clear to any thinking man that, if S.W.R.D. won his own seat on the 12th, he would automatically be Prime Minister.

The shortness of the time given for the drafting of the Queen’s Speech must have struck him as a constitutional lawyer because, on the 12th morning, while polling in his electoral area was going on, he asked me on the telephone to come to his bungalow to draft the Speech.

DS.’s and Dudley’s Secretary was N. W. Atukorale. When Sir John came in, Atukorale was elevated to Queen’s House and P. Nadesan took his place. Nadesan was an efficient officer and was known as Sir John’s man. He was able to write a speech for Sir John for the opening of a Commonwealth Conference or a Volley Ball court. If S.W.R.D. came in, everyone knew that Nadesan had to go; and he went.

Many, including my father, thought that I would have to go likewise although I saw no reason for taking a kick. When S.W.R.D. phoned over the Queen’s Speech, I told him that I did not mean any disrespect, that I wished to act constitutionally as Secretary to the Cabinet, that Sir John was still the Prime Minister, that he was not still member for Attanagalla, that I had no doubt that he would be elected, that I knew the urgency of the matter, that I had a draft ready, and that I would see him early the next morning with Sir John’s permission.

In the afternoon of the 12th, I drove to Kandawala. Sir John, dressed in a sarong and banian, was signing cheques for each of the minor employees of the External Affairs Ministry. When I explained my problem, he readily granted me permission to see SWRD. He then invited me to a drink. As it was only five o,clock, I said I would prefer a glass of iced water, and he said “You b…, you are also refusing my drinks, now that I am down?”

I said it was not that, that I had some drinks at lunch time, and that my throat was a bit parched. He was annoyed but asked the servant boy to bring two glasses of iced water. When I was there, Sir John’s house which is normally full of people was deserted by those who pretended to be his friends and enjoyed his hospitality while he was in power.

And so, the next morning, at 6. 30, I was on SWRD.’s doorstep at Rosmead Place. He had been returned by an enormous majority and was to be our next Prime Minister. I inquired from a servant boy whether the master was up and was told that he was reading a mass of newspapers. I sent my name in and was asked to come upstairs – I went in, in some trepidation, and again told him, that I meant no disrespect and that I was there with Sir John’s permission, and that at Sir John would be handing in his resignation as Prime Minister at noon.

SWRD. then made a short speech at me in a very loud voice. He said he saw no disrespect but complete integrity, that public officers from Government Agents down to village headmen had worked against him (“against me, against me” he shrieked about three times) in the election, and that he admired the correct and upright stand I had taken. He said I was the one public servant, he knew, who had acted correctly during the election. I knew now that I had saved my skin. He asked for my draft and read the three pages which I had written, slowly and carefully. He then took a blue pencil and cancelled all three pages saying “Pedestrian English Peiris, pedestrian English Take this down”, and with his usual intellectual superiority and arrogance, started dictating.

He was naturally elated at his success at the election and his future as the Head of the country. Several times I had to ask him to go slow on his dictation because I knew no shorthand, and he said “Sorry, my dear fellow”. What he dictated to me was not a Queen’s speech but a vitriolic attack on Sir John and the United National Party, an attack which he should properly have made on the floor of the house of Representatives or at a public meeting.

At the end of his dictation, I thought it my duty to point this out, which I did, adding that the Governor-General might refuse to read the Speech. There is the instance of King George V refusing to read a Speech until some objectionable words referring to His Irish subjects had been deleted. He said “take my order”.

While he was dictating to me, the servant boy was coming up every few minutes saying that another gentleman had arrived, and this was before seven o’clock in the morning. SWRD. was unwashed and unshaved and dressed in pyjamas and a dressing gown, not in the shirt and cloth. He was an Oxford man, and an Oxford man cannot easily slough his culture.

About the servant boy’s tenth visit, he lost his temper and shouted at the boy to tell them all to clear out of his house. I reminded him that he was now the Prime Minister and that his remark, if conveyed, would make a very bad beginning. I suggested that he go down as he was, in his dressing gown, see who these gentlemen were, and ask to be excused because he was extremely busy about the formation of a Cabinet and time was short.

He agreed and we both descended the stairs, he with one arm round my shoulder, and I with the draft of the Queen’s Speech under my arm. Before he lost his temper, he had suggested that I wait for bacon and eggs – Oxford again.

I cannot describe my surprise when I came down and saw who the gentlemen were who were calling so early in the morning on the new Prime Minister. They were all gentlemen in high places who used to frequent Kandawala and who had done a quick somersault and a long jump to the winning side. ‘Gosh,’ I thought, ‘aren’t there any decencies in life? What they were there for, I never found out because SWRD ordered me to get back to my office and get on with the job I had in hand.

The senior hands on my staff had dealt with the Queen’s Speech since 1974 and they were surprised when they read the draft in my long-hand before they typed it. They came to me and asked “Is this the Queen’s Speech?” And I said “No. This is Mr Bandaranaike’s speech. I am not going to have this printed”.

