Lalith Athulathmudali a colossus sorely missed

By Krishantha Prasad Cooray

I am told that a crowd of people had stood by the statue at the corner where Rajakeeya Mawatha meets Kumaratunga Munidasa Mawatha at around 10.30 a.m. this past Saturday, 26 November. The statue had been garlanded, apparently. It’s impossible to tell if those who passed by knew what it was all about. We can’t tell if those who pass that junction on a daily basis know whose statue it is or if indeed they even noticed it. That’s how it is. Time passes, monuments once new and people once fresh in one’s memory blend into the landscape and into the long history of a nation respectively and they are no longer noticed or remembered.  

The man thus commemorated was Lalith Athulathmudali.  To put it all in perspective, even I who knew him well had no idea that such an event had been planned.  

Lalith Athulathmudali, had he lived, would have turned 80 on this day. When a man is taken at the age of 57, and a young-looking 57 at that, it is hard to imagine him with grey hair and the signs of decrepitude that time invariably etches on face, voice, words and overall persona.  

Lalith died young enough to prompt a range of questions and predictions that begin with ‘Had he lived’. 

Such words typically find their way into conversations about great men and women, people of standing, achievement and extraordinary potential.  People like Lalith Athulathmudali.

My first meeting with him left an indelible mark in my mind. I remember being hesitant when responding to his questions because I didn’t want to say something wrong and risk being crushed by a brutal repartee. All trepidation vanished when he began to speak. It was immediately apparent that before me stood a man of authority, a man of wisdom and vision, a man who weighed every word before using it, a man who had the courage of his convictions and someone who had an excellent measure of his audience and therefore was able to communicate, convince and win over anyone.

No one was too big or too small for him. He made everyone feel included and important. He convinced people that they should and they can better themselves. Today, more than 20 years later, I realise that his caring and concern for and his support of individuals, especially young people, was but an expression at the micro level of his larger vision for the nation.  

Lalith was convinced that an integral part of taking the nation forward was to inculcate the youth with the correct values, necessary skills and drive. The Mahapola Scholarship was but a small albeit significant and far-reaching element in the overall plan he had for the kind of human resource development he considered a non-negotiable precondition for progress.  

And it was not just education. Whatever subject he was assigned, Lalith put his heart and soul into the relevant work. Even when he was demoted by being offered the Ministry of Agriculture, Lalith accepted it as though it was a promotion. He observed with a smile that no less than four prime ministers have held that portfolio. And then he got down to work.  That was his way. 

He was in fact a unique kind of leader. He fervently believed that a good leader is one who sees things that others do not. He was richly endowed with all the qualities one expects of an exceptional leader.  He had the wisdom and the humility to always do his homework. He never agreed to any proposal until he had studied it thoroughly. He always asked the relevant questions, he always sought clarification.  And it was only if he was absolutely convinced that he would accept it.  

Most importantly, he dedicated a significant portion of his time to keeping himself abreast of all affairs across a wide range of subjects.  He was constantly updating himself. He was an attentive listener. He would study Tamil at 5.00 a.m. with a tutor because he was convinced that all the problems of all communities and all sections of the population should be addressed and to do this, he had to understand the issues from their perspectives.  

He was innovative and inspiring.  Lalith had an unerring eye for talent.  He not only identified but nurtured. He pushed people to raise themselves above their circumstances. He challenged people to challenge him, with observations, questions and criticism. Once he had confidence in the team he put together for a particular task, he gave them the decision-making power and supported them to the hilt.  He never had to second guess himself or look over his shoulder.  He would take risks but calculated ones.  He was never rash.

He was disciplined, focused and endowed with an alertness and quickness of mind that enabled him to conduct multiple meetings simultaneously. Finally, he was amazing with words. Lailth was a brilliant orator in both English and Sinhala. He had a voice that complemented all this. Needless to say, he swayed his audiences.  

I still recall the speech he made in Parliament on 25 September 1991, the day he resigned.  

“Contrary views are not tolerated. Academic and other attainments are ridiculed and the educated are humiliated. Maybe due to folly and perversity born of power………A patronage system hostile and dangerous to liberty has been thriving. When a Government rests upon purchased political support, true political liberty becomes a dead letter.”

Here was a man giving voice to the sentiments held by the common people.  Sadly, the sentiments expressed still hold true for the most part. This perhaps indicates the true nature of the loss that this nation suffered on account of his untimely exit. It makes us want to begin comments with ‘if only’, ‘had he lived’ and ‘what if’. 

Lalith Athulathmudali is probably one of a handful of people in post-Independence Sri Lanka who warrants the descriptive ‘Colossus’. He had presence, intellect, wit, vision, discipline, indomitable courage and the ability to face and overcome adversity and vision. A leader if ever there was one. A leader of a kind that any nation would feel blessed to have.  A leader who could bring to fruition the true potential of a people and a nation. 

Sri Lanka has had her infrequent ups and more typical downs over the past 23 years.  Perhaps, if Lalith had survived, we would talk of our nation and her fortunes in more positive terms.  Today, sadly, we can only say we are poorer.  

On the other hand, if we are to take something away from the life of this exemplary citizen, we can also be hopeful.  We can rededicate our lives and push our leaders to do things that add value to the things that Lalith Athulathmudali cherished — intellectual honesty and rigor, discipline in all matters, love for the people and the nation and unwavering commitment to do good.