Vol. 5 No.5 ISSN 1391-822X Rs. 100 DOMESTIC VIOLENCE - THE RICE POT BOILS OVER THE PUNISHMENT IS THE CRIME AYODHYA VERDICT Romila Thapar IF TERM LIMIT GOES – SO MUST IMMUNITY WHITHER ACADEMIC FREEDOM IN UNIVERSITIES? Savitri Goonesekere SUSAN DE SILVA: FEMINIST REBEL AND PIONEER LEFTIST Charles Wesley Ervin MAPPING THE DEBATE ON KASHMIR Rohini Hensman BOOK REVIEW FRAMING SRI LANKA Neloufer de Mel IN MEMORIAM PROFESSOR R.A.L.H. GUNAWARDANA – AN APPRECIATION Gananath Obeyesekere 1 Polity 04 06 08 11 12 14 21 26 30 COMMENTARY Sri Lanka’s Past Year A s the year 2010 is coming to an end, Sri Lanka is still in a state of some uncertainty about the future directions of the ‘nation.’ The optimism for peace, development, democracy and reconciliation that developed soon after the military victory over the LTTE seems to be slowly disappearing. Political developments in Sri Lanka through 2010 have revolved around two immediate options available to the UPFA government following the defeat of the LTTE in May, 2009. They are reconciliation with the Tamils and consolidation of the regime under President Mahinda Rajapake. Although these objectives were not contradictory, President Rajapakse’s political agenda in 2010 appears to have preferred consolidation of his regime and his personal authority over the state. This preoccupation with regime consolidation over reconciliation constitutes the core of Sri Lanka’s political trajectories in the year 2010. Perhaps, it is not an exaggeration to say that the main political challenge Sri Lanka faced during 2010 was the management of the country’s post-civil war politics. The defeat of the LTTE’s secessionist insurgency provided the government an unprecedented opportunity to move in the direction of not only regime consolidation, but also ethnic reconciliation, constitutional reform for greater democratization and towards resolving the ethnic conflict through enhanced regional autonomy to ethnic minorities. However, after the defeat of the LTTE, the Rajapakse government seems to have re-defined the agenda of post-civil war ethnic relations and peace-building. The dominant thinking within the regime appears to be based on the premise that once the LTTE terrorism is militarily defeated, there is no minority issue as such to be addressed politically on an urgent basis. This premise is also built on the assumption that reconciliation and conflict management should exclusively be on terms defined by the President and his government, and not by external actors or those outside the regime. Meanwhile, the government is also giving the signal that an acceptable political solution with the Tamils cannot be worked out with the present generation of Tamil leaders. The government seems to be promoting some new and young Tamil politicians along with whom a ‘solution’ acceptable to the government can be found. This policy shift has occurred in a context where Sri Lanka’s discourse on a political solution to the ethnic conflict has also lost its relevance and momentum. The argument for a political solution through greater regional autonomy received intense attention when the LTTE’s insurgency appeared undefeatable and a military solution unachievable. However, when the Rajapakse government achieved the ‘impossible;’ it radically altered the ground conditions on which the case for a political solution to the ethnic conflict 2 Polity was built. Under the new conditions, ethnic minority parties, with very little bargaining power, seem reconciled to the argument that a political solution in the conventional sense is no longer relevant to minority political interests. The recent decision of the Sri Lanka Muslim Congress, which has been in the opposition nearly ten years, to POLITY Vol. 5 No. 5 June - December 2010 Editors Jayadeva Uyangoda Kumari Jayawardena Executive Editor and Circulation Manager Rasika Chandrasekera Editorial Assistant Chandrika Widanapathirana POLITY No. 12, Sulaiman Terrace Colombo 5, Sri Lanka Telephone: 2501339, 2504623 Tel/Fax: 2586400 E-mail:
[email protected] website: www.ssalanka.org Annual subscriptions: Sri Lanka BY AIRMAIL: South Asia/Middle East SE Asia/Far East Europe/Africa Americas/Pacific countries Rs. 1200.00 US $ US $ US $ US $ 35 35 45 60 (Please note the revised subscription rates. Cheques in favour of Pravada Publications) join the UPFA coalition government further illustrates this tendency. Sharing political power at the Centre through coalition arrangements and obtaining regime support for the immediate developmental issues of their communities are two themes that constitute the current concerns of most ethnic minority parties. It is perhaps to the credit of President Rajapakse to reconfigure relations between the regime and ethnic minority parties. Economic and infrastructure development seems to constitute the mainstay of the Rajapakse government’s approach towards managing the ethnic conflict in the postcivil war phase. This approach is based on the notion that re-integration of the Tamil minority with the Sri Lankan state would be easier when the benefits of rapid economic and infrastructure development, implemented by the Central government, reached the Tamil community. Regional autonomy, according to this thinking, can even be an obstacle to the economic reintegration of the Northern and Eastern Provinces with the state of Sri Lanka. International actors too seem to be coming to terms with the government’s new doctrine of economic development over more devolution. Meanwhile, the question of Sri Lanka’s post-civil war reconciliation has been enmeshed with its foreign policy considerations. The centre of this issue is the regime’s rather stormy relationship with the UN and Western governments. The controversy goes back to 2009 when Mr. Ban Ki-moon, the UN Secretary General, began to remind the Sri Lankan President about an undertaking he, President Rajapakse, had given regarding accountability for alleged human rights violations and possible excesses during the last phase of the war. When the Sri Lankan government did not set up an institutional mechanism for accountability, the Secretary General proposed an Advisory Panel on Sri Lanka. The Panel’s task was to advise the Secretary General on what steps to be taken to ensure accountability in Sri Lanka. The Sri Lankan government strongly objected to this idea, describing it as an undue interference into the internal affairs of a sovereign member state of the UN, going beyond the mandate of the world body. Disregarding sustained opposition from the government of Sri Lanka, the Secretary General appointed the three-member Advisory Panel on June 22, 1010. The government appointed a Commission called Lesson Learned and Reconciliation Commission. The LLRC has been conducting public hearings and its final report, one can hope, will recommend creative ways for reconciliation and peace-building. Meanwhile, a key theme in Sri Lanka’s contemporary political debate has been the need for constitutional reform for ethnic conflict resolution and democratization. Enhancing devolution and abolition of the presidential system of government have been two reform measures for which there had emerged a broad consensus among political parties. While the present government has removed constitutional reform for greater devolution of power from the political agenda, ironically in September 2010 it passed the 18th Amendment to the Constitution which further strengthened the President’s powers and control over the state, the legislature, the regime and the polity. This Amendment has removed the constitutional barrier to the re-election of the present President for more than two consecutive terms. Constitutional ideologues have been defending this rather undemocratic reform on the argument that the removal of unrealistic checks and balances on the powers of the President was necessary for the country to move forward quickly in a post-conflict setting. Signs are that Sri Lanka is moving in a rather unclear direction of home-grown ethnic reconciliation. The year 2010 saw the continuation of the political trends that appeared on the horizon in the latter part of 2009. The end of the war with the LTTE has created a sense of stability and calm in the country with virtually no major incidents of political violence and grave human rights violations. Interestingly, some sense of uncertainty and instability developed only during the period of the Presidential election. However, the ability of the UPFA regime under President Rajapakse to win both Presidential and Parliamentary elections and then corner the opposition, highlighted the priority given to regime consolidation and the President’s own concern for ensuring that his authority is firmly secured. Will the year 2011 be any different? P 3 Polity Cat’s Eye DOMESTIC VIOLENCE - THE RICE POT BOILS OVER T here is an old saying that has been frequently bandied about to dismiss violence in the home and to critique the laws enacted to prevent domestic violence in Sri Lanka. The adage “anger between a husband and wife is only until the pot of rice gets cooked” is probably true in many small arguments between husbands and wives, but what is its significance in real domestic violence disputes? Statistical data and anecdotal information on domestic violence show a high prevalence of domestic violence in Sri Lanka and that the majority of these victims are women. Studies reveal that 60% of women in Sri Lanka face some form of domestic violence during their lives. Domestic violence is defined as “violence perpetrated in the domestic sphere, which targets women because of their role within that sphere, or violence which is intended to impact, directly and negatively on women within the domestic sphere.” Domestic violence can include physical, emotional, sexual and economic violence, which can impact on victims (both direct victims and their children) with life-threatening and long-term harm. Women’s Crisis Centres and Police Women and Children’s Desks as well as Mediation Boards, Grama Niladharis, newspapers, community organizations and even faith-based groups can provide extensive evidence of domestic violence incidents that do not cease when the ‘pot of rice is boiled.’ They are incidents of severe physical, sexual, and emotional abuse – of real women with broken bones, burnt torsos, hacked and mutilated bodies, traumatized, victimized, and tortured as defined in Sri Lanka’s anti-torture laws. These incidents involve women and their children. These are not disputes that came up when the pot of rice was placed on the fire and these are not disputes that end when the rice cooked. Mechanisms for Prevention W e have many redress mechanisms that address family disputes; the police, mediation boards, counsellors at Divisional Secretariat offices, family elders, community leaders... the list is vast and their services are greatly valuable despite gaps in ideological approaches and space for improvement. These address small remediable disputes and help families reconcile their differences and promote conciliation. In contrast, laws on preventing domestic violence are meant to address a whole different gamut of violent crimes between husbands and wives. In a society where the family is upheld as the most sacred social institution, it is not pleasant to consider that within the walls of some families, women are abused in inhuman ways. For over a century, Sri Lanka hid behind the provision that women abused by their husbands can access punitive justice via the Penal Code which lists some offences that describe domestic violence disputes. But no women came forward and no cases went to court under the Penal Code, not because there was no violence being perpetrated within families, but because of this very same sentiment - that domestic disputes should be kept domestic and it was wrong as the Sinhala saying goes to “spread home fires to the outside world…” Lobbying Against Domestic Violence S ri Lanka considers domestic violence as a grave social issue that requires multi-focal strategic interventions. Sri Lanka’s commitment to the UN Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women (DEVAW) accepts that “violence against women is acts that result in, or is likely to result in, physical, sexual or psychological harm or suffering to women, including threats of such acts, coercion or arbitrary deprivation of liberty, whether occurring in public or in private life”. The Sri Lanka Women’s Charter endorses this recognition and in response the National Committee 4 Polity on Women has spearheaded the Sri Lanka action plan on preventing domestic violence. The State, nongovernmental, professional, service sectors and academia provide multifaceted initiatives aimed at addressing and reducing domestic violence. These institutions have repeatedly argued for the need for extensive strategic and long-term programming to address gender-based violence as urgent at all levels of society from policy level to community level. As a result of strong lobbying by civil society organizations strengthened by research carried out by institutions and individual academics, the Prevention of Domestic Violence Act was enacted in September 2005. Until the enactment of the Act, domestic violence was virtually an invisible phenomenon in Sri Lanka, unrecognized by the State and accepted as the norm by society at large. With the passing of the Act, for the first time in the history of the country’s laws, domestic violence was accepted as a crime from which victims were to be protected. The Law prevent women recognizing, reporting and taking action on domestic violence. For those women who have the strength to break the silence on domestic violence, the formal courts of law offer protection for victims and punitive action can be taken against perpetrators. Yet many are unable to actually access the formal justice system because the first points of entry for redress (largely the Police and public officers in the community such as Grama Niladharis), often discourage remedial action on the basis of solving the dispute and keeping the ‘family together.’ Here the Police and public officers play an informal (and therefore untrained) counselling/mediating role of using their personal life skills and perceptions of dispute resolution and family harmony to provide immediate ‘relief’ to victims. Or the victims and perpetrator are referred to community mediation boards. The key feature in the PDV Act is that it provides for a protective remedy and not a punitive course of action – as it concentrates on keeping women safe rather than on punishing the perpetrators. The provision of the Act, that enables a court order to prevent a violent member from causing further harm by keeping him out of the home and away from the victim, is seen as ‘breaking up families.’ It would of course be worthwhile to consider whether families are ‘broken up’ by continuing violence or whether they are ‘broken up’ by the effort to live violence-free – a fundamental human right? Or as argued by Prof. Savitri Goonesekere: “Helping women facing gender based violence to end this violence does not mean breaking up a family unit. When there is violence in the home, the family is already broken. Even though a husband and wife live under the same roof and share a child or children, if the wife is being subject to violence, the family is already torn apart. Helping this woman to end the violence she is experiencing will save her life and the lives of her children. It will help preserve her family.” Supporting the Law W ith the institution of the Prevention of Domestic Violence Act, the laws that deal with the phenomenon in Sri Lanka became twofold; by way of the Prevention of Domestic Violence Act and by the Penal Code. The Prevention of Domestic Violence Act No 34 of 2005 provides for protective measures where a victim of domestic violence can access the formal legal system to obtain a Protective Order from courts of law. The description of domestic violence in the Act recognizes several offences against the body of a person which are already included in the Penal Code as well as those of emotional abuse (a pattern of cruel, inhuman, degrading or humiliating conduct of a serious nature directed towards an aggrieved person). In terms of the Penal Code recognition, the State can file action against a perpetrator of domestic violence under the country’s general penal laws. Despite this visibility and recognition of domestic violence as a crime, actually addressing the issue still remains a problem that is clouded by society’s expectations of the gendered identities, roles and behaviour of women/men and of socio-cultural norms. Research shows that the burden of stigma, social and economic vulnerabilities, the lack of formal protection systems and supportive access to justice, and socialization processes that minimize the gravity of domestic violence are significant factors that T he sporadic debates on the law as ‘drastic,’ laws that break up families and help wives push husbands out of the marital home, become irrelevant for two reasons. One-because the laws prevent women and children from life-threatening situations; if placed outside the domestic sphere, these crimes would carry prison sentences, fines and compensation for victims. Two, the laws that address domestic violence are aimed primarily at protecting victims 5 Polity who are largely women and children. In a country which is proud of