Labour unions
Experiences of a young lad with student and labour unions
Student unions
I had no exposure to student unions until I joined Aquinas College in the ivy league in Colombo. The only civil society work under my belt was being the secretary of the English literature society in the boarding school some two years earlier.
Most of the students were over twenty. I was sixteen. Nobody took the youngsters seriously. I was in this ignored category. Aquinas student union was dominated by cult leaders. They had their henchmen and power brokers at every corner of the university. They occupied the corner seats in the cafeteria. Their power was on display. They had their class systems. Some of the leaders were sons of prominent politicians. The whole system was a power block that left the juniors out.
Every year, elections were held to select union representatives. Leading up to the election, posters and banners promoting the incumbent seniors were plastered everywhere on the campus. Lots of lobbying was going on.
I wanted to be included in this new experience. But, with no notion of union politics and being a junior, I was not welcome in this strange inner circle. Power broking in unions kept small-time operatives away. It was in their power to contain it within powerful blokes. The campus had many young women, but they did not contest. It was a bloke’s world that wielded their power. This glass ceiling was beyond me.
I volunteered to be an election official, my first-ever democratic duty. I was a volunteer foot soldier in this strange powerplay.
Volunteers ensured all posters had been removed from the campus before the voting began. My duty on election day was to check student id cards and mark off their names from the voting roll at the polling booth.
I was on duty at the entrance to the booth. A senior guy came to vote. I asked for his identity card. He made faces and reluctantly gave his identity card to me. I was busy doing my duty, checking his id against the voter list, and crossing it out. So I did not pay much attention to his reaction.
By 4 pm, the elections were over, and while the counting was going on, I was tasked to guard the entrance to the counting station. The student leader, who reluctantly gave his identity card earlier while voting, appeared with his friends, his henchmen.
Out of nowhere, and unexpectedly, he swung at me with his fist, intending to hit me. I ducked and missed his shot.
“Don’t you know who I am? You come out, and I will show you who I am. Boy! you motherfucker”. The term ‘boy’ was meant to hurt me. He is a man, and I am a boy.
He was furious that he missed hitting me. It was a big show for him in front of his accomplices. This was misplaced bravado. I was shocked by his action. I was doing my duty. This gangster felt that he was above the social norms and the law. Everyone should know who he was. That was his right. Identity cards were not for him. Whoa!
After the election results were announced, the winners celebrated. The losers got drunk with them. There was plenty of booze. Fortunately, I did not see the marauding idiot in the evening. If not, he would have had a go at me again.
Listening to two st leaders during the election campaign was the only good thing that came from my experience. Bala Tampoe and Carlo Fonseka were enlightened social and union activists in the early seventies in Sri Lanka. They were invited during my time at Aquinas for public talks.
Trade unions
A year later, I joined OTS at age eighteen as an apprentice in telecommunication. Joining the union was mandatory for all employees. So, I joined the employee union, paying six Rupees a month for the privilege.
The free-thinking lad I was, I was perplexed by the power structures in my first ever (and last workplace) in Sri Lanka. The senior workers had a disdain for juniors. Youngsters are militant by sheer nature, and this is something the seniors did not understand. With my bravado, I was a primary target. Some called me names behind my back. That did not bother me; I continued to defy many of the norms in OTS. I was not afraid of the supervisors and seniors and did not take bullshit from them.
There were exemptions from this generalisation. A few seniors were emotionally intelligent and kind. They understood me and treated me with love.
Within a year or two after I joined, there were about forty youngsters in OTS. They were disillusioned with the patriarchy in the workplace. So we ganged together and decided to challenge the status quo by contesting the elections as a youth group. I had no experience in civil duties and did not contest. Instead, we put up a more experienced youth leader, eloquent in Sinhala, who knew these civil matters to contest. But I was probably the most militant of them.
We knew our chances were slim, but it was our protest vote. On election eve, votes were counted, and the results came in. As expected, we lost. The seniors voted against us en masse.
There was another class of workers affiliated with the union. Peons, as they were called, also voted against us. They consisted of drivers, messengers, and lift operators, and they block-voted against us. The future with unproven young militants was a risky proposition to the workforce.
That evening was a period of high tension. We had challenged the status quo, upsetting the seniors. I was afraid that some of the staff, known as street gangsters, would turn violent against me. But none of that happened, and I was safe.
That was the last trade union activity in my life. A few months later, I left for Dubai, leaving Sri Lanka for good.
That was the end of unions for me. I saw it for its rawness.
I joined a British bank four months after I arrived in Dubai, where talent was recognised and promoted. I did not have to hide behind a union for my rights. My pay and benefits progressively increased. Career opportunities were mine without asking. Diversity was rewarded even in the seventies.
Characters of this story
Two of those student leaders in Aquinas ended up in Sri Lankan politics, becoming MPs in the Sri Lankan parliament. Both switched political parties for perks and have not done much for that country. One died from a bomb blast at an election rally in the nineties.
The attacker who tried to hit me in Aquinas is a symptom of Sri Lanka’s culture of impunity. Even today, almost fifty years later, Lankan politicians expect the police not to check their ids. The pollies are above the law in Sri Lanka. They break road rules causing great inconveniences to citizens. It is considered an entitlement that comes with their so-called status — an irony I cannot fathom.
Later in life, I became friendly with some senior staff at OTS who arrived in the Emirates to work. I progressed and was a peer to them in my new profession. Not that it mattered. I am above these outward social statuses. Everyone is equal irrespective of seniority.
It is by defiance that I found my progression.
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