Connect with us

Features

Aitken Spence breaks into hotels

Published

on

by Charitha. P. de Silva

At about this time (1972) Mrs B’s government introduced tax incentives to encourage the building of hotels. I had already indicated to the directors and executives that our expansion would be confined to activities that gave employment and earned foreign exchange. This was based on my belief that all governments regardless of their political hue would support such activities. I had also made it clear that we would not go into a particularly lucrative source of income, construction, and other government tenders. This was because I was well aware that tenders involved bribery.

One thing I had repeatedly stressed to my staff was that we had to be scrupulously honest in all our dealings, even if it meant loss of business opportunities. This attitude became particularly relevant when the head of Printing, Stanley Wickramaratne, told us that we were losing business because it was customary in the printing trade that kickbacks had to be given to the purchasing departments of our clients. He claimed that we would not be able to survive if we did not do what every other Printer was doing.

I was totally against it because I realized that giving kickbacks would inevitably lead to the corruption of our own employees as kickbacks were cash transactions and receipts were never given for them; and in the course of time some or all of the kickbacks would find their way into the pockets of those of our employees that had to make the payments. It is because of principles such as this that Aitken Spence soon gained a reputation for honesty that was to be a source of protection for me throughout my career.

It also clearly established that Honesty was a guiding principle in our company. It is my view after a career of over 50 years in the private sector that the integrity of a company is determined by the integrity of the top man. If the top man is bent the whole organization will gradually become corrupt.

Michael (Mack), who was a man full of ideas, came up with the proposal that we should build a seaside hotel. Even though we had no experience in this area we studied the feasibility of diversifying in this direction. The tax incentives given by the government made it a very attractive proposition. When we decided to go ahead with it, Michael came up with the idea that we should build our first hotel on his land in Uswetakeiyawa. Browns already had a hotel in that area, so that the proposition seemed reasonable.

However, I was aware that water was not readily available there. In fact, the Rasaratnams (Susheela’s cousins) were selling water on a regular basis in bowsers from a well they had on their property in Hendala. I insisted that we get reports on the availability of water before we embarked on the project. I also wrote a cautionary memorandum on the pros and cons of a hotel project, pointing out that some factors outside our control such as an outbreak of disease could keep tourists away. At that stage nobody anticipated the disastrous effects of terrorism that later affected tourism for many years from 1983 onwards.

On the grounds that lack of water was an insurmountable drawback we decided that Hendala was not where we should site our first hotel. Michael would have been bitterly disappointed but should have realized that there was a serious conflict of interest in promoting the use of his own land. It was significant (and unfortunate) that his close friend Norman (Gunawardene) supported his proposal despite its drawbacks. Fortunately, the others went along with me.

I instructed (Ratna) Sivaratnam who was Michael’s lieutenant in the hotel project to scour the Southern beaches up to 50 miles from Colombo looking for suitable sites. Within a few weeks he came back with about four possible locations from Wadduwa down to Beruwela. All the directors piled into two cars and drove down one Saturday to examine all the sites. When we got to Beruwala, the tide was out and the beach looked gorgeous. We picked on that site and at Michael’s urging chose Geoffrey Bawa to be the architect. I suggested that the name of the hotel should be Neptune (Roman God of the Sea) to which all agreed.

We built Neptune over a period of three years starting from 1974. We built it in stages, first the central block, then the one on the right and finally that on the left. This was in order not to put too great a strain on our cash flow. The first two blocks had been two storied but when it came to the third, Bawa decided to make it three stories. However, when I visited it in its early stages I could not see it, lacking visual imagination. I sent for him, sat him opposite me and told him with some concern that I could not see signs of his brilliance.

Being very much a layman I protested to him saying that it would look odd, being asymmetric. He smiled gently and told me not to worry, and assured me that nobody would notice it because you could not look at both blocks together! He was absolutely right. Bawa’s brilliance was easily discernible. One feature of the design was the swimming pool was right alongside the dining area. He had originally designed a separate kiddy’s pool some distance away from the main pool. I prevailed on him to design the main pool so that kids could swim in shallow water under the eyes of their parents.