protecting its women, these laws should not place anyone on the defensive or warrant criticism on its negative influence on family peace. Therefore the current arguments on the overcrowding of Sri Lankan prisons as well as the drain on State funds to implement punitive measures and rehabilitation are not valid claims when it comes to perpetrators of domestic violence given the severity of the crime. These violent acts, if committed by a person on a person outside of a home and a family relationship, would not warrant any discussion on the repealing of the Act or the pardoning of perpetrators. It may be timelier to recognize that those who violate the very people they are supposed to love and honor, and who are their closest and dearest, may be affected by alcoholism, or a particular mental disability. Furthermore, patriarchy– the unequal power structures with certain homes and family relationships–can also be the cause and result of domestic violence. Rather than cloak these issues in simplistic discussions relating to family harmony and rice pots, are we ready to take forward the recognition and commitment once made by the State to look into the more serious issues surrounding domestic violence? Or are we going to let the majority of women facing domestic violence situations within their homes fend for themselves? Courtesy Sunday Island THE PUNISHMENT IS THE CRIME W hile the country is supposed to be a civilized democracy where the rule of law prevails, it is appalling that extra-judicial punishments of a medieval, barbaric nature are being inflicted on the poor – by persons in authority. Such individuals who have no legal authority to punish, take the law into their hands and administer punishments with impunity. T Three recent scandals hree outrageous incidents have recently been reported. The first is the case of a Deputy Minister, Mervyn Silva tying a Samurdhi officer to a tree over the latter’s failure to attend a dengue prevention campaign in Kelaniya. The police looked on and only a woman present raised strong objections. The incident was widely publicized; Mervyn Silva was punished and then exonerated by a committee of the SLFP appointed to look into the issue. The second incident that has been widely condemned was a horror story of a Sri Lankan housemaid in Saudi Arabia who had nails and needles inserted into her body allegedly by her employer. This case has been reported in all newspapers locally and attracted international attention. It has served to highlight the plight of Sri Lankan housemaids abroad who have no legal protection or basic rights. The third incident, reported by the Asian Human Rights Commission is that of a Muslim woman aged 17 being summarily punished with 100 lashes by men of the mosque committee in Gokarella in the Kurunegala district. The ‘offence’ was that she had a child out of wedlock, and although she had subsequently married another man, she was harshly punished, leading to her taking treatment at the Mawatagama hospital. The report claims that the husband’s efforts to make an entry at the Gokarella police station failed. It is a fact that Moulavis of mosques in Sri Lanka have committees which can resort to such summary punishments of believers. Summary Punishments T hese ‘punishments’ are a throwback to a feudal period during which kings, chiefs, priests and people in authority imposed summary punishments on those who failed to toe the line. In medieval Europe radical women were called “witches” and burnt at the stake. In more recent times, in post-World-War- 2 France, women who were allegedly Nazi collaborators had their heads forcibly shaved. These acts – all extra-legal – are reminiscent of what Michel Foucault discusses in his work Discipline and Punish. He argues that “Discipline ‘makes’ individuals; it is the specific technique of power that regards individuals both as objects and as instruments of its exercise.” It is through disciplining and punishment that people are brought under control and the techniques of severe censure, shaming, and torture used by the mosque authorities, the politician, and 6 Polity Saudi employer happen because they treat their victims as objects and instruments of their power. Blind Eye of Law Enforcement W hat is significant is that both in the case of the Muslim teen and the Samurdhi officer, the law enforcement authority—namely the police—has committed a grave dereliction of duty. The Constitution of Sri Lanka specifies, under article 11, that “No person shall be subject to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.” Moreover, article 12 (1) of the Constitution states that “All persons are equal before the law and are entitled to the equal protection of the law.” So if people are entitled to equal protection under the law, what was the police doing? In the tree incident, a police officer was at the scene, but action was taken against Mervyn Silva only at a political level – not at the level of law enforcement. The Constitution, under article 28 casts a duty on “every person in Sri Lanka” (inter alia) “to uphold and defend the Constitution” [Art.28 (a)]; and “to respect the rights and freedoms of others” [Art.28 (e)]. The mosque committee and the politician were clearly in violation of this clause. Yet the police looked away, and in the case of the Muslim wife and husband, they were unable to lodge a complaint. Denial/Justification hen reprimanded, the response by the perpetrators of violence against individuals has often been to issue denials, as in the case of Mervyn Silva and of the Saudi housemaid. In cases such as punishments meted out through religious institutions such as mosque committees, the justification is that they are enforcing correct morality among the believers. Communities may think they are maintaining discipline and good conduct to keep both men and women in line. What is more many men use this argument to justify violence in the home, in spite of the existence of a law against domestic violence. Other Violent Actions uring times of peace, violence does not suddenly abate and many other instances of extra-legal violence, killings and acts of humiliation have recently occurred. Some notable examples being the chasing of a mentally disabled man into the sea resulting in his drowning at Bambalapitiya; the assaults on university students by “raggers”; violence of teachers against school children; the persistence of violence in the home against women and children; and the prevalence of punishments by humiliation in some institutions such as the forced shaving of heads of “offenders.’ What is dangerous is that if this type of violent behaviour is not checked, it will continue unabated. “Copy cat” incidents of tying people to trees have already been reported in the newspapers and on TV. During the decades of war in Sri Lanka, the brutalization of society and the culture of violence were blamed for the escalation of violence and the flouting of the rule of law. Today we have no excuses. Courtesy Sunday Island D W Call for Papers Call for papers for new series of Social Science Review (SSR) Published by the Social Scientists' Association (SSA), Colombo, Sri Lanka. Social Sciences Review is a multidisciplinary peer-reviewed journal devoted to publishing research papers in all related fields of social sciences. Since this journal is multidisciplinary, quality papers from various disciplines such as Economics, Demography, Political Science, Geography, Psychology, Literature, History, Anthropology, Sociology, Communication and English would be considered. Aimed at providing an international and local forum for exchange of ideas across cultures, articles submitted must be theoretically rigorous; offer new insights; include recent review of literature; apply appropriate methodologies; and include stimulating discussion of results and conclusions. Therefore, the Publisher and the Editorial Board of Social Sciences Review invite scholars and researchers to submit original papers for review and publication in the journal. To be considered for publication requires submission of a completed 6,000-8,000-word essay by December 15, 2010. Please do not hesitate to contact the editors for further information. EDITORS Prof. Neloufer De Mel, Department of English, University of Colombo, Colombo 03. Email: Dr. Premakumara De Silva, Department of Sociology, University of Colombo, Colombo 03. Email: prema112@ hotmail.com or
[email protected] Address: Social Scientists’ Association, Sulaiman Terrace, Colombo. Tel: 2501330, 2504623, 2586400 Email:
[email protected] 7 Polity Ayodhya Verdict Romila Thapar T he verdict is a political judgement and reflects a decision which could as well have been taken by the state years ago. Its focus is on the possession of land and the building a new temple to replace the destroyed mosque. The problem was entangled in contemporary politics involving religious identities but also claimed to be based on historical evidence. This latter aspect has been invoked but subsequently set aside in the judgement. The court has declared that a particular spot is where a divine or semi-divine person was born and where a new temple is to be built to commemorate the birth. This is in response to an appeal by Hindu faith and belief. Given the absence of evidence in support of the claim, such a verdict is not what one expects from a court of law. Hindus deeply revere Rama as a deity but can this support a legal decision on claims to a birthplace, possession of land and the deliberate destruction of a major historical monument to assist in acquiring the land? The verdict claims that there was a temple of the twelfth century AD at the site which was destroyed to build the mosque – hence the legitimacy of building a new temple. The excavations of the Archaeological Survey of India and its readings have been fully accepted even though these have been strongly disputed by other archaeologists and historians. Since this is a matter of professional expertise on which there was a sharp difference of opinion, the categorical acceptance of the one point of view, and that too in a simplistic manner, does little to build confidence in the verdict. One judge stated that he did not delve into the historical aspect since he was not a historian but went on to say that history and archaeology were not absolutely essential to decide these suits! Yet what are at issue are the historicity of the claims and the historical structures of the past one millennium. A mosque built almost 500 years ago and which was part of our cultural heritage was destroyed willfully by a mob urged on by a political leadership. There is no mention in the summary of the verdict that this act of wanton destruction, and a crime against our heritage, should be condemned. The new temple will have its sanctum – the presumed birthplace of Rama – in the area of the debris of the mosque. Whereas the destruction of the supposed temple is condemned and becomes the justification for building a new temple, the destruction of the mosque is not, perhaps by placing it conveniently outside the purview of the case. The verdict has created a precedent in the court of law that land can be claimed by declaring it to be the birthplace of a divine or semi-divine being worshipped by a group that defines itself as a community. There will now be many such janmasthans wherever appropriate property can be found or a required dispute manufactured. Since the deliberate destruction of historical monuments has not been condemned what is to stop people from continuing to destroy others? The legislation of 1993 against changing the status of places of worship has been, as we have seen in recent years, quite ineffective. What happened in history, happened. It cannot be changed. But we can learn to understand what happened in its fuller context and strive to look at it on the basis of reliable evidence. We cannot change the past to justify the politics of the present. The verdict has annulled respect for history and seeks to replace history with religious faith. True reconciliation can only come when there is confidence that the law in this country bases itself not just on faith and belief, but on evidence. Courtesy Hindu Romila Thapar is Emeritus Professor of Ancient Indian History 8 Polity APPEAL TO FELLOW CITIZENS Civil Rights Movement W e have witnessed thirty years of armed conflict and the erosion of democratic values entrenched in the first post-independence Constitution. The end of the armed conflict brought with it high expectations of a just peace, strengthened democracy and development. The proposed changes to the Constitution do not merely disappoint these expectations, but in themselves give rise to grave apprehensions. Major changes affecting the scope of the President’s powers are being rushed through as “urgent in the national interest”. They were approved at a special meeting of the Cabinet on Monday 30th August, and referred immediately to the Supreme Court. We understand that the final form of the Bill was made available to concerned citizen groups and legal counsel only halfway through the Attorney-General’s submissions to the Supreme Court at the hearing on 31 August. We see no justification for having certified the Bill as “urgent in the national interest”. Such certification gives the Supreme Court very little time to reach its determination, and restricts the opportunity for members of the public to intervene and make representations at the hearing. “What is contemplated is a judicial decision as to whether a provision of a Bill is inconsistent with the Constitution. A judicial decision means that the court must judge conscientiously and as correctly as it possibly can. To do this the court must first inform itself regarding the arguments for and against, read the authorities cited, and make up its mind. The human mind is not an automaton which can be called upon to make a decision in a limited time without regard to arguments, reasons or precedents. A judge should be convinced of the correctness of his decision before he decides. If he decides with a mental reservation that he has not had time to explore all aspects of a question, he should not decide, as he may decide wrongly, and thus the citizens may be deprived of the benefit of an important safeguard.” (S. Nadesan QC address to the Constitutional Court, 1972) future governance. To engage in informed public discussion is surely a basic right of the people. Its denial indicates a cynical disregard of citizens’ rights and the public interest. Main Objections to the Bill (a) It seeks to eliminate the limitation placed by the Constitution on the Executive President’s term of office; and (b) It dilutes, to the extent of negating, the effect of the Constitutional Council responsible for nominating and/ or approving suitable candidates to the Supreme Court, the Court of Appeal and the independent Election, Public Service, Police, Judicial Services and Human Rights Commissions. The 1978 Constitution confers near absolute powers on the executive presidency, coupled with immunity from legal action. This has contributed to an erosion of the key institutions necessary for good governance. This is evidenced by the reality of political interference with law enforcement agencies such as the police as well as the public service and the conduct of elections to legislative bodies. For these reasons abolishing the Executive Presidential system was incorporated in election manifestos of many parties over the years, including in the Mahinda Chinthanaya of 2005. Democratic governance requires adequate checks on state power. The only existing checks on the Executive President of Sri Lanka are (a) the limitation of the presidency to two terms and (b) the Constitutional Council (as created by the Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution). We are of the opinion, that the presidential immunity was conferred in view of that term limit. If the term limit is to go, then the immunity conferred on the President must also be removed. For the knowledge that at a definite time within the foreseeable future the President will once again be legally accountable for acts committed whilst in office is a powerful deterrent against misuse of power. The reality of abuse of executive powers that the country witnessed in these key areas was addressed to some extent by the Seventeenth Amendment which provided for independent commissions. While recognizing the weaknesses in the Seventeenth Amendment with regard to The Bill is reportedly to be debated to a finish on Wednesday 8 September. All this within the space of ten days! Political parties, civil society groups, concerned citizens and the media have had no adequate time to discuss the provisions of the Bill or express views on its content and implications for 9 Polity the method of appointment of the Constitutional Council, we must appreciate that it was for the purpose of introducing mechanisms to prevent abuse of Presidential powers and minimize political interference with key institutions. The proposed amendment once again gives the President untrammeled power to make direct appointments to bodies that should, in the interests of the people, be independent of political pressure. If this becomes law, a President will only have to obtain “the observations” of others; and will not be bound to follow those observations. We unreservedly oppose this move. The President will be required to attend