What Really Happened in Sri Lanka?

Criminal activity is common on cruises due to the lack of security and surveillance. A flag of convenience complicates the reporting of such crimes; the country where the ship is registered can claim the right to investigate and prosecute. However, as these are usually smaller nations, they often lack the ability, resources, and incentive to undergo such investigations. Moreover, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) also permits the next port the ship visits to have jurisdiction. This is nonetheless limited to whether the crime occurred within a 12-nautical-mile zone off the coast of the relevant country. Australia can claim jurisdiction for cases where an Australian citizen is either the victim or the perpetrator of an alleged crime. Ultimately however, the unclear and complicated rules around jurisdiction can often lead to inaction and injustice for allegations of wrongdoing.

Additionally, in 2013, a parliamentary standing committee conducted an Inquiry into the Arrangements Surrounding Crimes Committed at Sea. The report recommended adopting mandatory crime reporting protocols for cruise ships. However, this does not seem to have been implemented, further complicating pathways to justice.

Another consequence of a flag of convenience is exploitative conditions for seafarers working on cruise ships. The Hustle reported that in 2018 the standard contract for a crew member mandated 308 working hours per month, which equated to 11 hours per day, seven days a week. These arduous working conditions can last up to 8 to 10 months, with no days off, and equates to earnings of $1.62 to $2.27 per hour. In 2012, P&O Cruises withheld extra tips given from passengers unless workers met performance targets. The Guardian also reported that in 2012, the cruise line denied cabin stewards an entire bonus payment worth 15 percent of their salary if they received below 92 percent in customer feedback ratings. Furthermore, many cruise lines also predominantly hire Filipino seafarers because the Filipino Government prevents its citizens from taking nearly any legal action against a foreign company.

Crew members tend to have physically demanding jobs and face the constant threat of injury. Workers often receive inadequate medical care and are promptly sent back to work. They are also discouraged from making complaints about working conditions for fear of being denied a new contract. Often, there exist clauses in employee contracts that mandate arbitration as the method for dispute resolution. However, arbitrators are alleged to give cruise lines more favourable rulings as it increases their chances of future employment. While the Maritime Labour Convention, an international agreement of the International Labour Organisation, aims to facilitate fair terms of employment, safe working and living conditions on board ships, health protection, medical care, and welfare measures for employees, cruise ships by-pass these provisions by flying under a flag of convenience of a country with lower labour standards. The responsibility to investigate violations also falls on the registered country. Thus, the loophole provided by a flag of convenience allows cruise lines to legally violate basic workers’ rights.

Cruise lines also have a detrimental effect on the environment. Ships routinely dump toxic waste into the ocean with little to no consequences, thus polluting the planet and killing marine wildlife. In 2018, an Australian Maritime Safety Authority report found that a P&O cruise ship had dumped 27,000 litres of waste in the Great

Barrier Reef. Even without illegal dumping, cruises are harmful for the environment; The

Guardian reported in 2016 that sulphur dioxide emissions from a large cruise ship are equivalent

to 376 million cars and according to the New York Times, in 2019, even the most efficient cruise ships emitted three to four times more carbon dioxide per passenger than planes. Furthermore, an average cruise ship also generates 21,000 gallons of sewage daily which is dumped into the ocean. While some cruise lines, like Royal Caribbean, have been praised for installing advanced technologies that use more filters for sewage treatment systems, there are doubts whether those mechanisms are utilised when out at sea and away from observation.

In 2017, Princess Cruises pleaded guilty in the USA to seven federal charges relating to dumping oily waste in the ocean and was issued a fine of $40 million. Reportedly, this practice had been occurring since 2005; on a single day in 2013, 4,227 gallons of oil-contaminated waste was discharged 20 miles off the coast of England. As a result, the court placed the company on probation for five years. During the first probationary year, an independent court-ordered inspector found over 800 violations; the ships had continued to discharge plastic into the ocean, falsified official records and interfered with court supervision. They were subsequently fined $20 million in 2019, with the judge threatening to ban the ships from docking in US ports if the company’s practices did not improve. In 2022, the company paid another $1 million for failing to implement court-ordered monitoring programs. However, when juxtaposed with Carnival’s annual $3 billion profit, these punishments are financially inconsequential and merely serve as another business expense for a highly profitable company. When faced with lawsuits, paying the settlement is cheaper than reform.

The accessibility, reasonable prices, and entertainment provided by cruise lines make cruises extremely attractive holiday options. This attraction accrues extreme benefits for the global economy. However, the industry’s prioritisation of profit above all else incentivises them to use loopholes in international maritime law to the disadvantage of others. Thus, tax evasion, underreporting of crime, mistreatment of workers, and endangerment of the environment are natural consequences that the cruise industry is ultimately willing to incur.

While some cruise lines, like Coral Expeditions, provide a more ethical avenue for enjoying a cruise by sailing under the Australian flag, this usually comes at a higher cost to the consumer. Similarly, the MM130, an emissions-free vessel set to launch in 2025 by the Norwegian company Northern Xplorer, promises to provide a sustainable and environmentally friendly alternative to cruising. However, the ship only holds 300 passengers, which falls short of the thousands of passengers transported typically by cruise lines. This suggests an end to cheap cruises and is an alternative many will likely not be able to afford. As a result, the consumer must decide whether the short-lived amusement obtained from a cruise is worth the danger to their safety and the horrible effects felt by both seafarers and the planet. Ultimately, the price of a cruise is far greater than the dollar amount listed on a booking website.