He did so with a maximum depth of four feet. The four-foot depth suited me too (I could never swim in deep water). It was a great success. When it came to furnishing the suite at the corner of the right wing, I was so happy with the project that I told Bawa to do whatever he wanted. He was delighted to be given a free hand and went to town putting in a four-poster bed and antique furniture. It was later my favourite room even though I resisted the temptation to take advantage of the tradition in many hotels that the Chairman had the best room reserved for himself.

The whole project, our first venture into hotels was a total success. We made profits from day one,

more or less. Our German tour operators were delighted with it and wanted us to build another seaside hotel. We first had to find another site. Once again we piled into two cars and visited the three or four sites that Sivaratnam had identified. When we got as far as Ahungalla we found a wide beach of golden sand. There was no doubt about its beauty. However, when it came to purchasing the land we were faced with a great difficulty. The land had to be purchased in small blocks and the title was what was called ‘Village Title”, in other words no real title.

The entire fifteen acres that we wanted were purchased over a number of years, and we signed about 150 deeds! This eventually created a problem when it came to the valuation of the land. Aitken Spence had bought the land after painful negotiations with a large number of individuals. As was to be expected we had to pay premium prices for the last few blocks that we purchased.

For the Ahungalla project we floated a separate company, Ahungalla Hotels Ltd. and we transferred the land to that company. The project was being financed by the National Development Bank whose Chairman was my cousin, C.A. Coorey. (Chanda Coorey was a brilliant [First in Chemistry] former Civil Servant who had been the Secretary to the Treasury and a director of the Asian Development Bank in his time. He and the legendary Baku Mahadeva had vied with each other for first place in class throughout their school careers at Royal College.)

According to the agreement with the NDB the price at which the land would be transferred by Aitken Spence to Ahugalla Hotels Ltd. was to be based on a valuation done by the best-known Valuer at that time. This was all a part of our agreement with the NDB. When his valuation was eventually given to the NDB Chairman, Chanda Coorey, he refused to accept it. What had happened was that the General Manager of the NDB, V.K. Wickremesinghe had advised him that the price was too high. VKW was not a Valuer, and I can only surmise that he was advised by his brother S.K. Wickremesinghe who was the Chairman of Chemical Industries Co. Ltd. and Chemanex. S.K. was buying land further down South for a hotel project and must have known something about land prices in those regions. However, he probably bought the land for his project in one transaction with one seller, which was vastly different to what we were compelled to do with over 150 sellers over a number of years with the price escalating with each purchase.

Be that as it may, here was I confronted by a refusal on the part of the NDB to honour their agreement with us. I tried to speak on the telephone to Chanda, with whom I was on very good terms, but he was not prepared to discuss the matter. I thereupon wrote a very strong letter to the Chairman (Chanda) with open copies to the other directors, who included strong men like Dr H.N.S. Karunatilleke, Governor of the Central Bank. I complained that the NDB that was a Development Bank was, in the quest for greater profits, behaving in a way that not even a commercial bank would stoop to. Chanda had to eventually increase the price paid for the land though he did not accept the exact figure given by the Valuer, whose name I cannot recall.

I remember being amused when Chanda, on a tour of Triton (son of Neptune) during its construction, remarked that the corridors designed by Bawa were wider than they needed to be. Chanda was as unimaginative as I was when confronted with Bawa’s brilliance (and apparent extravagance). The Triton turned out to be an architectural tour de force. It was a truly beautiful bit of work, and I was very proud of it. One of its beautiful features was the view of the pool and the sea that you saw, as one sheet of water, when you stepped down from your car in the porch.

None of us dared to question Bawa when it came to matters of design. He was a genius and we all knew it. However, I had occasion to question one of his concepts. One day Michael Mack (who was in charge of Hotels and Tourism) came to me and told me that Geoffrey was going to construct a bronze statue of Triton on the edge of the large swimming pool. It was to be a centaur, half horse, half man. I knew that Triton was not half horse but half fish. I told him to tell that to Geoffrey. He came back to me and told me that Geoffrey had said that according to his encyclopedia it was half horse.

I was not prepared to look foolish for all posterity, and told him to bring me the encyclopedia. That was the last I heard about the centaur, but Goeffrey’s brilliance can be gauged by what he replaced it with. He placed a genuine padda boat on the edge of the pool, and how appropriate it was! The bar alongside the pool was given the same padda boat theme.