Parliament at regular intervals, but this cannot be considered an arrangement that will make him accountable to Parliament in the manner of a Prime Minister. A check on the executive is the only way to protect citizens’ rights.Hence the importance of fundamental rights challenging state action, and the limited term of the presidency. That a person may be a Prime Minister or a Minister or an MP or Leader of the Opposition any number of times is irrelevant because they do not exercise the same near-absolute powers. More important, they do not have the immunity from legal action that the Presidency enjoys. Current arguments on the need to re-elect a President for unlimited terms personalize the issue and focus on the importance of permitting President Rajapaksa to be a Presidential candidate for many terms given his landslide electoral success. However, Constitutional amendments will incorporate conditions that will apply irrespective of personal considerations, to any successor to this office. The proposed amendment will further entrench the worst features of the Presidential system of government under the present Constitution. The government did not receive a two thirds majority with a mandate from the people to introduce these major changes to our political life. Development is about the rights and wellbeing of the people. To deny to the people accountable governance and democratic space is to make a mockery of the development process, especially in the context of a post-conflict society. OUR APPEAL W e seek the support of all Sri Lankans, in calling upon Members of Parliament to exercise their right to vote against the Bill; We appeal to fellow citizens and civic-minded organisations to prevail on the government to postpone the enactment of the Amendment until the public has time to be properly informed, to debate, and to respond to its implications; We appeal to the President to even at this stage halt the process that has been set in motion, and to revert instead to the longhoped-for and many-times-promised abolition of the Executive Presidency. Suriya Wickremasinghe, Civil Rights Movement Available Soon at SSA / Suriya Bookshop “Locations of Buddhism is an important and much-needed biography of the Sri Lankan monk Hikkaduve Sumangala. In it Anne Blackburn not only explores the interplay between Buddhist monk intellectuals and the colonial establishment during the heyday of British colonialism in the latter half of the nineteenth century, but also examines in depth the interconnections of Sri Lankan Buddhism with other Buddhist nations of Southeast Asia, particularly Thailand, Burma, and Cambodia. This is a must-read for students of Buddhism and for those interested in colonialism in this region.” GANANATH OBEYESEKERE Price : Rs. 850/- 10 Polity IF TERM LIMIT GOES – SO MUST IMMUNITY CRM statement on 18th Amendment to the Constitution If the President’s term limit is removed, the President’s immunity must go too. Immunity and term limitation are integral parts of the 1978 constitutional package which created the Executive Presidency, and they cannot be separated. A President’s immunity is not for life. It is only for the period that he or she is President. Once a President steps down from office he or she may be sued like any other citizen for any wrongful act committed while in office. A powerful deterrent on a President committing an offence while in power is the knowledge that, once his or her terms ends, which end will be at a time in the foreseeable future, liability under the normal law of the land will resume. Justice is not denied to an injured party, it is only postponed. The 1978 Constitution limited this possible postponement to a maximum of twelve years. This is already long enough for an injured party to wait for redress, for memories to stay fresh, for witnesses to remain available and healthy. Imagine trying to seek justice after a span of eighteen, or twenty-four, or thirtysix years! There may be countries (such as the UK) where the nominal head of state enjoys lifetime immunity; this is passed down from the age of monarchs whose real power has been steadily stripped away. Is there any democratic society in the world that grants a political head of state, one who wields real political power, such immunity, which may in practice last even a lifetime? Under the Prime Ministerial system, a person could be Prime Minister any number of times, and indeed this happened. That was no problem because the Prime Minister did not enjoy any immunity whatsoever, and nobody ever suggested that this was a hindrance to his or her work. Under the Prime Ministerial system of the 1972 Constitution (but not under the Soulbury Constitution) the nominal head of state enjoyed immunity but the powers attached to the office were negligible. Here again immunity ceased when the President’s term, which was four years, ceased. The 1977 amendment and the 1978 Constitution introduced the totally new concept of the Executive President in whom unprecedented powers were vested. It was the introduction of Presidential immunity that gave many persons grave misgivings about the Executive Presidency when it was first introduced. Some of these fears were slightly assuaged by the two term limit. It is hard to believe that even J.R. Jayewardene would have had the chutzpah to make the present proposal. It is outrageous that a constitutional change of such serious implications be rushed through the Supreme Court and Parliament as “urgent in the public interest” without people having the chance to discuss this serious issue amongst themselves, for individuals and lawyers to make considered representations to the Supreme Court, and without the Supreme Court itself having time to hear well thought-out and cogent arguments. The rushing through of the virtual repeal of the 17th amendment to the Constitution is equally astounding but is not adverted to in this short statement. Suriya Wickremasinghe, Civil Rights Movement Available Soon at Suriya Bookshop Dennis B. McGilvray THE CRUCIBLE OF CONFLICT - Tamil and Muslim Society on the East Coast of Sri Lanka New edition – Rs. 850/11 Polity Whither Academic Freedom in Universities? Savithri Goonesekere o amount of local or World Bank funding poured into universities to improve what is described as the ‘Relevance and Quality of University Education’ will create a vibrant intellectually lively university community with high standards of excellence in teaching, research and learning, if there is cynical disregard of the core values on freedom of thought, expression and personal integrity in academic life. Universities may generate knowledge, but hardly the wisdom to understand the lessons of history on the link between democratic accountable governance and human wellbeing. N The passage of the 18th Amendment Bill in Parliament has drawn our attention once again to the politicization of key institutions that we have witnessed over the years. The public has become increasingly cynical about the capacity of the police and the administration responsible for conducting elections to legislative bodies to act in the public interest. Professor Sasanka Perera’s article published in the Island of 8th September 2010 in the midst of the constitutional debate draws our attention to another reality–the politicization of administrators holding important posts in the university system that we have also witnessed, especially in the last two years. Eight academics from three of our State universities have in the ‘Oponion Page’ of the same newspaper called upon the government to reconsider its decision on the 18th Amendment, and give the public time to debate its implications. A lecturer from the Faculty of Law in the University of Colombo appeared as a petitioner and argued against the Bill in the Supreme Court. A few signed the statement on the unconstitutionality of the Bill, published by the Civil Rights Movement and the Friday Forum, that appeared in the Island on the 8th September. This may create the impression that the values on intellectual freedom of thought and expression upon which great universities throughout history have been founded, are values that are internalized and respected in our own university system. Professor Perera’s piece on the island stimulates a discussion on whether or not these important values are being undermined in our State universities, and their relevance in the new context where there is highly publicized and strident rhetoric on the need for ‘strong and stable governance’ for development. University academics unlike public servants governed by the Establishments Code have been free to appear on public platforms and speak for or against the government’s position on issues of public concern, even though their salaries are paid by the State. However, when an academic becomes an administrator–as a Vice-Chancellor, a Dean of a Faculty - they are considered administrative ‘Officers of the University’ under the Universities Act 1978. The Chairman of the University Grants Commission (UGC) appointed under this Act is also considered an administrator, as the head of the agency responsible for resource allocation and monitoring academic standards and administrative efficiency in the university system. These ‘Officers’ are expected to respect the norm of university autonomy and independence from political interference, which the Act of 1978 tried to incorporate. The Universities Act 1978 was passed by Parliament, and tried to give back the State-university system, structures of governance that could help to create a teaching research and learning environment free of political interference. It reverted to structures of autonomous university governance familiar in many countries, such as a University Senate (the highest academic body) and the Council (the governing body responsible for university administration). The Vice Chancellor became the ex-officio chairman of the Senate and the Council. All Deans of Faculties became ex officio members of the Council, to ensure voice of the Senate and the academic community of the University in the governing body, the Council. This is the model followed by many universities including the university system in India. The University Grants Commission (UGC) as its name suggests, was the agency conferred with the important responsibility of resource allocation and ensuring that universities conform to government policy on Higher Education (e.g. medium of instruction and admissions). Despite these safeguards, academics have constantly complained of the erosion of university autonomy and the need for greater independence, particularly in regard to the appointment of Vice-Chancellors. Since a sitting ViceChancellor could manipulate the process of nomination by the Council, the Act was amended in 1994 to restrict the 12 Polity term, creating a value system on two terms in office that has been followed by many Faculties in the election of Deans. The National Education Commission (NEC), advising on educational policy chaired by Professor R.P. Gunewardene, with the participation of senior university academics and administrators, studied the University Act 1978, and made proposals for giving further autonomy to the universities. These proposals recommended the repeal of controversial provisions in the Act that were considered to conflict with the values on university autonomy, introducing more safeguards against political interference. The UGC under the Chairmanship of late Professor S. Tillekeratna also had many discussions on amendments to the Act. A draft Act incorporating some of these proposals was submitted by the NEC to President Kumaranatunga in 2005. Courtesy, Sunday Island Savithri Goonesekere is former Professor of Law in the University of Colombo and former Vice-Chancellor. A BLOW AGAINST ACADEMIC FREEDOM IN INDIA On September 14 2010, the Bharatiya Vidyarthi Sena, the student wing of the right-wing Shiv Sena, burnt copies of Rohinton Mistry’s novel Such a Long Journey in front of the University of Mumbai gates. It offered an ultimatum of 24 hours to the university to withdraw it from the syllabus of the second year Bachelor of Arts (English). The group objected to its “anti-Shiv Sena passages” and “derogatory references” to Mumbai’s ‘dabbawalas’ who carry tiffins for office-goers, Marathispeaking people, and Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, and to the “extremely obscene and vulgar language in its text”. Anyone who has read the novel would know how frivolous these claims are. In fact, it was the fourth year that the novel was being used as a text, and no one had objected until Aditya Thackeray, grandson of Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray (whose foul and filthy language was legendary), decided to make it his political launching pad. Such behaviour is not new for the Shiv Sena, and would hardly have made a stir if it had been ignored by the university. What made it news was the fact that the Vice Chancellor, Rajan Welukar, acceded within the deadline without even a murmur. There were numerous protests, and St Xaviers’ College, which is an autonomous body, refused to take the book off the syllabus. On the 18th, three human and democratic rights groups organised a book reading and discussion around the issue of its withdrawal from the syllabus. As Rohinton Mistry said in a statement that was read out, the only bright spot in the whole sordid affair was the outcry from civil society and the widespread demand that the book be reinstated. However, that did not happen. A pattern had been set whereby thugs of an extreme right-wing party could dictate what could or could not be part of a university syllabus. 13 Polity SUSAN DE SILVA: FEMINIST REBEL AND PIONEER LEFTIST Charles Wesley Ervin I n colonial Ceylon women played an important, if not always fully acknowledged role, in the progressive movements of the early twentieth century. Susan de Silva was one of those pioneers. Born around the turn of the century to an elite Catholic family in Colombo, Susan de Silva became involved in radical politics in the ‘twenties. In 1931 she played a leading role in mobilizing a new radical youth movement that carried out the famous Suriya Mal protest campaigns. She was one of the first women to associate with the communist group that formed within the youth movement. In 1935 she was a founding member of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party (LSSP), the country’s first socialist party, and remained an active cadre until 1947. She subsequently joined the Communist Party of Ceylon. She retired from active politics when she was in her sixties. In October 2010 I wrote a short biography of Susan de Silva for The Sunday Island in Sri Lanka.1 As I noted in that article, I hadn’t been able to uncover much information about her family background and upbringing. Her nephew, Eymard de Silva Wijeyeratne, read the article and responded with a letter to the newspaper, providing some crucial additional information.2 Thanks to his input, I can now present a more rounded picture of this brave feminist rebel and dedicated leftist. Rebellious and Brilliant Ancestors first president of Ceylon’s Senate, described him as “one of the most brilliant young men that Ceylon ever produced.”8 Walter went to the Royal Indian Engineering College at Cooper’s Hill in England and finished his first year with top marks.9 But in his second year he became ill and had to return home. Susan’s father started a private school, the Lorenz Tutory, on Skinners Road in Maradana, not far from his father’s house in Silversmith Street and the Independent Catholic Church in Wolfendhal. The tutory prepared boys from well-to-do families to sit for their matriculation exams. It is telling that he named it after one of the most progressive and secular reformers of the nineteenth century - the lawyer and Freemason, Charles Ambrose Lorenz.10 Under Walter’s direction, the Lorenz Tutory became “one of the most prestigious and exclusive tutories in Colombo.”11 Walter de Silva married Margaret Perera, who was a Roman Catholic. As Susan’s nephew explains, the local Independent Catholic Church had to disband, due to lack of funds, and Walter decided, “with reservations,” to join the Roman Church. Family Upbringing and Education S S usan de Silva had rebellion in her family tree. Her grandfather, Stephen de Silva, was a member of a small, schismatic Catholic church that had rebelled against “the slavery of Rome” in 1888.3 He personally knew the founder of the church, Dr. P.M. Lisboa Pinto, who had emigrated from Portuguese Goa to Colombo.4 Lisboa Pinto was one of the first to call for the formation of trade unions and for including a “workers’ representative” in the Legislative Council.5 In 1893 Lisboa Pinto and his colleague, A.E. Buultjens (another religious rebel), formed the Ceylon Printers Association, the first union in Ceylon.6 Given that Stephen worked at the Government Printing Office, he may have been involved in these activities. Susan’s father, Walter C. de Silva, born in 1873, made his mark as an intellectual. He attended Royal College and in 1889, at the age of 16, he won the coveted University Scholarship.7 His classmate and friend, Gerard Wijeyekoon, who later became the usan grew up with three siblings - a younger sister, Hope Marion Gertrude, and two brothers, Stanislaus and Ladislaus. Like so many Westernized Ceylonese at that time, her parents spoke mainly