Civil society can be taken to mean that part of a society that falls outside the realm of the State and the private sector.

Civil society organisations (CSOs) can take many shapes and forms – religious groups, charitable organisations, interest and lobby groups, think-tanks, professional societies, research institutes – any voluntary or professional organisation organised by citizens to further their interests.

CSOs play an important role within democratic societies. They are a means by which the citizenry can organise and represent their interest within the polity.

CSOs can canvass important issues and foster civic virtues.

Perhaps most importantly, they can act as a check and balance on the power of the state.

Paikiasothy Saravanamuttu has recently contributed a chapter on the history and politics of CSOs in Sri Lanka to a collection published late last year on civil society and the aid industry.

In this essay, Saravanamuttu, a Colombo-based political researcher, advisor and commentator, examines the important debate on civil society in Sri Lanka, mapping and situating Sri Lanka’s CSOs in that country’s democratic space.

In particular, he highlights the ‘asymmetries in power relationships between civil society organisations and the State’.

At first glance, Sri Lanka seems to have a rich tradition of CSOs.

During colonial times, Christian organisations, such as the Wesleyan Missionary Society (1814), YMCA (1882) and the Salvation Army (1882) were active in the fields of education and social welfare outside the church.

Soon after, indigenous groups also emerged. The Buddhist Theosophical Society (1880), the Muslim Education Society (1890) and the Ramakrishna Mission (1899) are just some early examples.

In more recent times, both domestic and international CSOs have been active in social welfare activities, especially in relief and rehabilitation work with those affected by the war.

However, as Saravanamuttu notes, the power and the influence of the State has always circumscribed this tradition of strong and independent CSOs. Since the early days of the post-colonial State, Sri Lankan CSOs have had to operate in the context of an increasingly adversarial relationship with the State.

As successive Sri Lankan governments instituted constitutional reforms (in 1972 and 1978), ‘the checks and balances that characterise a parliamentary democracy and are vital to its health and strength were progressively eroded.’

‘As authoritarianism became the order of the day in the 1970s with increased bureaucratisation and centralisation in the name of the people, the State encroached more and more upon the space inhabited by civil society.’

During the 17 year rule of the UNP, Sri Lanka’s CSOs were increasingly subject to regulation and limits on their freedom to operate independently of the state. The very nature of ‘civil society’ organisations was being undermined.

Non-governmental organisations (NGOs), grassroots organisations and the like were compelled to register with the government.

The NGO Commission, a Government set-up review, delivered its conservative and nationalist report in 1993, arguing that NGOs should not ‘indiscriminately’ criticise the Government.

Amidst a burgeoning civil war and a youth uprising in the South, successive governments adopted a ‘mindset critical and suspicious of NGOs as potentially unpatriotic and even subversive actors, when not inefficient and corrupt.’

In short, Saravanamuttu tells the story of a repressive Sri Lankan State out to destroy civil society and the curbing of CSO’s ability to act as a check and balance on the State apparatus.

In keeping with the theme of the collection in which his essay has been published, Saravanamuttu also discusses the implication of this asymmetrical relationship for international aid donors and NGOs.

Much of the recent discussion on civil society has focussed on the role of non-state actors in shaping the reform process; of building civil institutions to replace aspects of the State. However, in Sri Lanka and elsewhere the State cannot be ignored.

What Saravanamuttu’s essay shows perhaps most clearly is that, in Sri Lanka, reform of the State – civil society relationship, currently asymmetrical and unequal, is vital to achieving democracy and peace.

While there is a clear and positive relationship between a thriving civil society and democratisation, the Sri Lankan situation is not nearly as straightforward as it may seem.

The Sri Lankan State has ‘moved from protector and provider to predator’. It seems unlikely that it will surrender its power in relation to non-State actors, especially independent, non-partisan CSOs.

Saravanamuttu’s essay, though highly critical of the UNP regime, seems non-committal if not more positive about the last five years of PA leadership.

While Saravanamuttu fails to condemn the PA regime outright, there is little reason to believe that things have changed all that much since the UNP was ousted.

The Sri Lankan State remains predatory.

The Kumaratunge Government, while promising much reform on many fronts, seems to have failed to deliver on the promise of a more liberal civil society. Indeed, it seems that her Government has encroached further on democratic institutions, most notably the free press and freedom of association.

What is also lacking in Saravanamuttu’s consideration (somewhat ironically) is a discussion of the Tamil perspective.

A discussion of civil society, or indeed democracy, in Sri Lanka cannot ignore the implications of State policies on the Tamil population.

The deterioration of Sri Lanka’s democratic institutions, the erosion of the country’s civil society and the growth of authoritarian tendencies are all paralleled with the wholesale exclusion of the Tamil minority from the structures of power within and without the State.

As democratic space shrunk, the opportunities for democratic protest became limited. For the Tamil people, this meant that there was little and diminishing opportunity to contest political marginalisation through civil institutions.

Important opportunities to settle ethnic tensions and let off steam were lost. At the simplest level, only two options remained for protest – through ineffective party political means or through more disruptive, violent means. It is little wonder that the Tamil liberation movement and even the JVP took up arms.

Civil society is by no means meant to be a locus of consensus. At its most democratic and vigorous, civil society is just as much a site of contestation and debate as Parliament or any other State forum.

In a thriving democracy, a war of words would replace deadly military wars.

Sadly, as long as the Sri Lankan Government continues with its war footing and continues to regard civil society as a threat, this seems unlikely.

Vital opportunities to forge creative solutions have been lost. A State dominated civil society has failed to provide the avenues for dialogue and reconciliation outside party politics and within the citizenry.

In the last decade, the restrictions placed on NGOs and independent organisations have limited the opportunities for adequate humanitarian relief work to take place in war affected areas.

The Tamil people of Sri Lanka have, perhaps more than any other group, borne the brunt of the power hungry Sri Lankan State’s adversarial attitude toward civil society.

GL Peiris, Sri Lanka’s Minister for Justice, addressing a symposium on civil society in Sri Lanka listed five requirements for a successful civil society. Among his five requirements were compassion and goodwill.

It is sadly ironic that a member of a Cabinet that has waged more war at a higher cost than any of its predecessors would talk of compassion and goodwill.

Review by Puthu Sivaguru