While I was very proud of both Neptune and Triton, I did not have the usual ‘Soft Opening’ for either. The reason was simple. We could have only a limited number of invitees, and for every person I invited I would probably make ten enemies – those who were not invited. What I did was to invite those whom I wanted to invite, for weekends with their children included. I think that made us more friends and fewer enemies.

On one occasion Andrew Joseph who was with the UN suggested that I should invite the Secretary-General, Dr Kurt Waldheim, down to Neptune. I did so, and it was a tremendous success. Waldheim was a charming man and so was his wife. Susheela was her serene, composed self and would have made a great impression on Kurt. Andrew was totally delighted with the arrangements. His own standing with Kurt would no doubt have had a boost, though he was such an accomplished person that he did not need it. Susheela and I had a great regard for him, and visited him in different parts of the world, such as Djakarta and New York, while he went steadily up the UN tree. He was one of the most versatile men I have known with a great sense of humour that could set a party alight (as he did on one occasion at our home)



Continue Reading
Advertisement
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Features

Forest cover loss threatens rare freshwater fish in Sinharaja streams

Published

on

Washbasin

When discussions turn to Sri Lanka’s freshwater fish diversity and the urgent need to conserve it, attention is often focused on rivers, streams, reservoirs and water quality.

Yet scientists are increasingly finding that what happens on the land surrounding these waterways can be just as important as what happens in the water itself.

A recent study led by researcher Janamina Bandara of the Wildlife Conservation Society, Galle, together with researchers Sudath Nanayakkara and Sahan Randeniya, highlights how changes in forest cover caused by human activities can significantly influence freshwater fish populations in the hill streams surrounding the Sinharaja rainforest.

Their research sheds light on a relatively understudied aspect of tropical freshwater ecosystems—how alterations to vegetation cover, particularly through commercial cultivation such as tea and cardamom plantations, affect fish communities inhabiting headwater streams.

Hidden Riches of Tropical Streams

Forest plant saplings

Sri Lanka’s freshwater ecosystems are globally recognised for their remarkable biodiversity and high levels of endemism. However, despite their ecological significance, many ecological processes operating within these habitats remain poorly understood.

“Freshwater ecosystems in the tropics harbour extraordinary biodiversity, but many of the ecological relationships within these systems are still not fully documented,” researcher Janamina Bandara told The Island.

The study focused on sub-montane streams in the Sinharaja landscape, examining how varying levels of forest cover influence freshwater fish assemblages.

Researchers investigated whether fish communities differed between streams flowing through relatively undisturbed forests and those surrounded by modified vegetation resulting from agricultural activities.

Spotlight on a Critically Endangered Species

Leaf litter bay / Restoration activities

Particular attention was given to the critically endangered Rakwana loach (Schistura madhavai), a highly restricted endemic fish species first described from the Suriyakanda-Rakwana region.

Commonly referred to as a hill-stream loach, the species inhabits clear, fast-flowing streams and is considered highly sensitive to environmental disturbances.

According to Bandara, while broad community-level analyses did not reveal dramatic differences across all fish populations, species-specific responses painted a very different picture.

“Our findings show that Schistura madhavai exhibits a clear preference for streams flowing through intact forest habitats,” he explained. “The species becomes less common in areas where surrounding vegetation has been altered by human activities.”

Why Forests Matter to Fish

Forests bordering streams play multiple ecological roles. They regulate water temperature by providing shade, contribute organic matter that supports aquatic food webs, stabilise stream banks and help maintain water quality.

When these forests are removed or replaced with plantation crops, the resulting environmental changes can cascade through freshwater ecosystems.

Bandara noted that altered forest cover can influence water chemistry, microclimatic conditions, stream-bed composition and the availability of food resources.

“As riparian vegetation changes, a series of environmental conditions within the stream also change. Sensitive species such as Schistura madhavai appear particularly vulnerable to these shifts and may gradually disappear from modified habitats,” he said.

The research suggests that even subtle changes in habitat structure can have disproportionate impacts on species with narrow ecological requirements.

The Importance of Looking Beyond Numbers

Schistura madhavai

One of the most intriguing findings of the study is that ecosystem degradation may not always be apparent when scientists assess entire fish communities collectively.

In some instances, environmental variables appeared to have little effect on overall fish abundance or diversity. However, when individual species were examined separately, clear patterns emerged.