When the draft was typed, I took it back to Rosmead Place and asked S.W.R.D. to read in type what he had dictated to me. I told him that the language was far too strong and had to be toned down. He was calmer now; the first flush of victory and elation had receded and he was giving his mind to more urgent and important things like Cabinet-making. He again read the draft carefully, said that he agreed with me and asked me to tone it down.

I asked him whether he wished to see the second draft; time was running short. He said, “Certainly not, my dear fellow. You tone it down; you know my ideas; I can trust your discretion; have your amended draft translated and printed”. As Prime Minister, he was a mellow man. As Minister of Local Government he had been a terror to his colleagues and to the public servants who worked in his Ministry.

His Permanent Secretary, E. W. Kannanagara, told me that he had to be the shock-absorber.

The Speech, toned down by me and read by the Governor-General in S.W.R.D.’s excellent English, contained promises which the Government could not possibly fulfil. A people’s Government had been returned and the people had to be pampered and pleased, whether the Government could afford the luxury or not.

At the Opening of Parliament, the People’s Ministers, including the Prime Minister, were in national dress, wearing blue scarfs to indicate the party. I was surprised to see Ministers M. W. H. de Silva and Stanley de Zoysa in this dress. M. W. H. looked dignified as a judge of the Supreme Court in a full-bottomed wig and gown. Stanley, with his monocle and that meticulous English pronunciation of his which reminded you of a University Don – well, really, you had to look at him twice before you could recognize him. To the Senate and the House of Representatives, Ministers went in the national dress. To the Cabinet, they came in the most nondescript attire.

The first paragraph of S.W.R.D.’s first Queen’s Speech read as follows:

“The free votes of the people democratically cast at the last general election are a clear indication of dissatisfaction with many aspects of policy and administration hitherto pursued. My Government intends, in pursuance of its declared policy, to effect many changes with expedition and efficiency, but in a manner which will neither result in injustice nor cause confusion and dislocation.”

1956,SWRD, Sir. John,

The Speech continued:

“My Government wishes to assure minorities, religious, racial and otherwise, that they need have no fear of injustice or discrimination in the carrying out of its policies and programmes. My Government will ensure to all citizens the rights, privileges and freedoms to which they are entitled in a democratic state.”

Compare this with the following sentence in the Speech:

“It will also take necessary steps for the adoption of Sinhala as the one official language of the State.”

Was the Sinhala only policy not a discrimination against a minority? Was the Assisted Schools takeover not an injustice? Was it a blow at the Roman Catholic community? Are these some of the changes which the Government intended to effect with expedition and efficiency? If these were, then, many more were to follow in the years to come, some overtly, some surreptitiously and yet others by camouflage.

In SWRD.’s Cabinet there was one woman. There was also Dahanayake, later to be Prime Minister, who was always punctual and who came barefooted to meetings with a bottle of eau de cologne and, before he gave up smoking, with a tin of Peacock cigarettes. C. P. de Silva was a double first in mathematics and excelled, by reason of his previous experience as a Civil Servant, in matters relating to land and irrigation.

M. W. H. de Silva, Q. C., Minister of Justice and a kinsman of mine had held high office; he had been a Judge of the Supreme Court and our High Commissioner in India. His nickname in Hultsdorp was the ‘mule’ because, once he had made up his mind, nothing would make him change it. To illustrate this, I shall relate an incident which took place when I was an Assistant Legal Draftsman drafting the Constitution and he was Acting Legal Secretary.

A telegram had come from the Secretary of State asking for an amendment to be drafted on certain lines. M. W. H. told me the lines on which to draft. This was, in my opinion, not the lines that the Colonial Office intended, but I did not tell him so. Instead, I discussed the matter with D. S. Jayawickrama, Assistant Legal Secretary and E. H. T. Gunasekera, Crown Counsel, both of whom agreed that my interpretation of the telegram was right and that M. W. H. was wrong.

I accordingly ignored the Acting Legal Secretary’s order and drafted according to what I thought the Secretary of State wanted and took the draft to M. W. H. to be told “This is not what I want. Please draft on these lines”. I told him politely that I did not think that his interpretation of the telegram was correct, and he, equally politely, told me not to waste his time but to draft as directed by him.

I therefore went and prepared a fresh draft, but was careful to send it to him with a letter in which I said that the draft gave effect to his oral instructions but, in my opinion, did not give effect to the Secretary of State’s instructions as set out in his telegram. My second draft was telegraphed to England and soon there came back a telegram saying that the draft was not what they wanted.

M. W. H. sent for me and asked me to re-draft and I said “I told you, Sir”. All that the mule said was “Well, your job is to draft. Draft again”. I said “Here’s my first draft which you rejected earlier” and he was compelled to accept it. Except for this idiosyncrasy, he was a straight and honest and upright man, pleasant in his manner, with a sense of wit and humour. During a Cabinet discussion in which he was not interested, he would doodle, always the figure of a female.