The economy nose-dived, the people took a pool dive and the President fled to the Maldives. A thousand miles removed, the world watched thousands of people overrun the Presidential Palace in Colombo, Sri Lanka in July this year. Almost as if they were coming together after a struggle, they took dips in his pool, did weights in his gym and slept in his bed. For a moment, celebration overtook the hunger and the hope of building a better tomorrow. The country defaulting on its foreign debt, being bankrupt and overrun with corruption has been the dominant story of this uprising. But what lies beneath is a more sinister story of exploitation and manipulation.

Through the Eyes of a Child.

Walking through Colombo from one end to another, or taking a tuk-tuk around, is an incredibly immersive experience, undeniably tied to the attempts we make to understand others, ourselves and the human condition. And it is here, in the middle of a bustling city, as one’s ears tune to the wails of the poor, that the story of a nation begs to be told. The poorest neighbourhoods in Colombo follow a distinct pattern that explains what happened on the 12th of July and its significance.

Let’s say, a child is born in the shanty estates to a family that has lived in the same overcrowded house for generations.

Amid all this fast-changing, fast-moving life around him, the child grows up and is faced with an unmoving citadel of stability in the middle of his neighbourhood. It is a house. The house is six stories. It’s not overcrowded like his. This house has a TV, a fridge. The kids in this house don’t have to use the public bathrooms at the end of the block. The children from the house often play with him and tell him stories of foods he’s never heard of. The abundance of the house is difficult for his mind to fathom.

What he ultimately notices are the security details that come and go and the black sleek vehicles that line his street. It’s not long before he makes the connection and confirms the whispers that the patriarch of the family is in business with a Politician. As he grows older, he is absorbed and sees that the man does the Politician’s dirty work.

Once the child notices this, all forces surrounding him compel him to make unbearable comparisons between the room he is sitting in and the room he is watching. When you realise the stark reality of your situation and that everyone around you is poor except for one key exception, you equate that exception to success.

The child is now an adult. Subliminally educated, constrained by the depths of his conditions, he seeks comfort anywhere only to conclude that his only chance at upward social mobility is being close to a Politician.

The Rajapaksa Chronicles

The next iteration of the story is how perfectly a family rising from the ashes was able to take advantage of this. Mahinda Rajapaksa was the President of Sri Lanka for nearly a decade, from 2005 to 2015. He was the Prime Minister during the crisis. His youngest brother, Gotabhaya, the orchestrator of the crisis, was the President who was forced to flee.

Before the time of European colonialism Sri Lanka was ruled by Kings, all of whom interwove religion and patronage into the affairs of the state. Rebellion was never tolerated, but the grip was so tight there was no rebellion at all. This is the system the Rajapaksas took for a spin. They used the patrimonial governance systems already in place, and a crisis fatigue that had enveloped the people in 30 years of Civil War, tapping into every ounce of nationalism they had.

They turned mere idealization into worship. Mahinda gained the status of “Maharajano” (The King of Kings) with the divine right to rule.

The path to economic power is ultimately through political power. For Mahinda, politics was never the handmaiden of economics. He absolved the day labourers, the press, tea pickers, teachers and healthcare workers and the civil service of any political power until the power of the Rajapaksa’s was all.

The more the people are embedded in poverty, the better they are presented as depositors for storing hate entrusted to them. Meaning that their peril should not be credited to a colossal policy failure, but to the very being of another group of people. Their success must be at the demise of this other group. Situating the Rajapakshas as the saviors in this space makes them indispensable not just to a community, but to a whole country. In an inherently patrimonial society like Sri Lanka, being poor is a passive role imposed on you. The more you adapt to the world around you and to the fragmented view of reality deposited in you, the less likely you are to challenge and transform that world. So when any chance of a development of a critical consciousness against the state was violently put down, the Rajapaksas created a people who wholeheartedly said “I don’t think, I am fed, therefore I become.” But, when the food ran out, and the fuel pumps ran dry, this came to an end. Then, what was on show was the wrath of dissent suppressed for centuries. A ticking time bomb finally exploded.

The elected political class (regardless of party) believe to their very core that the relationship between them and the electorate is akin to that of parent and child. So, the response of those who occupy the halls of power was “how dare you?”. Evidence that the (postfeudal) feudatories of a culture that has truly become post-feudal do not know what has just happened to them.

“Who, Who is Lasantha?”

In writing about the significance of this dissent, I often thought about Lasantha Wickrematunge. He was an independent journalist and Editor of the Sunday Leader, who was critical of the regime, its corrupt ways and suppression of Tamil communities during the civil war. Lasantha was murdered in January of 2009 in an effort to stamp out any dissent in the press against the Rajapaksas.

He wrote a piece in the New Yorker entitled A Letter from the Grave, pinning his inevitable assassination in the hands of the Rajapaksa brothers mere weeks before. Journalists like him, murdered and exiled, fought to keep Sri Lankans informed and politicians accountable.

When asked about the murder of Lasantha, Gotabaya Rajapaksa said, “I don’t know Lasantha. Who, who is Lasantha?” Well, I hope he looked around the streets of the country, heard the voices of the people throughout this struggle. Because that’s Lasantha. He is everywhere.