For example, variations in the amount of detritus—organic matter that accumulates on stream beds and serves as a vital food resource—did not significantly affect the overall fish assemblage. Yet for certain species, including habitat specialists, such changes proved critically important.

“This highlights a key conservation challenge,” Bandara said. “If we only look at total fish numbers or community-wide patterns, we may overlook serious declines occurring among environmentally sensitive species.”

Indicator Species as Ecological Sentinels

The findings underscore the importance of using so-called “indicator species” in environmental monitoring programmes.

Indicator species are organisms whose presence, absence or abundance reflects the health of an ecosystem. Because they respond rapidly to environmental change, they can provide early warnings of ecological degradation.

The Rakwana loach appears to fit this role exceptionally well.

“Species with narrow habitat requirements often act as ecological sentinels,” Bandara observed. “Monitoring them can provide a much clearer picture of ecosystem health than relying solely on broad biodiversity assessments.”

For conservation practitioners, this means that protecting sensitive endemic species may also help safeguard entire freshwater ecosystems.

Restoring Streamside Forests

Perhaps the study’s most important conservation message concerns the restoration of degraded riparian forests—the vegetation growing alongside streams and rivers.

Researchers argue that restoring these streamside habitats should be a priority in freshwater biodiversity conservation efforts.

Healthy riparian vegetation provides shade, reduces erosion, filters pollutants, enhances habitat complexity and supports the intricate ecological interactions upon which aquatic life depends.

“The restoration of degraded riparian forests is likely to be one of the most effective conservation measures for protecting freshwater biodiversity,” Bandara emphasised.

Such efforts could prove particularly valuable in landscapes where agricultural expansion has fragmented natural habitats.

Awareness sessions

A Broader Lesson for Conservation

The study offers a timely reminder that freshwater conservation cannot be achieved by focusing exclusively on water bodies themselves. The surrounding landscape matters immensely.

From the mist-laden streams flowing down the Sinharaja foothills to the countless rivulets nourishing Sri Lanka’s river systems, the fate of freshwater biodiversity is intimately linked to the health of adjacent forests.

As conservationists grapple with accelerating habitat loss and climate-related pressures, the research demonstrates that protecting and restoring forest cover may be just as important as safeguarding the streams themselves.

In the case of the elusive Rakwana loach, the message is clear: save the forest, and you may save the fish.

For Sri Lanka’s unique freshwater biodiversity, that lesson could not be more important.

By Ifham Nizam

Continue Reading

Features

Turning Promises into Justice

Published

on

File photo of lawyers protesting against the Prevention of Terrorism Act in Colombo

Sri Lankans have reason to take satisfaction in their country’s latest international achievement. Sri Lanka has climbed 14 places in the 2026 Global Peace Index to rank 67 in the world out of 163 countries that were assessed. At a time when global peacefulness is reported to be at its lowest level since the inception of the Index, and when more countries are experiencing deterioration than improvement, Sri Lanka’s progress stands out. The ranking reflects the country’s recovery from nearly three decades of war, its efforts to strengthen political stability and public security, and its resilience in overcoming the economic and political crises of recent years. The Global Peace Index assesses the strength of institutions, societal safety and security, and the capacity of societies to manage conflict peacefully.

The challenge is to consolidate the gains that have been made and address those unresolved issues that continue to cast a shadow over the country’s future. It is in this context that two recent announcements by the government assume particular significance. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath has announced that the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), one of the most controversial laws in the country, will be repealed and replaced within two months. A report prepared by a committee appointed to make recommendations has already been handed over to him. According to the minister, the new legislation, to be known as the State Prevention of Terrorism Act, incorporates recommendations from civil society and is intended to comply with international standards on counter terrorism.

At the same time, Justice and National Integration Minister Harshana Nanayakkara has reaffirmed the government’s commitment to uncovering the truth about missing persons. During a visit to the Chemmani mass grave excavation site in Jaffna, he stated that the excavations should be completed expeditiously so that justice can be done and assured that the necessary resources have been allocated for the task. The excavations are taking place under judicial supervision with the participation of forensic experts, archaeologists, lawyers and representatives of the Office on Missing Persons. These commitments made by the government address two of the most contentious issues that have troubled Sri Lanka for decades. They also suggest that the government believes the country is now in a position to deal with difficult questions from its past rather than postpone them indefinitely.