There was William Silva, young in years, as Minister of Industries. He appeared to understand his work and the nature of his duties and made a useful contribution to the discussion. In charge of Finance was Stanley de Zoysa, an old Royalist, about two years senior to me at school, and an exceedingly polite man. Philip Gunawardene, Minister of Agriculture and food must, as a student, have spent long hours poring over Das Kapital. I had never met him before, but when I was a student in London, I had seen him addressing the mob on Sundays in Hyde Park from a soap box – a platform called the Indian Freedom League.

He always wore a canary jersey, and was a very effective and forceful speaker, with plenty of venom against the Britisher, ready wit and repartee. I mentioned this fact to him at his first meeting when I introduced myself, and he agreed that my memory was correct. He is the only Minister I have worked with since the beginning of Cabinet Government who came to a meeting thoroughly prepared, not only on his own memoranda, but also on the papers submitted by other Ministers. He would bring with him a number of Sessional Papers, Administration Reports and other official documents not referred to in the other Ministers Cabinet Papers but relevant to the issue. When he spoke, he never failed to make a useful contribution to the discussion.

As Minister of Agriculture, he was in charge of Paddy Lands and brought what the landowners thought was a revolutionary Bill. As Minister of Food, he was in charge of the Co-operative Wholesale Establishment. In all his functions, he was inclined to take as much legislative power as possible into his hands. This, the other Ministers resented, particularly, the Prime Minister. Philip was definitely of the Left. SWRD, in spite of his public statements that he was for democratic socialism or for socialistic democracy or for the middle path or for pancha sila (he was so clever in stating or not stating his position that I think nobody ever understood what exactly he stood for) was inclined towards the Right. A rift had to come, and it came. Philip’s draft legislation, submitted for Cabinet approval, gave the Cabinet the idea that he, and not SWRD was to be the virtual dictator. What with the Paddy Lands Act, the Multipurpose Cooperative Societies, the People’s Bank and the Co-operative Banking system, and a heap of other legislation he proposed, he would have been in a position to wield tremendous power in the country.

These proposals were obviously put forward to implement his political creed and not for the furtherance of his personal position. I believe he was an honest man, not capable of being bribed or influenced. When be was annoyed, his reaction was violent.

Among the other Ministers were Mrs Wimala Wijewardena, Messrs A. P. Jayasuriya, Kuruppu, Marikkar and Maithripala Senanayake.

The Cabinet came to certain decisions at its first meeting. Ministers had no time to formulate their thoughts in memoranda and the discussion was on very general points. As a People’s Government, they did not believe in Honours and decided that no recommendation should be made to Her Majesty the Queen for the conferment of Imperial Honours on citizens of Ceylon and that Her Majesty be humbly and respectfully requested to be graciously pleased to refrain from conferring such Honours on such of Her subjects as were Ceylon citizens.

Some Ministers thought that the appointment of an advocate to be a Queen’s Counsel was the conferment of an Imperial Honour. Local honours suffered the same fate. Our Diplomatic Missions abroad, Ministers and public officers were informed that no alcoholic liquor was to be served at official functions. The Senate and the House of Representatives were requested to close their bars: the House acquiesced, the Senate refused.

The Prime Minister informed his Ministers that it was his intention to obtain the services of an expert from the United Kingdom to advise the Government with regard to the nationalization of the transport services. On the budget drastic changes could not be made as the budgetary proposals for the next financial year had already been drawn up by the public officials concerned. While accepting the general structure of the next budget, Ministers were requested to include, wherever possible, in the draft estimates, all necessary items in furtherance of the policy of the Government and to omit any items which were in conflict with that policy.

With a view to bringing down the cost of living, it was proposed to reduce the price of rice and sugar. It was pointed out that a reduction in the price of rice by one cent a measure would mean an annual loss to revenue of seven million rupees, and a similar reduction in the price of sugar would mean a loss of three million rupees. In spite of the difficult financial position, something had to be done by the Government, and it was agreed to reduce the price of rice by ten cents a measure and the price of sugar by five cents a pound.

The Minister was asked to explore the possibility of buying sugar direct on a Governmental basis with a view to eliminating middlemen and reducing the cost to the consumer. The Governments of the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics made offers of economic aid which the Cabinet gratefully accepted.

The Cabinet considered seriously the question of abolishing the death penalty for murder, although the murder rate in Ceylon was probably the highest in the world. We had a Buddhist teetotal Minister of Justice, M. W. H., who was strongly in favour of the proposal, and he persuaded the Cabinet to agree to a suspension of the death penalty for a period of three years in the case of murder, abetment of murder and abetment of suicide. A sentence of life imprisonment was substituted.

On July 7, 1956, the Official Language Act, declaring Sinhala to be the one Official Language in Ceylon, came into operation. This immediately split the country into two, separating the Sinhalese from the Tamils whose ancient language had been removed from the scene altogether. This controversial piece of legislation antagonized the entire Tamil community and, for the first time after years of DS’s strenuous efforts to make the numerous races and communities, religious and otherwise, of the country into one homogeneous whole, the country was being divided by SWRD.’s Sinhala only Act.