English, even at home. They sent Susan to St. Bridget’s Convent, a private Catholic girls’ school in a posh area of Colombo. The nuns were “benevolent disciplinarians.” Old photos of the school from that era show pupils in crisp, white uniforms in tidy classrooms. At home, however, Susan learned about progressive politics. As I have discovered, her father had connections with some of the leading critics of British rule. He was the brother-in-law of Armand de Souza, the editor of the influential Ceylon Morning Leader who condemned the government’s draconian repression following an outbreak of communal rioting in 1915.12 As a girl, Susan frequently visited uncle Armand. In addition, her father was associated with some of the radicals who formed the Young Lanka League, the first organization to openly call for the end to British rule.13 At least two of the fourteen founders of the League (Valentine Perera and E.A.P. Wijeyeratne) were connected with Walter and the Lorenz 14 Polity Tutory.14 With family friends like these, it is easy to imagine how Susan became interested in politics. By the time she was in her twenties, Susan was rebelling against just about everything that the good nuns of St. Bridget’s had taught their girls. She adopted the radical “flapper” look that was all the rage in England and America during the Roaring ‘Twenties. She cropped her hair in the short, slicked-down “Eton cut,” wore slacks, and smoked cigarettes.15 But her thirst for self-discovery went deeper than mere fashion statements. She questioned and ultimately rejected religion. As her nephew puts it, paraphrasing the famous quote from the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, “In my view Susan’s approach was that of regarding institutional religion as a defence against the experience of God.” Marriage and Motherhood Theosophist who taught at Musaeus College and founded the first Montessori school in Ceylon.18 Impatience with Constitutional Reform Politics I n 1927 the British government deputed to Ceylon a parliamentary delegation, known as the Donoughmore Commission, to review the progress of constitutional reform. That generated a flurry of political activity on the island. Susan and George Caldera supported Goonesinha in his demand for universal suffrage and self-government. A delegation from the Women’s Franchise Union met with the commissioners and made their case for extending the vote to women. In the end, the British government decided to replace the old Legislative Council with a more representative State Council, elected on the basis of universal adult franchise. Goonesinha was satisfied with this “seven tenths of self-government.” But Susan and other radicals in the Labor Party wanted to escalate the fight for self-rule. This group included her father’s friend, Valentine Perera, who by that time had become inspired by the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. Susan, too, was beginning to show interest in revolutionary socialist ideas.19 The Youth League and Suriya Mal Movement S usan married George Caldera, who was a Proctor. They had three sons – Gamini, Singhe, and Tissa – and one daughter, Rukmani. As her nephew observes, the fact that Susan and George gave their children Sinhalese names, rather than British names, suggests that they were also national-minded. Susan suffered two traumatic losses while still a young woman. Her father died of typhoid fever, and then her daughter Rukmani died very young. Her nephew believes that those painful losses left an indelible imprint on her temperament: “Her aggressive character was in our view largely attributable to the early deaths of her father and her daughter.” Nationalist Politics I S usan and George Caldera became associated with the rising nationalist star of the ‘twenties, A.E. Goonesinha.16 He had been a founding member of the Young Lanka League and was arrested during the 1915 riots. In the ‘twenties he started organizing industrial laborers and dockworkers in Colombo and led the first militant strikes in Ceylon. Several of his close associates, including George E. de Silva and Stephen W. Dassenaike, had links to Susan’s father.17 In 1928 Goonesinha formed the Ceylon Labour Party. Though small, the Labour Party was quite radical, in the context of that era. It stood for political independence, universal suffrage, equal rights for women, and reforms to better the condition of the working class. Susan and George Caldera joined the Labour Party. George was a member of the executive committee. In the Labour Party Susan had the opportunity to work with some of the most progressive women of that era. Agnes Marion de Silva (nee Nell), the rebellious daughter of a fashionable Burgher family who married George E. de Silva, had organized the Women’s Franchise Union. Annie Eliza Preston was an English n December 1931 Susan and her husband participated in a conference of activists who decided to launch Youth Leagues throughout the island. George Caldera was elected co-secretary of the new organization. “Among the live wires in Youth League politics,” recalled a fellow Youth League member, “were Mrs. Susan Caldera, a pioneer woman politician and a confirmed matriarchist.”20 Susan and her husband worked in the South Colombo branch of the Youth League, one of the largest and most active. George was president of this branch. An activist at heart, Susan wanted to get the Youth League’s political message out to a broader audience. She found an opportunity in a very unexpected place. Every year the British establishment commemorated Armistice Day by selling poppies and donating the proceeds to World War I veterans. Valentine Perera and others had complained that Ceylonese veterans weren’t getting their fair share of the funds. In 1931 Aelian Pereira, a member of the official Poppy Day committee, and also president of the Youth Congress, decided to start a parallel committee to sell a local sunflower, the Suriya Mal, on the day before Poppy Day and donate the proceeds to Ceylonese veterans. But he had no following. The Youth League decided to provide the personnel that he needed. Susan was in her element. She went through the streets of Colombo on November 10 with her fellow volunteers and 15 Polity appealed to passersby to buy and wear the Suriya Mal as a patriotic gesture. The first campaign made quite a splash. Worried by this rival, the official Poppy Day committee came to terms with Aelian Pereira, who withdrew from his own committee. Susan and her comrades took over the organization. Doreen Young, the English principal of Ananda Balika Vidyalaya, became president of the new committee and recruited her teachers and students to the next campaign. Conversion to Revolutionary Politics Susan and her comrades “helped in organizing the strikers, spoke at mass meetings, collected funds, and distributed relief.”25 The young radicals fought bloody battles with the company’s strikebreakers at the mill gates. Selling Suriya flowers on the street was a lark compared to the rough-and-tumble of labor strikes. The Lanka Sama Samaja Party I A t that point Susan came under the influence of a new arrival on the scene – the brilliant, charismatic Trotskyistcommunist Philip Gunawardena.21 Returning home from his political apprenticeship abroad in November 1932, he joined the South Colombo Youth League and started to recruit a following.22 Since the Ceylon police kept close tabs on this notorious Red, he had to develop his group secretly. I can imagine how a young bourgeois-bohemian rebel like Susan could be attracted to something that was so taboo and outlandish. Meeting behind the scenes, this group drafted a manifesto for the next Suriya Mal campaign that had some strong anti-imperialist language. When it was presented to the Youth League, Susan’s husband George, who was president of the branch, stated that he would veto any propaganda that would bring the government of the day into contempt. No doubt he knew that such overt anti-imperialist propaganda could result in severe repression. In fact, only a few months earlier the government in India had sentenced more than two dozen Communist Party leaders to long prison terms for conspiring “to deprive the King of the sovereignty of British India.” Susan was not one to bite her tongue or defer to anyone, even her husband. When the political fight over the manifesto split the Suriya Mal organization, Susan left her husband and went with the revolutionaries.23 For a mother with young children, that act alone says a lot about her courage. First Taste of Bloody Class Struggle n 1935 the radicals in the Youth League decided that the time was opportune to form an openly socialist party. On December 18, 1935 Susan participated in the founding conference of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party in Colombo. Three days later the LSSP held its inaugural public meeting at the former Lorenz Tutory, which had become Lorenz College after Susan’s father’s death.26 In simple language, free of alien jargon, the party manifesto called for complete independence, nationalization of the means of production, distribution and exchange, and political equality regardless of race, caste, creed, or gender. In order to bring their new message of socialism to the people, the LSSP fielded four candidates for the State Council. Philip Gunawardena and N.M. Perera won. They used the State Council to broadcast their socialist politics to a wider audience. Susan was an active cadre in the new party and may have been a member of the Central Committee. As the LSSP grew, Susan played a role in training the recruits. She taught Marxism to student sympathizers at the University College in Colombo. In 1939 Susan was selected to be part of the LSSP delegation to the annual meeting of the Indian National Congress.27 After the Congress sessions ended, Susan returned home via Calcutta, where she witnessed a mammoth demonstration against the British. The Underground Period W ith the start of World War Two, the government cracked down hard on the party for its militant anti-war message. The top leaders were jailed, the printing press confiscated, its public meetings banned. Many party members got frightened and abandoned the LSSP.28 Susan remained steadfast. A s part of this group around Philip Gunawardena, she got her first taste of real class struggle in 1933. The workers at the Wellawatte Spinning Mills in Colombo were frustrated that their leader, Goonesinha, would not lead a strike to redress their grievances and turned to a well-known lawyer, H. Sri Nissanka, who also was a member of the Youth League. He referred them to Colvin R. de Silva, a newly minted lawyer who was part of Philip Gunawardena’s group.24 Seeing an opportunity to outflank Goonesinha, Philip convinced his group to jump in and form a new union to lead the workers. With the threat of more police repression hanging over their heads, Susan and her comrades reorganized the party apparatus on a clandestine basis. Her cousin, Doric de Souza, played an important role in this process.29 Younger than Susan, he had become a socialist only a few years before, during his student days in London, and upon his return in 1937 he became a lecturer in English literature at the Ceylon College. Perhaps to protect his job, he didn’t openly associate with the LSSP but did establish a covert connection with the top party leadership. And so, unknown to the police as a LSSP cadre, he was a good candidate to step into the breach after Philip Gunawardena and other senior leaders were arrested in 1940. 16 Polity Susan continued to lead the student group at the University College. They issued leaflets with blistering attacks on the “imperialist war” and painted the hammer and sickle in red on the walls of the campus.30 With the police breathing down her neck, Susan moved the student meetings to the home of a Burgher friend who was not connected to the LSSP.31 She also used the café that she owned, called the Red Lion, as a place for students to meet to discuss politics. Her nephew recalls: “The café was not only a locus for impassioned political debate but also a place frequented by soldiers for tea, cakes, and hardly any sympathy.” Defying the restrictions on labor action, Susan organized a strike of gas workers in Colombo in 1941. She used a pseudonym, “Martins,” in an effort to conceal her identity. Turmoil in the Party plausible explanation for Doric’s actions. He was a young, over-confident, under-experienced intellectual who made a mess of a very difficult situation through his own immaturity. He had no previous experience building a revolutionary party. His knowledge of Leninism was abstract, drawn mainly from books. Unlike Susan, he hadn’t been through the struggles that begat and shaped the LSSP. When Susan and Philip were facing thugs at the gates of the Wellawatte Mills in 1933, Doric was a conservative career-minded student, studying his Latin diligently, and going to church every Sunday. The two were as different as night and day. Susan was tempestuous, high-strung, driven to socialism by a deep, moral outrage at injustice done to real people in the real world around her. Doric de Souza was the epitome of the brainy Marxist intellectual, cool and efficient like a machine, converted to the cause by the awesome intellectual power of Leon Trotsky’s writings. In any case, given the threat that the party faced from police agents at that moment, Philip Gunawardena took Susan’s reports seriously. He recalled the case of that famous Czarist spy in the Bolshevik party, Roman Malinovsky, who succeeded in hoodwinking even Lenin until he was finally unmasked after the Bolsheviks seized state power and opened the police archives. In 1942, after the four LSSP leaders were liberated from jail, Philip voiced his suspicions of Doric in the party. The situation went downhill from there. An ugly, personalistic, unprincipled faction fight ensued. The party split and as a result more repression followed. If the government had wanted to disrupt the LSSP, they couldn’t have done a better job. A “Persona Non Grata” I nfuriated that the LSSP was still functioning, the government resorted to a different tactic – infiltration. We now know from declassified British intelligence reports that the police had agents inside the LSSP. In November 1940 the LSSP went into a “state of alarm” upon learning that the police had detailed knowledge of their supposedly clandestine party organization.32 And that is exactly what the police wanted - to inject fear, suspicion, and paranoia into the underground party. Susan started to suspect her cousin, Doric de Souza, the new party organizer. Why? Though he was a good organizer, Doric had his own ideas about how the LSSP should be reorganized and run. He took the position that the pre-war LSSP “was not run on Bolshevik principles and was a hotbed of bureaucratism.”33 That, of course, was a not-so-veiled attack on Susan’s hero, Philip Gunawardena, the architect of the LSSP. According to Susan, Doric de Souza “maligned Philip to the rank and file with the object of ousting him.”34 Susan, like many others who had been in the party from the very start, regarded Philip Gunawardena as their Lenin. Susan believed that Doric’s campaign to “Bolshevize” the party would split and destroy it. And isn’t that what the government wanted? But why would Doric de Souza become a government agent? Susan had a theory. Doric had been a protégé of the Ceylon University College principal, Dr. Robert Marrs, a proud defender of the British Raj. Doric went to London University on a scholarship to get his PhD but returned without completing the degree. Dr. Marrs appointed him to the faculty position anyway. Susan concluded that something was fishy. Why did Dr. Marrs sponsor Doric de Souza, who didn’t complete his degree, yet earlier block the academic career of N.M. Perera, who had a double doctorate? Looking back now, with all the benefit of hindsight, I must say that there is another, more T hough she still believed that Doric de Souza was a spy, Susan wanted to see the split healed. The rivalries between the two competing Trotskyist groups were damaging their credibility and hindering their ability to capitalize on the postwar upsurge in labor militancy and nationalist feeling. Susan went to England, apparently to seek the support of the British Trotskyists for her proposal to settle the differences between the two parties. Returning home in 1947, she reported: “We entered Parliament as an offensive force. Today we have surrendered that role to the Government. The main reason being the squabbling between our groups, which the government has capitalized within Parliament to strengthen its position. Even so there is the possibility of our climbing back if we can only close our ranks.”35 17 Polity By this time she had become something of an outcast, standing between the two parties: “I am not persona grata with any group though officially I stand with Philip.” A Political Reorientation A Tempestuous Radical S A t this point Susan’s political thinking was changing. With the onset of the Cold War in 1947-48, Susan believed that the Stalinist regime in Russia would be forced to return to the revolutionary path. She concluded that the Trotskyist movement, in Ceylon and internationally, needed to mend fences with the Communist movement and close ranks. In a letter to the leadership of the Fourth International, she wrote: “Russia