Ali Sabry, Podi Sabry and what a diplomess!

Amidst all this verbal ‘adi pudi’ over Channel 4 and how those chaps in the rather disunited kingdom had some antipathy for the Rajapaksas—or so says Namal—it came to light that within a couple of days of the Easter Sunday attack, brother Gotabaya announced his candidature for the upcoming presidential election.

The saviour has come, his acolytes cried in unison. He will save the nation they yelled in mounting alacrity. Some 6.9 million of those who trekked to the polls to support him waited with bated breath for the nation to rise again. They saw the glory of ancient Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa flash before their eyes.

Before long, that golden dream was beginning to turn sharply to dross. Instead of saving the nation, he could hardly save himself. He fled the nation through the backdoor, as his detractors were to say derisively, perhaps rather unfairly.

After all, Gotabaya was largely misled by that Socratic conclave of ‘intellectuals’ called Viyath Maga that stranded the new president ‘athara maga', as he was pushed into an overnight agricultural revolution, leaving angry farmers claiming that the fertiliser they were offered smelled to high heaven and was as worthless as some ministers in the Rajapaksa cabinet.

It was later in the reign of Gotabaya the First, when cabinet ministers were being appointed and disappointed, that one came to hear the name MUM Ali Sabry. Surely he must be a man of vast talent if he can play Justice Minister, Finance Minister and Foreign Minister in such a short time.

How often would you find a finance minister who accepts the job one night and turns it down the next morning as though it was as useless as the rupees being churned out by the Central Bank, but then decides to stay on the job?

Intrigued by this multi-talented politician who had suddenly come to the fore while others have struggled for years to creep into any type of cabinet, even those turned out by the Moratuwa carpenters, it was journalistic instinct, if not plain curiosity, that made one wonder about the man who was a man for all portfolios.

It came as no surprise really to be told that MUM Ali Sabry was the personal lawyer of Gota the First, and it seemed natural enough for him to be made Justice Minister. Justice must not only be done; it must seem to be done, as they say.

But then, when he was suddenly transmogrified into finance minister in place of brother Basil, who everybody thought was the ideal man to deal with figures, especially percentages, so that no IMF (known in some developing nations as the International Miserable Fund) financial fiddler could take poor ole Sri Lanker for a ride, there was lawyer Ali Sabry told to juggle our figures.

Then the next thing one hears is that politician extraordinaire and multi-faceted genius has been handed over the task of looking after the world on behalf of our nation. And mind you, not by one presidential miracle but two.

Foreign Minister Ali Sabry might be no modern Otto von Bismark or a budding Klemens von Metternich, but then who wants to be mistaken for ancestors of western imperialists? Of course, one cannot forget that Junius Richard Jayewardene, the first Executive President, was a great admirer of Napoleon the Great.

Still, MUM Ali Sabry had no qualms taking on Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau when he called us innocent Sri Lankans who wouldn’t hurt a fly (not counting others with or without wings) when the son of Pierre Trudeau had the gumption to call us genocidal something or other.

Only the other day, right there in the heart of the city where the world’s 193 nations and their excess baggage carriers gather to talk the hind legs off the annual gatherers, Ali Sabry waded into battle with the self-same Trudeau, though it was not his battle.

Mr. Ali Sabry might have saved the blood loss from his wounded pride and political escutcheon had it not been for some overzealous Sri Lankan cameraman who thought that Ali Sabry and ‘Podi’ Sabry, in tandem, bringing intellectual input and ideological deviation to astounded even the Permanent Five of the Security Council, surely needed recognition.

If that did not deserve to go down in the history of the world body, certainly it should in the modern recorded history of our Resplendent Isle. If, after all, the Greeks could tell the world what happened to aeons of free speech, dissent, and debate they enjoyed and the democratic principles and experience which they bequeathed to the world, why not Sri Lanka?

Why not, indeed? Except for that one wee problem. What on earth was the callow Podi Sabry sitting there in the hallowed assembly hall where ACS (All Countries Seen) Hameed outsmarted a Tamil imposter, passing himself off as the Sri Lankan foreign minister and Permanent Representative to the UN Shirley Amerasinghe outshone Israel’s eloquent foreign minister Abba Eban?

When the news with pictures spread far and wide in the home country, the fat was very much in the fire, as they say. Like a brave father, Ali Sabry Senior came to his son’s rescue, trying to douse the fire.

In a statement, he explained what an arduous task he was performing as foreign minister to help the president and the country, how many bilateral and multilateral meetings he had to attend, and what an asset the young man had been.

“My son has served as a research assistant and speechwriter on an ad hoc, voluntary basis at my request for a period of time. During the UNGA sessions, he volunteered to offer his time and expertise for a few days, as he is currently pursuing his studies in the United States.”

That is mighty generous of the young fellow. But dad’s defence might have had more traction and credibility if he was to say something about this “expertise”. Where is his son studying, where and in what grade and what this expertise consisted of as it seems to suggest such expertise and knowledge are not available at the foreign ministry he heads, which is a poor reflection on the quality of the career service.

It surely would have been helpful had Minister Ali Sabry made public a couple of speeches his progeny wrote to not only convince the country of his expertise but also enlighten those struggling career diplomats on how to write speeches.

Wonder whether that unwanted tirade against the Canadian prime minister on an issue that did not really concern Sri Lanka was part of the diplomatic expertise that the son transmitted to the father.

Greek mythology speaks of the great warrior named Achilles, whose mighty deeds in the Trojan War are captured in Homer’s Iliad. But Achilles had one weak spot. That was his heel.

Foreign Minister Ali Sabry’s sensitive spot is much higher up in the anatomy. It is that orifice in which many politicians have a habit of putting their feet, heel and all, in.

In an obvious reference to Justice Trudeau, Ali Sabry says, in an unguarded moment and in undiplomatic language, “I don’t think anyone should poke their noses into other countries”.

Surprising that Podi Sabry, providing advice and expertise, did not tell his father to take his own advice.

It surely would have been helpful had Minister Ali Sabry made public a couple of speeches his progeny wrote to not only convince the country of his expertise but also enlighten those struggling career diplomats on how to write speeches