News Desk
Ahmed Shamheed, a former transport minister and now an MP, confronted an International Monetary Fund (IMF) delegation over the Maldives’ soaring debt during a heated parliamentary committee session. The session, chaired by MP Qasim Ibrahim, quickly descended into chaos as Qasim took an unexpected stance—one that raises fundamental questions about his role in governance, accountability, and democracy itself.
Is Qasim defending the government at all costs, or is he upholding his duty as a legislator? Or worse, is he positioning himself above democratic norms?
The session turned contentious when Shamheed pointed out that “the country ended the year with a record debt of MVR 15 billion and a debt-to-GDP ratio of 130 per cent.” He questioned whether the IMF had confidence in the reform program announced by the government and sought clarity on the $400 million currency swap with the Reserve Bank of India.
As the IMF delegation began to respond, Qasim abruptly intervened. “The $400 million currency swap will not affect Maldives,” he declared, cutting off both the delegation and Shamheed. What followed was a display of authoritarian control rather than parliamentary procedure.
Shamheed, once a transport minister, had overseen the licensing of Qasim’s Maamigili airport—a time when Qasim was his mentor under President Nasheed’s administration.
Qasim not only silenced Shamheed but also hurled a derogatory remark at MP Gafoor, telling him, “Hey Gafoor, don’t be so shameless.”
MDP lawmakers pushed back, asserting that Qasim had no right to prevent IMF representatives from answering direct economic questions. “MDP should not have this kind of attitude, mind you!” Qasim shot back, defending his intervention.
His response? A deflection that bordered on evasion: the country’s debt crisis, he claimed, was not the fault of any government but rather the inevitable consequence of democracy.
“This is really a problem of democracy,” Qasim insisted, painting elections as an “auction” where each government competes to outspend its predecessor. “Every election comes like an auction. That is why government spending is increasing. Not here, but anywhere in the world. I have seen this in Sri Lanka and India, our two neighbours.”
Qasim’s tenure as finance minister saw a sharp rise in government spending—long before multi-party democracy took hold. Yet, in his recently celebrated biography written in Dhivehi, there is little mention of this history.
Throughout his statements, Qasim displayed unwavering faith in President Muizzu’s economic policies. “This government is very careful about this. We already have a salary reduction program. The President has requested it. Our committee is discussing it.”
His confidence stood in stark contrast to his earlier insistence that the debt burden was unavoidable. He seemed less an independent legislator and more a defender of the government’s agenda; an allegiance that undermines the very purpose of parliamentary oversight.
Qasim’s outburst and his attempt to control the narrative expose a deeper concern: Is he prioritizing government loyalty over accountability?
A senior politician and business tycoon, Qasim has long been an influential figure in Maldivian politics. But his actions in this session suggest a troubling inclination to stifle dissent rather than encourage open debate.
In a democracy, parliamentary committees exist to scrutinize government policies—not to shield them from criticism.
Qasim’s remarks may have been intended to deflect responsibility, but they expose a more troubling reality: when those in power blame democracy itself, they inch dangerously close to justifying its erosion.