has at last taken the Road to Permanent Revolution with the result that Fascism is openly and feverishly arraying itself on a world scale against her… I believe the conditions have been fulfilled for the entry of the Trotskyists into the ranks of the Parties standing with Russia.”36 usan de Silva spent more than thirty years of her life fighting for the freedom of her country and for a just society cleansed of oppression. She dared to enter politics at a time when it was strictly a “man’s world.” She courageously pursued her convictions even when it meant sacrificing her marriage. She devoted herself to building a revolutionary party and didn’t flinch even when her comrades were being arrested and jailed. Yet I think that the very passions that drove her also defeated her. She was too rebellious and impatient to be confined to any disciplined party over the long haul. As her nephew Eymard so aptly puts it, “Aunt Susan was a tempestuous radical who believed in a randomly ordered type of free choice that was not subject to any form of traditional authority or to the prevailing views of an epistemic community (including the LSSP).” Whatever her faults and errors, Susan de Silva deserves to be elevated from obscurity and honored for her personal sacrifices and courage in the fight for freedom and social justice in Sri Lanka. Four days later Susan resigned from the LSSP. She applied for membership in the Ceylon Communist Party (CP) but was refused. Perhaps the CP leaders were suspicious of a Trotskyist who had such a sudden change of heart. She was known in political circles as a follower of Philip Gunawardena. The last thing the CP wanted was an agent of Philip in their ranks. But after several years politics took an unexpected twist. In 1950 Philip split from the LSSP and formed the Viplavakari LSSP. He abandoned his Trotskyism and took up a position on the USSR and Communist movement that was very similar to Susan’s. In 1951 he entered into a tight united front with the CP. That paved the way for Susan to enter the CP in 1952. But history didn’t play out as Susan had expected. The Cold War didn’t reverse the Stalinist degeneration in the USSR. Even after the death of Stalin in 1953, and the false dawn of “de-Stalinization” under Khrushchev, Soviet tanks crushed the popular uprising in Hungary in 1956. Susan didn’t play much of a role in the CP, as far as I have been able to determine. She retired to a plantation on the Thalawathugoda Road in Talangama, a quiet rural area far from the political beehive in Colombo. Kumari Jayawardena visited her there in the ‘sixties. She described Susan as a “feisty” old lady who still blamed her cousin, Doric de Souza, for “wrecking the LSSP.” Endnotes 1 Charles Wesley Ervin, “Susan de Silva: Feminist Rebel and Pioneer Leftist,” Sunday Island, October 3, 2010. 2 Eymard de Silva Wijeyeratne, “Susan de Silva: A Feminist Rebel, But A Lovable Aunt,” Sunday Island, October 10, 2010. 3 The reasons for the break with the papacy were evidently more political than doctrinal. Since the sixteenth century, the Holy See had allowed the King of Portugal to nominate Bishops to the diocese of Latin Rite India. In 1887 Pope Leo XIII abolished this royal Portuguese patronage (“Patronado”) system. In India some dissident priests formed a “Patronado Defense Association” that tried unsuccessfully to get the old system restored. In 1888 the Association elected a Goan priest, Antonio Francisco Xavier Alvarez, to be the first bishop of the (Latin Rite) Independent Catholic Church of Ceylon, Goa and India. Peter Anson, Bishops at Large (1963), 105. 4 P.M. Lisboa Pinto (1857-1898) was a medical doctor and scholar of some repute in Goa. He was the leading layman in the Patronado Defense Association and had traveled to both Rome and Lisbon on their behalf. According to a contemporary report, “Dr. Lisboa Pinto is the most vigorous defender of the faith of this new Church.” Eugene R. Smith (ed.), The Gospel in All Lands (1892), 204. He was active in the Christian Temperance movement and published a book, Alcoholic Drinks, or notes on the medical, social, political and religious aspects of the liquor question. 5 Kumari Jayawardena, The Rise of the Labor Movement in Ceylon (1972), 86-89. 6 A.E. Buultjens (1865-1916) won the Cambridge Scholarship at St. Thomas’ College in 1883. In England he converted from Christianity to Buddhism. After his return home, he played a leading role in the Buddhist Revival movement. He founded the Young Men’s Buddhist Association and was principal of Ananda College from 1890 to 1898. 18 Polity 7 William Thomas Keble, History of St. Thomas’ College, Colombo (1937). 8 Sir Gerard Wijeyekoon, Recollections (1951), 276-77. 9 The Royal Indian Engineering College had been established in 1870 to train engineers for the rapidly expanding railway network in India and other public-works projects in the British colonies. The college was situated in a picturesque estate mansion on Cooper’s Hill, near Egham, Surrey. A. Cameron Taylor, General Sir Alex Taylor, G.C.B., R.E.: His Times, His Friends, and His Work (1913), vol. 2, 240-89. 10 Charles Ambrose Lionel Lorenz (1829-1871) became a prominent lawyer, started the progressive journal Young Ceylon, helped establish the Ceylon Railways, pioneered the development of modern local government, represented the Burgher community in the Legislative Council, and was a high-level member of the Sphinx Lodge of Masonry in Colombo. See Kumari Jayawardena, Erasure of the Euro-Asian: Recovering Early Radicalism and Feminism in South Asia (2007). For his Masonic affiliation, see Freemason’s Magazine and Masonic Mirror, vol. 21, no. 528 (14 August 1869), 135-36. 11 Jane Russell, Our George: A Biography of George Edmund de Silva (1981), 8. Walter invited other organizations, such as the Ceylon Shorthand Writers Association, to hold their meetings at the Tutory. Reported in Pitman’s Journal of Commercial Education, 66 (1907), 317. 12 Armand de Souza (1874-1921) was born in Goa, orphraned at a young age, and sent to Ceylon by his grandmother to live with his uncle, Dr. P.M. Lisboa Pinto (see footnote 4). Though he could speak almost no English at first, he attended the Royal College, married Walter de Silva’s sister, and then got a job as a railway stationmaster in a rural station where only one train stopped a day. With plenty of time on his hands, he read voraciously. He took up journalism at the Ceylon Independent, then at the Times, and eventually became editor-in-chief of the Morning Leader, which he built up into one of the leading papers of the day.In 1915 he was arrested as an instigator of the Sinhalese-Muslim rioting. He subsequently blasted the government in his book, One Hundred Days in Ceylon Under Martial Law in 1915. 13 V.K. Jayawardena, Rise of the Labor Movement in Ceylon, 226. 14 Valentine S. Perera was a barrister who wrote for the Lorenz Tutory Magazine. See Journal of the Dutch Burgher Union of Ceylon, 43:2 (October 1928), 65. Sir Edwin Aloysius Perera Wijeyeratne (1889-1968) went to work at the Lorenz Tutory after passing out of St. Joseph’s College in Colombo. He helped establish the first night school in Ceylon for adult education, became a journalist under Armand de Souza, was a founding member of the Ceylon National Congress, served in the Legislative Council, and was elected to the State Council in 1931 and appointed to the Senate in 1947. 15 One of her comrades in the LSSP later recalled in his memoirs that Susan “had the marks of a liberated woman, wearing short hair and smoking.” Regi Siriwardena, Working Underground: The LSSP in Wartime (1999), 29. 16 Alexander Ekanayake Goonesinha (1891-1967) started the Servants of Lanka Society in 1913 to promote education and Temperance. Together with Charles Edward Victor S. Corea, he launched the Young Lanka League in 1915. He was arrested during the rioting in 1915. In 1921 Goonesinha and Corea started a non-compliance campaign against the Poll Tax, in which they did manual labor on the roads rather than pay the tax. In 1922 the duo set up the Ceylon Labour Union, and Goonesinha led strikes of railway workers in 1923 and harbour and coal workers in 1927. 17 George Edmund de Silva (1879-1950) was one of the early students at the Lorenz Tutory. Walter de Silva recognized his talent, encouraged him to take the Proctor’s Preliminary Exam, and awarded him a scholarship to the Law College. He was in the liberal wing of the Ceylon National Congress. He was elected to the Kandy Municipal Council and then the State Council in 1931 and 1936. Stephen William Dassenaike (1874-1933?) was a student at Royal College a few years behind Walter de Silva. He too won a scholarship to attend the Royal Indian Engineering College at Cooper‘s Hill and, like Walter, came out at the head of the class in the first year’s examination in 1892. (Sandra Raban, Examining the World: A History of the University of Cambridge Local Examinations Syndicate (2008), 45.) He worked as an F.C.H. District Engineer in the Public Works Department and became a member of the Legislative Council. He was elected to the first State Council in 1931 as a Labour Party candidate from Colombo South. 18 Kumari Jayawardena, “The Participation of Women in the Social Reform, Political, and Labour Movements in Sri Lanka,” Praxis, 5:2 (May-August 1980), 5. 19 Kumari Jayawardena, Doreen Wickremasinghe – A Western Radical in Sri Lanka (1991), 22; reprinted in Wesley Muthiah, Selvy Thiruchandran, and Sydney Wanasinghe (eds.), Socialist Women of Sri Lanka (2006). 20 Reggie Perera, “Journey into Politics,” serialized in The Ceylon Observer, August-September 1962. R. Arthur Reginald Perera (1915-1977) attended St. John’s College in Panadura, joined the Youth League, and participated in the Suriya Mal movement. He was a founding member of the LSSP, was elected to Parliament in 1947, and served in the Senate from 1959 to 1972. 21 Don Philip Rupasinghe Gunawardena (1901-1972) is widely regarded as “the father of Marxism” in Sri Lanka. He had become a Marxist during his university days in the USA and then worked full-time for the British Communist Party for four years, until he was booted out in 1932 for supporting the views of the exiled Bolshevik, Leon Trotsky, against Stalin, who had usurped power in the USSR. For information on his formative years abroad, see Charles Wesley Ervin, Philip Gunawardena: The Making of a Revolutionary (2001) and Pilip Gunavardhana: Viplavavadiyakuge Hadagasma (2005). 22 Robert Gunawardena, “My Political Life,” Daily Mirror, November 4, 1971; also Vernon Gunasekera, Pilip: ohuge jivitaya ha desapalana satan (1960), 10. 23 Vernon H. Gunasekera (1908-1996), unpublished audiotape interview with Michael Roberts, July 7, 1966. I thank Michael Roberts, adjunct associate professor of anthropology at the University of Adelaide, for providing an audio copy of this interview.The original tapes are now deposited in the University of Adelaide Library. 24 Colvin Reginald de Silva (1907-1989) attended Royal College in Colombo and then the London University, where he earned a PhD in history. He also read law and was admitted to the bar. He was secretary of Ceylon Students’ Association in London and in 1931 he visited the USSR. 19 Polity 25 Kumari Jayawardena, “The Background to the Formation of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party,” reprinted in Al Richardson (ed.), Blows Against the Empire: Trotskyism in Ceylon (1997), 25. 26 Apparently, after Walter C. de Silva died, the Lorenz Tutory became Lorenz College. Around the beginning of the Second World War the College opened a branch in Gampaha. In his memoirs the well-known actor and dramatist, Henry Jayasena affectionately describes the Gampaha branch, where he studied, and the mother school in Maradana. 27 From the start the LSSP established fraternal relations with the Congress Socialist Party in India, a broad socialist caucus that functioned within the “big tent” of the Indian National Congress. Starting in 1936, the LSSP sent delegates to the annual sessions of the Indian National Congress. The Congress gathering in 1939 was held at Tripura. The LSSP delegation had an appointment to meet with Jawaharlal Nehru. However, Susan missed her chance. Her fellow delegate, Reggie Perera, recounted later in his memoirs, “As several of our delegates were sick with malaria, and some others were busy otherwise, it ultimately transpired that W.S. de Silva and I were the only two to keep the appointment with the great Indian leader.” Reggie Perera, “Journey into Politics,” serialized in The Ceylon Observer, August-September 1962. 28 According to Leslie Goonewardene, a senior leader of the LSSP at that time, “Most of the members and sympathizers disappeared. We couldn’t find them.” Leslie Simon Goonewardene (1909-1983), unpublished audiotape interview with Michael Roberts, April 26, 1967, deposited in the University of Adelaide Library. 29 Anthony Theodoric Armand de Souza (1914-1987) was the son of Armand de Souza. Armand married Susan’s father’s sister. A brilliant student, Doric got a first class honors degree from University College in Colombo in 1934, won a university scholarship, and enrolled in the University College in London as a PhD student in October 1935. He returned to Ceylon in 1937 before completing his degree. I thank Richard Temple, Archivist at the Senate House Library, University of London, for providing the details of Doric de Souza’s attendance at the university. 30 Wesley S. Muthiah and Sydney Wanasinghe, Britain, World War 2 and the Samasamajists (1996), 145-50 and 169. 31 Amaradasa Fernando, “Elmer de Haan-Eccentric, godless, musical genius,” Sunday Times, June 20, 2004. 32 Muthiah and Wanasinghe, Britain, World War 2 and the Samasamajists, 11, 190-91. 33 For a detailed account of the faction fight in the LSSP, see Charles Wesley Ervin, Tomorrow is Ours: The Trotskyist Movement in India and Ceylon, 1935-48 (2006), chapter6. 34 Susan de Silva, The Wrecking of the LSSP (1959), 2-3. 35 Susan de Silva, letter to E. (Ted) Grant, February 12, 1948, reprinted in Wrecking of the LSSP, 22. 36 Susan de Silva, letter to Secretary of the International Secretariat of the Fourth International, June 20, 1948, reprinted in Wrecking of the LSSP, 24. Charles Wesley Ervin is a historian of the Left Movement in South Asia. He is the author of Tomorrow is Ours: The Trotskyist Movement in India and Ceylon, 1935-48 Available Soon at SSA / Suriya Bookshop No. 12, Sulaiman Terrace Colombo 05. Tel : 2501339, 2504623, 2586400 20 Polity MAPPING THE DEBATE ON KASHMIR Rohini Hensman T he bloodshed in Kashmir beginning in June this year gave rise to a heated debate in India concerning the causes of and possible solutions to the conflict. Unfortunately, the usual positions publicized by the media leave little hope of any resolution. The Indian ultra-nationalists, most vociferously represented by the Sangh Parivar but present even among sections who claim to be more liberal, are undoubtedly a major part of the problem. Their dogmatic assertion that Kashmir is an integral part of India – as though India’s national boundaries are god-given and any questioning of them is blasphemy – goes with a justification of horrific atrocities committed against Kashmiris by the Indian security forces. Their allegation of sedition against Arundhati Roy for questioning this dogma, and hysterical outburst against the government-appointed interlocutors for suggesting that any solution to the problem requires the involvement of the government of Pakistan, make it clear that they themselves have no solution to offer short of war between two nuclear-armed countries. Pretending that Kashmir is not disputed territory must appear to most observers as a typical instance of burying one’s head in the sand to avoid seeing what is obvious to everyone else; breathing fire and brimstone at anyone who acknowledges the reality is obviously a non-starter so far as resolving the problem is concerned. But more disurbingly, advocating coercion to stamp out protest in Kashmir and a clampdown on freedom of expression to prevent discussion of the issue constitutes an assault on democracy. To destroy India’s integrity as a democracy in order to preserve its territorial integrity is, hopefully, not a ‘solution’ that most people would find morally or politically acceptable. The Pakistani nationalist stance is the mirror opposite of the Indian nationalist one. Thus Kashmiri nationalists of Pakistan Administered Kashmir ‘were kept away from the process of elections by a stipulation of Act 74, which states: “No one can contest elections of any kind in AK without taking oath of allegiance to Kashmir’s accession to Pakistan”… Because of this clause, nationalists of Azad Kashmir were kept away from the elections and Pakistan has built a strong pro-Pakistan structure which aims to minimize the influence of nationalists in all walks of life’ (Choudhry 2010). As in the case of the Indian nationalists, there appears to be little concern for the democratic rights of Kashmiris among Pakistani nationalists, and no solution in sight besides war between the two nuclear-armed countries. The Left in India disagrees with both these positions, but does not have a unified position itself. This became clear in the course of the debate that followed a meeting, in Delhi on 21 October 2010 organized by the Committee for the Release of Political Prisoners, entitled ‘Azadi – The Only Way’ (Minutes 2010). The keynote speaker representing the Kashmiri people at this meeting was Syed Ali Shah Geelani. The premise of the view expressed in this title is unconditional support for the right of nations to self-determination: ‘The root of the Kashmir conflict is not oppression but identity. Kashmiris don’t see themselves as Indian’ (Vij 2010). Thus ‘nation’ is defined in terms of ‘identity’, presumably encompassing a common language, territory, economy, culture and history, as in Stalin’s definition. According to this view, the people of Kashmir constitute a nation, and are therefore entitled to self-determination, defined as the right to form their own nation-state. The desire and right to fight for a separate nation-state are given in their feeling that they are different from Indians, and this would be so even if they were not oppressed by the Indian state and enjoyed all democratic rights (which, of course, is not the case at present). The other position on the Left rejects identity as a basis for self-determination and sees democracy as the only justifiable basis for it. Human identity is immensely complex. There is a universal human identity, which we share with all other humans. We have common biological characteristics, which mean that when pricked, we bleed, when tortured, we suffer pain, when starved or shot in the heart, we die. But we also share in common the experience of coming into the world as helpless and completely dependent infants, an experience we carry within us whether we like it or not. Then we have particular characteristics – sex, ethnicity, language, religion, nationality, and so on – and finally the plethora of relationships (with family, friends, colleagues, neighbours and others), experiences and actions that make each one of us different from everyone else. Identity politics picks up one of these particular characteristics – usually language, ethnicity, religion or 21 Polity nationality – and makes it the basis for political identity and action. In the process, significant differences within the identity group (between workers and capitalists or socialists and fascists, for example) are obliterated. At the same time, what we share with people outside the group – most importantly, our humanity – is also negated. Thus identity politics both crushes differences within the group and dehumanises those outside it, making persecution of them seem justifiable. When identity based on religion, ethnicity or language is combined with nationalism, it makes a particularly toxic brew, because claims on territory are involved, and ‘the other’ is defined not only as all those outside the territory, but also as those within who do not conform to the prescribed identity. The LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) struggle for a separate Tamil state in Sri Lanka illustrates these points clearly. Only rabid Sinhala nationalists would claim that Tamils have not been grievously oppressed in Sri Lanka. But was the LTTE’s solution – armed struggle for national self-determination in the North-East of Sri Lanka, where Tamils were the majority but by no means the only community – an acceptable one? Right from the beginning, it involved massacres and ethnic cleansing of Sinhalese civilians from the territory claimed by the LTTE, massacres and ethnic cleansing of Muslims, and the torture and murder of thousands of Tamils who opposed this barbaric vision. Refugees and internally displaced people whom I interviewed included Tamil women whose Sinhalese husbands had been hacked to death by the LTTE, and Muslims who said their Tamil neighbours, with whom they had lived like brothers and sisters, had wept and pleaded with the LTTE not to evict them, but to no avail. These people were not oppressing the Tamils – quite the contrary. They had to be eliminated because they did not fit into the requisite ‘Tamil identity’. Nor did Rajani Thiranagama, a Tamil doctor, lecturer and founding member of University Teachers for Human Rights (Jaffna), who was gunned down by the LTTE as she cycled home from work, nor a militant of the Eeelam People’s Revolutionary Liberation Front (the most Left-wing of the militant groups), who witnessed a roomful of his comrades slaughtered by the LTTE, and survived only because they thought he too was dead. (I have woven some of these stories into my novel, Playing Lions and Tigers, but the reality is far more gruesome than anything I could bring myself to describe.) Only a sleight of hand could portray these actions as ‘the violence of the oppressed’; it should be abundantly clear that these are cases where the LTTE is the oppressor. When there are no barriers to interaction, people from different communities spontaneously form bonds of solidarity, friendship and love. This is why ethnic and religious nationalism are necessarily so violent, because they have to tear these bonds apart. There were Sinhalese liberals who supported the LTTE in the belief that it was fighting against Sinhala nationalism, and doctrinaire Leninists who supported their right to self-determination. But this support merely allowed the LTTE to continue on its destructive and self-destructive path, strengthening the Sinhala nationalist backlash to a point where it could destroy the LTTE with massive civilian casualties. Tamil democracy activists, on the other hand, decided they had to oppose both the Sri Lankan state and the LTTE because both were doing equal damage to their community: a difficult and dangerous option, but the only one that allowed them to adhere to the goal of bringing about greater respect for human rights and democracy. Geelani’s politics too has all the elements of ethno-religious nationalism. In Kashmir: Nava-e Hurriyat he ‘claims that Muslims are a community/nation (qaum) wholly separate from the Hindus. He equates India with Hindus, overlooking the fact that India’s Muslim population outnumbers that of Pakistan. He projects Muslims (as he does Hindus) as a monolithic, homogeneous community, defined by a singular interpretation of religion, and bereft of cultural, ethnic and other divisions. He depicts Muslims as radically different from Hindus, and as allegedly having nothing at all in common with them’ (Sikand 2010, 126). This is an extreme right-wing ideology, which, as Geelani himself recognizes, shares the ‘two-nation’ theory with the Hindu Right. How could anyone on the Left provide a platform to someone with such a reactionary agenda (a mirror image of Hindu Rashtra), or describe him as ‘the tallest, most respected leader of the Kashmiri independence struggle’(Vij 2010)? Why should he be considered a leader of the Kashmiri independence struggle at all, much less the ‘tallest and most respected’, when he colludes with one of the states (Pakistan) that is occupying Kashmir? What makes this assessment even more inexplicable is that just across the Line of Control (LoC), the main enemy of Kashmiri nationalists is the Pakistani state (cf. Choudhry 2010a)! Indeed, in the statements of this section of the Indian Left, there is not even an acknowledgement that there are Kashmiris on the other side of the LoC fighting for independence from Pakistan, much less any attempt to extend solidarity to them. This abject failure of internationalism allows them to associate the slogan of ‘azadi’ and the description of ‘most respected leader of the Kashmiri independence struggle’ with someone 22 Polity who, from the standpoint of Kashmiris across the LoC, stands for their continued enslavement (Choudhry 2010b). Supporters of such positions reply that Geelani would probably shift over to support for an independent Kashmir under popular pressure, and this is conceivable. What is not conceivable, however, is that he would abandon his Islamist vision for Kashmir, which is shared by many others, as the slogans chanted in demonstrations suggest. But he is only one current out of many, the answer goes: ‘Let a Constituent assembly decide what the people want!’ (Vij 2010). In the first place, this is dangerously naïve, not least because theocrats do not believe in constituent assemblies. When the Left in Iran (the largest in the Middle East) jumped on Khomeini’s bandwagon, they no doubt had the same illusion. But Khomeini used a broad-based popular movement against the Shah to come to power, and then proceeded to decimate the Left. As Maziar Behrooz, the author of Rebels with a Cause: The Failure of the Left in Iran, points out, the loss of women’s rights was the most palpable consequence of the Islamic Revolution (The Platypus Review 2010). A similar outcome in Kashmir cannot be ruled out if a section of the Left in India insists on jumping on the Islamist bandwagon. And the consequences for women and dissenters would be similar, judging from the activities of Asiya Andrabi and her Dukhteran-e-Millat, who have thrown acid and paint in the faces of women to force them to wear the veil, and who warned Abdul Ghani Lone of dire consequences for his remarks against foreign Islamist militants and urged militants to take action against him (Suri 2002). When Lone was murdered (Bhagat 2002) on the anniversary of the assassination of Mirwaiz Muhammad Farooq by Pakistan-backed militants, it is not surprising that his son Sajjad blamed the ISI, Pakistan's Inter Services Intelligence (Jha 2002) and Geelani was kept away from his house (Chandran 2002). In the second place, isn’t it a rather Orwellian interpretation of ‘self-determination’ to make it mean that a Kashmiri leader who genuinely stands for an independent Kashmir is gunned down simply for demanding that foreign militants stop interfering in their struggle? Wouldn’t this terrorize into keeping quiet,others who object to foreign militants allowing those who are allied with these militants to rule the roost? What does this portend for the future? Isn’t there a serious danger of ending up with an alien culture (e.g. forcibly veiled women) being imposed on Kashmiris, and an intolerant, authoritarian state which stamps out all vestiges of democracy? By contrast with the first tendency on the Left, which provides unconditional support to any group claiming to fight for the right to national self-determination, the second group provides support that is highly conditional and selective. Conditional on the premise that a separate state is demanded by the vast majority of the population in the territory claimed, and the promise that it will result in less oppression and bloodshed, more freedom, equality and democracy. And selective in the sense that even where the vast majority want to be free of foreign occupation, as in Afghanistan, reactionary, authoritarian groups like the Taliban would not be supported. ‘Self-determination’ should mean the right of people to determine their own lives, and the Taliban most emphatically does not stand for that. There are groups in Afghanistan like the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan, which have chosen the courageous option of fighting against both the US/Nato occupation and the Taliban, and it is such groups that should receive support. Support for self-determination would be extended not on the basis of upholding ‘identity’, an utterly reactionary ideology which holds that people who are ‘different’ cannot live together in the same country, nor, presumably, in the same family, but on the basis of ending oppression. Clearly, Kashmiris have hitherto not had the space to discuss and negotiate among themselves what kind of a state they want in order to project a unified agenda. So what can Indians do if they wish to oppose the hideous oppression occurring there? There is a more elementary meaning of ‘azadi’ that comes across in numerous fact-finding reports and the better newspaper reports from Kashmir: freedom from oppression by the Indian state. One atrocity after another without any justice in sight is a recipe for barbarism (see, for example, Bhatia et al. 2010). The heart-rending appeal to the people of India by the father of one of the boys killed by Indian security forces recently – ‘Please feel our pain’ (Subramanian 2010) – should lead to a broad-based campaign demanding repeal of legislation (like the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, the Jammu and Kashmir Public Safety Act and the Disturbed Areas Act) that allows the security forces to commit human rights abuses with impunity, and punishment for security force personnel who have commited such crimes, including those with command responsibility. The bizarre argument that such punishment will ‘demoralise’ the security forces needs to be demolished. Surely security forces that routinely violate international humanitarian law have already lost much of their legitimacy? Wouldn’t punishing the criminals who engage in such activities help to rebuild their morale? 23 Polity Drastic reduction of the presence of security forces would also help to reduce the occurrence of such incidents. The next step would be to campaign for the demilitarisation of Kashmir on both sides of the LoC. Demanding demilitarisation on the Indian side alone is neither realistic nor even desirable, if it facilitates the activities of foreign militants like those who killed Lone. Such a campaign would require working with socialists in Pakistan-Administered Kashmir and Pakistan itself, as demanded by the principle of internationalism. If it is successful, and the military and militants on both sides of the LoC back off, the people of Kashmir would have the space and opportunity to discuss, debate and negotiate among themselves to see if they can agree on a vision of Kashmir that is accepted by the overwhelming majority. If they agree on a separate state incorporating the principles of equality and democracy, then they should certainly obtain support from the Left and the rest of the world to attain it. There would still be a price to pay: being cut off from India on one side and Pakistan on the other by international borders requiring visas before they could be crossed. But this too could be solved if there is simultaneous movement towards a South Asian union (on the model of the European Union and similar unions in Latin America) with open borders. Indeed, such a development would make an independent Kashmir more likely to succeed. To sum up: The dialogue on Kashmir between the Indian and Pakistani governments goes round and round like an old record stuck in a groove, with the same old arguments repeated by both sides. The section of the Indian Left demanding the unconditional right of the Kashmiri ‘nation’ to self-determination adds little clarity to the debate, because it remains narrowly India-centric (although antiIndia, not pro), and fails even to acknowledge that Kashmir will not be ‘free’ if India withdraws from it, because part of Kashmir is occupied by Pakistan. Moreover, unconditional support means that extreme Islamist elements are also seen as worthy of support, ignoring the fact that they stand for a Kashmir as oppressive as the present dispensation. By contrast, a more internationalist section of the Left sees that the imbroglio in Kashmir is part of the tragic legacy of Partition, along with the persecution of Muslims in India, Hindus in Pakistan, and Christians and Sikhs in both countries, and cannot be resolved unless that whole legacy is addressed. It rejects ‘identity’ as the basis for state-formation, and insists that a viable Kashmiri state must convince its minorities in advance that they will enjoy security, equality and democratic rights; sacrificing democracy to ‘self-determination’ is surely a contradiction in terms. A South Asian union with open borders, based on equality and democracy both within and between its constituent states, would create the possibility of an independent Kashmir that is not cut off from either India or Pakistan. References Bhagat, Rasheeda, 2002, ‘Abdul Ghani Lone: A moderate, rational voice silenced,’ The Hindu Business Line, 23 May, http://www.hinduonnet.com/businessline/2002/05/23/ stories/2002052300080900.htm Bhatia, Bela, Vrinda Grover, Sukumar Murlidharan and Ravi Hemadri, 2010, ‘Report No.1: Attack and killing on Pattan hospital premises,’ http://kafila.org/2010/11/15/report-1-pattanhospital-attack-kashmir/ Chandran, D. Suba, 2002, ‘Assassination of Abdul Ghani Lone What Lies Beneath,’ 29 May, http://www.ipcs.org/article/ terrorism-in-jammu-kashmir/assassination-of-abdul-ghani-lonewhat-lies-beneath-760.html Choudhry, Shabir, 2010a, ‘Jammu and Kashmir National Democratic Alliance – a step in right direction,’ 15 November, http://drshabirchoudhry.blogspot.com/2010/11/jammu-andkashmir-national-democratic.html Choudhry, Shabir, 2010b, ‘“I have faced Pakistani oppression and intimidation”: Shafqat Inquilabi’, 27 November, http:// drshabirchoudhry.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-have-faced-pakistanioppression-and.html Jha, Prem Shankar, 2002, ‘With Us, Or Not At All,’ Outlook, 3 June, http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?215873 Minutes of the seminar on Azadi: The Only Way, Kafila, 27 October 2010, http://kafila.org/2010/10/27/minutes-of-theseminar-on-azadi-the-only-way/ Sikand, Yoginder, 2010, ‘Jihad, Islam and Kashmir: Syed Ali Shah Geelani’s Political project,’ Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLV No. 40, 2 October, pp.125-134 http://beta.epw.in/static_ media/PDF/archives_pdf/2010/10/SA100210_Jihad,_Islam_ Yoginder_Sikand.pdf 24 Polity Subramanian, Nirupama, 2010, ‘Feel our pain, say Kashmiris,’ The Hindu, 24 November, http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/oped/article907795.ece Suri, Kavita, 2002, ‘Painted Veil,’ The Statesman, 17 July, http://www.jammu-kashmir.com/archives/archives2002/ kashmir20020717d.html The Platypus Review, 2010, ’30 Years of the Islamic Revolution in Iran,’ Supplement to Issue No.20, February, http://platypus1917. org/2010/02/18/30-years-of-the-islamic-revolution-in-iran/#_ open Vij, Shivam, 2010, ‘Dilemmas of “Right of Nations to Military Occupation”: A Response to Rohini Hensman,’ Kafila, 17 November, http://kafila.org/2010/11/17/dilemmas-ofright-of-nations-to-military-occupation-response-to-rohinihensman/#more-5572 Rohini Hensman is the author of Workers, Unions and Global Capitalism: Lessons from India (forthcoming) Available at SSA / Suriya Bookshop 25 Polity BOOK REVIEW ‘Framing Sri Lanka’ Neloufer de Mel ‘F raming Sri Lanka’: Review of The Nethra Review, ed. Chelva Kanaganayakam, Colombo, ICES, 2010 Every surface has a frame, and all frames shape how we look at and interpret what they contain. The newly launched Nethra Review has a surface frame consisting of an extremely arresting cover. Its striking illustration by Shamanthi Rajasingham is of a phantasmagoric view of a city and its environment. The scene is apocalyptic. A skull, a hand buried in the sand, twisted torsos and preying fish form the underbelly of a city with high rise buildings and bridges. It figuratively evokes an idea about the barbarity on which progress is built (a la Walter Benjamin, Theses on the Philosophy of History, VII); or the ecological cost of development. It can even be a fantasy of the global on the far side, from the dystopic local on the near-side. However you choose to interpret this picture, it certainly draws attention to duality, and to crisis. Seated beside the illustration are the titles of selected essays. Whether on postwar Sri Lanka, the Tamil Buddhist, the relationship of history to fiction, the direction of English studies or global governance, these titles speak to a contemporary moment in Sri Lanka. As Sri Lankan readers we know this, even before we turn to the pages of the Nethra Review, because of what we recognize in the cover-frame. Recognition is produced by what we are already familiar with, by the norms we have come to accept, by what we have experienced elsewhere. In this case, the recognition produced by this cover comes from what we know of our postcolonial history, of the mistakes made in our political and educational policies, of our thirty-year war, and the fierce debates currently taking place about our post-war future. It also comes from what we know of ICES’ founding vision and its attention to ethnic identity and minority rights, history, nationalism, culture, and state reform. The cover of the Nethra Review thereby becomes a frame of reference. It enables recognition of the type of articles it contains. But importantly, it also draws attention to how the Review itself – re-launched, fresh, emerging – embodies a desire to be a dynamic forum on contemporary Sri Lanka. In keeping with this vision is the featured essay by Dayan Jayatilleka titled ‘Postwar Sri Lanka: Prospects for a Durable, Democratic Peace.’ Jayatilleka offers a structural analysis to state-social relations in Sri Lanka along three axes. The first is a north-south axis encompassing the relationship of the north and south of the country. Second is the rich-poor axis pointing to the country’s uneven development and distribution of wealth. Third is the country-world axis marking Sri Lanka’s external relations. All are interlinked. According to Jayatilleka these cross-cutting axes are supported by a fundamental contradiction between, on the one hand, a multi-ethnic base or substructure, and on the other, a mono-ethnic superstructure as currently evinced by the Sri Lankan state. This contradiction has remained unresolved throughout our colonial and postcolonial history, although not unaltered. It is characterized by both continuity and change, ‘the ratio of which’, according to Jayatilleka, ‘is difficult to determine.’ Taking the reader through various possible post-war power arrangements, the author argues from a position he has often held elsewhere in the print media: that both Sinhala and Tamil nationalism must be contained in order to build a cohesive Sri Lanka, and that the grounds of this containment must necessarily incorporate some accommodation of these nationalisms. For the Tamil – sufficiently devolved power and resources is the answer. For the Sinhala, it is the safeguard of a unitary state, protected by the presence, in the former war zones, of a professional, rather than ethno-religious military. The historic opportunity to transition from war to a just peace must, according to Jayatilleka, incorporate such a Realist policy mix. If Jayatilleka’s essay deals with macro-level arrangements involving a re-drawing of the political contract itself, Nishan de Mel’s review of Amartya Sen’s latest book The Idea of Justice highlights the micro political to show how its insights provide a framework for realizing justice in the everyday. Sen offers us a history of ideas on justice from western, middle-eastern, African, eastern, and intra-cultural thought which account for the plurality of views on it. But this plurality does not take 26 Polity away from the fact that in every society there is a pursuit of justice even though we may go about it in different ways. How is this quest for justice operationalized? Two significant approaches are noted. The first sees justice primarily as ‘arrangement focused’ through institutional building. The drafting and amendment of constitutions, passing legislature, strengthening law enforcement agencies etc. would be within this view. The second pays attention to how justice actually operates in the everyday. Taken together they stand for Law and Life; and both are important even though they can produce irreconcilable contradictions. Taking the reader through Sen’s discussion of social choice theory with its practical, accommodative, relational approach, de Mel highlights how it is possible to agree, for instance, that people have a right to be protected from violence and brutality even if it is hard to get agreement on what the totality of human rights principles should be. Similarly, while agreement on what the full set of freedoms to be enjoyed by every citizen is difficult to muster, it is easier (as happened with the IDP camps in the north) to agree that restrictions on mobility should be lifted so that the bulk of civilians could return home. The social choice route to justice encompasses, then, a comparative assessment: a focus on ‘small justices’ that can have a bigger impact than grander visions precisely because they are realizable and of benefit to the daily lives of citizens. Self-reflexivity and democracy take place here because even though majority rule prevails, it does so by taking into account minority views and needs. The small justices stand up to public reasoning precisely by not being over-burdened by the task of achieving perfect justice. What is particularly compelling about de Mel’s review is that he is able to contextualize Sen’s main arguments through concrete examples from Sri Lanka’ tragic, recent political history. In this way he makes abstract ideas on justice accessible to the average reader, and theory applicable in the everyday. Of particular importance is that, by offering examples from Sri Lanka to illustrate Sen’s main arguments, de Mel makes the book which is not on Sri Lanka per se, utterly relevant to our search for justice and accountability. Two other books directly related to Sri Lankan Tamil ethnic identity under review are Sunil Ariyaratne’s Demala Bauddhaya (The Tamil Buddhist), and R. Cheran’s edited volume on Tamil nationalism. Demala Bauddhaya, reviewed by Liyanage Amarakeerthi, sets out to record Tamil contribution to Buddhist culture, and in turn, Buddhism’s enrichment of both classical and modern Tamil and Dravidian literary cultures. Amarakeerthi is alert to the importance of Ariyaratne’s project even if the book is, in his opinion, a summary or initial exploration of Buddhist-Sinhala-Tamil relations. In a country where exclusionary hard line ethno-nationalisms have fuelled both the Sinhala and Tamil polity to violence, a project such as this, which insists on intercultural relations becoming part of the popular record, cannot be underestimated. In a parallel move, R. Cheran’s edited volume Pathways of Dissent: Tamil Nationalism in Sri Lanka urges us, as Nira Wickramasinghe points out in her review, to understand Tamil nationalism as a multifaceted cultural, social and political movement. Wickramasinghe notes at the outset that in the light of a current security-studies led focus on terrorism which tends to ignore historical and cultural contexts, it is important to tarry a little longer with nationalism as an analytical category. Pathways of Dissent offers, for instance, an important discussion for understanding whether a) Tamil nationalism can be viewed in a continuum from the days of Arumugam Navalar to the LTTE and b) how the LTTE brand of Tamil nationalism became hegemonic. The authors in the volume variously focus on how ‘Tamilness’ is a way of positioning, of Tamil genealogy in the archeological record, the role of Tamil nationalist literature, Tamil militancy and political economy. Wickramasinghe draws attention to an absence in the book (apart from Daniel Bass’s chapter on Up-country Tamils) to other Tamil voices such as those of Tamil speaking Muslims and Veddas. This is an erasure that reinforces ‘Tamilness’ as belonging largely to Tamils of the north. But she concludes that the book remains an important contribution to a more nuanced understanding of Sri Lankan Tamil nationalism that does not reduce it to merely a reaction to Sinhala nationalism. The feature essay and the reviews noted so far form one group of writing directly engaged with Sri Lankan politics and ethno-nationalisms. The reviews by Ramani Gunatilaka and Sarath Rajapatirana of Economic Democracy through Propoor Growth edited by Ponna Vignaraja, Susil Sirivardana and Akmal Hussain, and Trade Services in South Asia: Opportunities and Risks of Liberalization edited by Saman Kelegama respectively, are welcome additions to this group. In and of themselves the reviews provide a timely discussion/ critique of developmental methodologies to rural poverty alleviation on the one hand, and on the other, unpacks the reasons behind the anxiety over trade liberalization. Kakoli Ray’s review of Strobe Talbott’s The Great Experiment: The Story of Ancient Empires, Modern State and the Quest for a Global Nation and David Harvey’s Cosmopolitanism and the Geographies of Freedom also belongs to this group. As with Nishan de Mel’s contextualizing of Amartya Sen’s The Idea of Justice for Sri Lankan readers, Ray asks questions, from the perspectives on globalization that these books raise, of the ground conditions in Sri Lanka. Yet another group of reviews published in the Nethra Review come from English departments to highlight creative writing in English and works of literary criticism. Prof. Ashley Halpé 27 Polity reviews the late Tissa Abeysekera’s collection of three stories entitled In My Kingdom of the Sun and the Holy Peak to illustrate, amongst Abeysekera’s other achievements of craft, the author’s versatile use of three epochs of Sri Lanka’s history. They encompass the last days of the Kandyan kingdom, the decade before Independence, and the contemporary. But as Prof. Halpé insightfully notes, each has a ‘distinctly mythic dimension’ evoked through the use of symbol, mystery, the supernatural, and dreams; and the author is at the height of his powers precisely when the mythic, the epic, and history come together. Walter Perera turns to the ‘Return of the Von Blosses’ in his review of Carl Muller’s latest novel Maudiegirl and the von Bloss Kitchen not only to take into account Muller’s narrative achievement in depicting this ‘eccentric, multifaceted Burgher family’ but also to raise questions about the role of humour in the depiction of violence from rape to pedophilia to domestic assault. This is a question that has dogged the reception of Muller’s previous books. The nature of what this laughter elicits – sexism, racism, homophobia - still remains valid even if, in this latest book, Perera also marks a more reflective, redemptive turn that enables a more favourable representation of this particular, fictional Sri Lankan Burgher family. John Stifler’s review of Ameena Hussein’s novel The Moon in the Water points to a couple of its weaknesses but revels far more in its multiple strengths to recommend it as an insightful, creative window into a Sri Lankan Muslim household, and the country’s recent violent history. Lakmali Jayasinghe sets up a comparative framework to assess the novels The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai and Monsoons and Potholes by Manuka Wijesinghe, paying attention to how they both chart the effects of post-colonial insurrections with unease, if not disparagement. Wilfred Jayasuriya’s review of Counterrealism and Indo-Anglian Fiction by Chelva Kanaganayakam highlights its analysis of work by Rajiva Wijesinha and Shyam Selvadurai, and adds Ediriweera Sarachchandra and Jagath Kumarasinghe to the list of authors using the magic realist, or counter-realist form. With its arsenal of excess, montage, allegory, the collapsing of past and present, and fantasy and reality, this is a representational form often used to portray dystopic social and political landscapes. In his editorial remarks in the Nethra Review, Chelva Kanaganayakam sounds somewhat apologetic about this concentration on literature, and goes on to assure readers that this is coincidental rather than a deliberate emphasis. But he need not worry. As Maithree Wickramasinghe’s review of Arbiters of a National Imaginary: Essays on Sri Lanka – Festschrift for Professor Ashley Halpé also edited by Kanaganayakam highlights, the current multi and interdisciplinarity of English studies (acknowledged by Kanaganayakam himself in his preface to the festschrift) makes it a field from which a variety of perspectives can emerge. This is because, as Wickramasinghe notes in her review, the plural focus and disciplinary shifts that have occurred within English studies enable its practitioners to pay attention to aesthetics, form, textuality, culture and politics, while adopting diverse standpoints encompassing the postcolonial to feminist, traditional lit crit. to poststructuralist. Increasingly critical practice from within English departments have made the connections between literary narrative and social voice - even as social scientists and anthropologists have moved towards literature. I am reminded of how, in her book Life and Words (2006), anthropologist Veena Das repeatedly turns to Stanley Cavell’s reading of Shakespeare to understand crowd behaviour, or a character’s obdurate refusal to recognize his Other, as relevant and useful to her own ethnographic study of rumour and violence. Literary critical practice today reflects these disciplinary shifts, and has the capacity to complement other analytical approaches grounded in other disciplines. I therefore see a productive complementarity between the literary reviews and those from economics or political science. In the introduction to the Nethra Review Kanaganayakam also refers to a frame. He wishes this frame - or content structure for the journal - to not be ‘arbitrary and inflexible’ but attentive to readers’ responses and evolving in content though always relevant to Sri Lanka. In other words the journal should be popular and accessible to a variety of informed readers. In this inaugural issue Kanaganayakam and his team have achieved this. It is extremely readable – not least because of its very good artwork, page layout, cartoons, and meticulous proof reading. (Its one small lapse is the omission of the date of publication of the books under review). It is also accessible because the book reviews, which form the bulk of the issue, are interspersed with a variety of other types of writing. For instance there is a wonderfully crafted short story by Frances Bulathsinghala on the friendship of a Sinhala soldier and a Tamil child in the war zone. Punyakante Wijenaike, whose observations of intimate family and gender relations we have come to expect of her tales, has a short story in this issue entitled ‘House on the Hill’ which describes the reaction of two parents as they return from their daughter’s new, posher bridal home. Also included is a mixed genre piece by Mick Moore titled ‘The Schoolmaster and Somasiri’ which draws on the forms of both short story and anthropological narrative to great effect to provide a vignette of Sri Lankan village life that is anything but simple. An excerpt from a larger study by Kanchuka Dharmasiri of Gamini Haththotuwegama’s street theatre announces an important analytical and archival project on this form of theatre. Also included are wonderfully evocative translations. Ranjini Obeysekere continues her 28 Polity important work of bringing Sinhala language creative writing to English readers through pithy, powerful translations of three of Liyanage Amarakeerthi’s Ekamath Eka Pitarataka poems. Excerpts of Shoba Shakthi’s Tamil language novel Mm with its magic-realist vignettes that link Jaffna and the Tamil diaspora, and the violence of incest to that of war are brought to us as raw, shocking and exhilarating experiences by Sumathy. Both Sinhala and Tamil originals are provided for the bi-lingual reader. The Nethra Review thereby offers readers a smorgasbord of writing, and keeps to its manifesto of bringing to English readers both in Sri Lanka and abroad, imaginative and scholarly Sinhala and Tamil language work. In her diary of 18th February 1922, Virginia Woolf wrote: ‘When I read reviews I crush the columns together to get at one or two sentences. Is it a good book or bad? And then I discount these two sentences according to what I know of the book and of the reviewer. But when I write a review I write every sentence as if it were going to be tried before three Chief Justices.’ As Woolf’s statement implies, book reviews place both author and reviewer on trial. The reputations of both can be made or destroyed. Christopher Hampton’s remark ‘Asking a working writer what he thinks of a critic is like asking a lamppost what it thinks of a dog’ has generally summed up the more cynical side of author-critic relations. But what I want to draw attention to is the meticulousness with which Woolf sets about the task of reviewing. This sense of responsibility can be found in all the book reviews published in the Nethra Review. They are informative in how they highlight the author’s main arguments and themes, and in their ability to locate the book under review in relation to other similar work. They are engaged in how they relate the books to Sri Lankan preoccupations. The criticisms they offer are constructive rather than trivializing or personal. The quality of its reviews is one of the best achievements of this re-launched Nethra Review. The sustainability of the journal in the long run will depend on how it can continuously cast its net to capture such quality writing from both Sri Lanka and abroad. I certainly wish the net reaches far and wide, and the journal a very long life. Neloufer de Mel is the Professor of English, University of Colombo Available at SSA / Suriya Bookshop. Sinhala, English and Tamil Books and pamphlets on Women & the Tsunami 29 Polity IN MEMORIAM R.A.L.H. Gunawardana – an appreciation of his life and scholarly contributions Gananath Obeyesekere was saddened to hear the news of the death on 16 November of Leslie Gunawardana, someone whom I knew from our Peradeniya days and with whom I have maintained a long friendship even when I, unlike Leslie, lived and worked in the US for much of the time. He was ill for a long period and was undergoing daily dialysis and all of us knew, as indeed he did, that he would not last very long. Even though his death was expected, it is always sad to lose a friend who till the very end of his days continued his scholarly work unabated. Also unabated was his passionate commitment for social justice and the ills of ethnic discrimination that he critiqued in his writing. Although he was Vice-Chancellor of the University of Peradeniya and for sometime a minister for science and technology, he was not a public speaker offering platitudes but someone who expressed his social and political concerns through his scholarly writing. That writing, an enduring monument to his memory, is extensive in length and wide in scope and contains over a hundred scholarly articles and books both in English and in Sinhala. They deal with Sri Lanka’s ancient and medieval past and the relevance of that past towards understanding the present. Let me present a few of the themes that animate his writing. His first major book entitled Robe and Plough: Monasticism and Economic Interest in Early Medieval Sri Lanka was published in 1979 and contained the seeds of much of his later work. Given Gunawardana’s Marxist orientation it was natural that he would relate Buddhist monasticism to the social and economic order although he eschewed any kind of naïve economic determinism. The book concerned, among other things, an important paradox: Buddhist monasticism, as much of Buddhist theory and practice, had to adapt itself to the socio-political world in which it found itself. Thus Robe and Plough is not only a brilliant descriptive account of medieval I monasticism but also one which dealt with phenomena antipathetic to the spirit of ancient Buddhism. It seems that in medieval times Sri Lankan monastic landlordism was well established largely owing to the largesse of monarchs who, like their Indian counterparts in respect of Brahmins, had given extensive properties for the maintenance of the Sangha. But this entailed many seeming contradictions, such that slaves became an essential component of monasticism, however benign that “slavery” was in comparison to European forms that developed later. Slaves were however not uniquely monastic; they existed among the wealthy of that time and later. Thus Leslie’s work deals with the intersection of the monastic and the political order alongside with everyday lay life. The one cannot be separated from the other; each takes its meaning and significance in their interrelationships. From the point of view of Sri Lankan historical scholarship this work was a landmark event in critical historiography that until then was mostly concerned with descriptive accounts of the devolution of regimes (kings and governors, one might say) such that economic, political and social relations were for the most part relegated into separate “sections” of historical writing. It is as if lived existence can be confined to the barracks. Leslie’s concern with medieval and ancient Sri Lanka led him almost inevitably to discourse on the nation’s great achievement, the complex hydraulic networks (the “tank” system as it is foolishly known), that brought about vast areas of arable land into the cultivation of rice and other crops. He is an astute critic of those who have suggested that this feature of civilization led to a form of “oriental despotism.” His early research also prompted him to write on some key technical features of the hydraulic engineering, focusing on the complex technology associated with sluice gates. These 30 Polity interests and his later work on early science and technology in South Asia have a technical quality about them that might not interest the present reading public. I hope that Leslie’s papers will be posthumously republished in book form so that both the Sri Lankan and international scholarly public will have ready access to them and reflect on them with the attention they deserve. The multiple themes in Leslie’s writing inevitably led to the recognition that no island is an island unto itself but is involved in a wider world. Hence he is concerned with another theme, namely, the implications of ocean routes and international relations of the time on the local situation. Many historians have of course recognized this interplay of the “global” with the local, and the other way around, but Leslie’s work has recognized its importance for understanding our ancient and medieval history. There is a kind of “trans-nationhood” to the historiography of the nation and Gunawardana illustrates it in many ways, as for example his work on the linkage between Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia, especially Thailand and further his explorations into Tibet in a 1990 essay on Sri Lankan nuns’ biographies found in Tibet. Let me now mention another example that might interest Sri Lankans. We know that Magha of Kalinga (1215-1236), with Tamil and Kerala mercenaries, led one of the most devastating invasions in Sri Lanka resulting in the conquest of the Rajarata and the destruction of Buddhist places of worship, graphically described in the Cûlavansa and the near-contemporary Pûjâvaliya. There is no doubt that these texts speak of “Tamil” invaders in the most horrifying terms. Yet, as Leslie and his friend and collaborator Amaradasa Liyanagamage point out, it is also the case that when this invasion occurred, monks fled to South India and there in the Chola country they sought refuge. This is no isolated pattern either. We know that the resistance to Magha was led by Vijayabahu III and he, the chronicles tell us, brought back these monks and in his reign and in the reign of his son, the great Parakramabahu II, the lapsed higher ordination was resumed with the aid of Tamil monks. And one of the founding monks of a notable monastery of the Dambadeniya period was a Tamil. It should also be remembered that several kings right down to the later Kotte and Kandyan times were knowledgeable in Tamil. And some of the kings of the Gampola and Kotte kingdoms had Tamil or Kerala ancestries, the most obvious examples being Bhuvanekabahu VI (Sapumal Kumaraya) and his brother Vira Parakramabahu VIII (Ambulugala). In other words scholars like Gunawardana and Liyanagamage point out that Sinhala and Tamil are not simple oppositional categories but instead their interplay must be grasped to properly appreciate our past and its continuing presence. In his complex presentation of the past Leslie demonstrates how present day nationalists simplify the past to create a view of a sanitized Buddhist culture and reify the oppositional dualism of Sinhala versus Tamil, Buddhists versus others. Two of his papers are especially illuminating in this regard, these being, “The people of the Lion” and “Historiography in a time of ethnic conflict: construction of the past in contemporary Sri Lanka.” There have been two responses to this dimension of his work. One is a scholarly reaction that is quite understandable because no one can be certain about what actually occurred in history and one must be satisfied with “reconstructing” history from the bits and pieces of evidence that we possess. History is always a matter of interpretation and interpretation permits considerable leeway for disagreement. There is and should be scope for scholarly debate. The other reaction is hostile vituperation, mostly in intemperate language that nowadays appears in every part of the world and, even as I write this, in the United States. In Sri Lanka it is by people who claim to be Sinhala Buddhist nationalists ignoring the norm of “right speech” that the Buddha himself promulgated. Leslie is right to ignore the latter persons who seem to have forgotten that “nationalism” was a term invented in Europe, even though there are “family resemblances” to nationalism in other polities. I do not know whether Leslie believed as I do, that fanatics should be left to choke in their own venom. After his stint as Vice-Chancellor, Leslie moved into the political arena and was briefly minister of Science and Technology in Chandrika Kumaratunga’s government during the period 2000-2001, not as an elected representative but as an appointed one. I doubt his appointment was based on his knowledge of ancient irrigation technology! Rather it was his long time association with the Communist Party of Sri Lanka, a partner in the Kumaratunga coalition government. I do not agree with Leslie’s politics. Yet one of the interesting features of our political life is that it was possible for someone like me to have friends with political opinions I do not share, and some of which I openly condemn, as long as these political views do not entail intolerance or condone ethnic violence and discrimination or shackle our freedoms. We live in a small but complex culture and many have friends and relations on every side of the political spectrum. Friendship that cannot straddle differences is no friendship at all. For many in Sri Lanka continuing friendship and kin ties can involve considerable juggling, not always with happy results. With Leslie I have had no problem because his Marxist political beliefs were in fine tune with what I would call his “Buddhist humanism.” I have known other Marxist leaders who, at least in their later careers, combined their Marxism with reasonable, sometimes 31 Polity even disconcertingly respectable, bourgeois or capitalist virtues! I believe that Leslie never lost his compassion for the poor of our nation. I remember vividly his visiting our hilltop home in Kandy with his wife Viru a few months before his death. It was evening and the two of us were in our balcony overlooking the Eastern hills, the beautiful Dumbara valley below and the distant Knuckles range. And then as night fell there emerged another kind of beauty, the flickering lights from thousands and thousands of village homes, most of which one could not see during the day, hidden as they are by thick foliage. Leslie said, “a few years ago all would be in darkness but now, see, how many of our poor folk have electricity.” This is of course true. His was not a political statement defending any particular regime but recognition that some progress has indeed occurred for many of the poor and that is something one can be proud about. One can also be proud of the fact that Leslie was a “village boy” who entered the University from Tholangomuva Central School, itself a product of our Free Education system, a system that successive governments undermined and is now beginning to be dismantled. From Tholangomuva to the University of Ceylon where he obtained a First Class Honours degree in History and reaped many prizes and awards; and then on to London where he obtained his PhD in 1965, studying under the distinguished Dutch scholar and teacher, J.G. de Casparis. Perhaps it was de Casparis who stimulated his interest in Southeast Asia and prompted his desire to learn Dutch and Chinese. Unfortunately, his official position as Vice-Chancellor at Peradeniya and his political views alienated him from many of his colleagues, perhaps for wrong reasons, perhaps for right ones. But surely his colleagues ought to have appreciated his enduring contributions to Sri Lankan studies? Leslie’s sense of alienation combined with his impending illness pushed him into a life of a recluse, such that very few except close friends visited him. A scholar can easily become a recluse and in Leslie’s case his hermitage was his study, lined everywhere with books and from where he continued to write whenever his illness gave him some respite. My reminiscence of Leslie in his twilight years gazing at the evening lights has triggered another memory, one of many, of our long gone greener years. During the course of my fieldwork near Maha Oya I had visited one of the most fabulous, and little-known archeological sites in Sri Lanka, Rajagala, a huge, forested mountain, extremely difficult to reach, then a refuge for elephants, another of the many species fast disappearing from our Island. I suggested to Leslie, sometime in the late 70s that we should visit this site. My wife and I and Leslie ascended the mountain and there before us were acres and acres of scattered archeological remains. Leslie was in top form discoursing at length on them that we did not notice time go by and then realized that dusk had fallen and the three of us had to go back. We missed the footpath on the first round and the darkness was closing in on us. We were getting anxious, climbing trees to try to glimpse a footpath, and fortunately hit upon the right path almost by accident and got back to safe ground. Years later that place became a refuge for the LTTE and I have wondered: what became of those priceless remains of our past? Did terrorism spare the site? Or more somberly, has another brand of cultural terrorists searching for treasure despoiled it? It is with a different form of sadness I note, as I am sure Leslie did, that treasure-hunting has become a way of life for many and politicians, even an occasional monk, have become complicit in it. Something beside the long war has trampled on our values; or perhaps the effects of that long war. It is no longer Magha of Kalinga who despoils our religious sites but our own people. Everywhere in the area I am engaged in current fieldwork, there is evidence of despoliation, as when stone pillars are taken to build houses for politicians. In a cave that held old “primitive” paintings dynamiters have been at work, searching for non-existing treasure. And so is it with other sites. If one cannot take pride in the remains of the past, what can possibly remain of our future? For me Leslie was one of the truly creative historians of Sri Lanka and I feel different kind of sadness to think there are very few of his caliber remaining. As with the remains of the past being despoiled, so is it with the remains of learning in our universities. Leslie hoped, as many of us do, that scholarship will in the future bourgeon once again although some of us won’t be there to witness it as we join Leslie in the silent land. His was a long illness and during that time his wife Dr.Viru Gunawardena was with him, his companion and friend and succor. She is the one who administered the injections he constantly needed and who supervised the daily dialysis performed at home. In her quiet and self-effacing way Viru possessed an understated and quiet heroism. Our love and sympathy go out to her and to their son Asela who lives in Seattle and was with his father during his last days. What else could one say? Impermanent are all conditioned things and separation from loved ones are the inevitable part of our species existence. Gananath Obeyesekere is Emeritus Professor of Anthropology 32 Polity