After Breakthroughs

The timing of the pledge to repeal the PTA is particularly noteworthy. For many years successive governments promised to replace the law but failed to do so. Sri Lanka undertook to repeal it in 2017 as part of its commitments linked to retaining GSP Plus trade concessions by the European Union. Yet despite repeated assurances the law remained in force. The question therefore arises as to why the government now appears determined to act. One possible explanation is that the Easter Sunday investigations have reached a decisive stage. The investigation into the bombings that killed more than 260 people in 2019 appears to have made significant breakthroughs. If these investigations continue along their present course, it is possible that accountability will extend beyond those who directly carried out the attacks to those who may have facilitated, enabled or been part of a wider criminal conspiracy.

There is broad agreement within society that those who masterminded the dastardly Easter bombing must be held accountable and that the victims deserve the truth and justice. However, it is important that the process by which responsibility is determined is seen by the public to be fair, lawful and impartial. If those accused are convicted following a transparent judicial process that respects due process and the rule of law, the outcome is far more likely to gain acceptance across society. This is where the repeal of the PTA becomes important. A transition from a law associated with prolonged detention and exceptional powers to one that is more consistent with human rights standards would strengthen rather than weaken the legitimacy of the investigations. Accountability obtained through a process that is visibly fair will be more durable and less vulnerable to allegations of political motivation or selective justice.

The Chemmani excavations may also provide an example of how such credibility can be built. The process is taking place under judicial supervision and in full public view with the participation of independent experts. Whatever conclusions emerge, and follow up action is decided on, the process itself should command respect because it is transparent and accountable. The same principles can be applied to the Easter Sunday investigations. Public confidence is strengthened when investigations are conducted openly, when legal safeguards are respected and when the rights of both victims and accused persons are protected. The significance of these investigations may extend beyond the tragedy itself. There is likely to be an overlap between those who are eventually found responsible for the Easter Sunday conspiracy and elements of the state apparatus that exercised power during the final stages of the war.

Setting Precedent

For many years Sri Lanka has struggled to address allegations of wartime abuses. The issue has remained politically sensitive because it touches upon the conduct of those who were regarded by many as wartime heroes. Yet if the Easter Sunday investigations establish that senior officials can be investigated and held accountable when evidence warrants it, an important precedent will have been set. Once the deck is cleared through the Easter Sunday investigations and the judicial process that follows, it may become less difficult to address allegations relating to wartime abuses, including those connected to sites such as Chemmani where evidence is now being painstakingly uncovered. This would also strengthen Sri Lanka’s position internationally.

Since the end of the war in 2009, the country has remained under varying degrees of scrutiny by the United Nations Human Rights Council. In October 2025, the Council renewed the mandate of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights to continue collecting and preserving evidence relating to past violations. The next review of Sri Lanka is due in September this year. The government now has an opportunity to demonstrate that Sri Lanka is capable of addressing difficult issues through its own institutions and according to its own democratic values. The commitments to repeal the PTA and to pursue investigations into missing persons can be seen in that light. Those who were victimized query as to what happened to their loved ones and to the information they know full well they entrusted to the government authorities and to the commissions of inquiry that were appointed. These are opportunities to show that accountability and national ownership can go hand in hand.

Reconciliation requires the difficult task of remembering truthfully. Too often Sri Lanka has sought stability by postponing difficult questions. Yet unresolved grievances do not disappear. They persist across generations and continue to shape political attitudes and communal relationships. Sri Lanka’s rise in the Global Peace Index is an achievement worth celebrating. But the true measure of peace is not only the absence of conflict. It is the presence of justice, trust and confidence in public institutions. The government’s commitments on PTA repeal, the Easter Sunday investigations and the search for truth regarding the disappeared suggest an awareness that old approaches have run their course. The government has an opportunity to break with the patterns of the past. The test now lies in implementation.

by Jehan Perera

Continue Reading

Features

The burden, and also strength, of the critical scholar in the Humanities

Published

on

The biggest part of the challenge of a critical scholar in the humanities is having to engage critically with the very realities that define her existence as a social being. She cannot even begin to comment on the focus of her study without creating shock waves that would hit her own self in some form. One could argue that the scholars in the field of the humanities are part of what is being studied in one way or another. Critical scholarship in those fields entails destabilising the ground beneath their own feet.

An essential part of scholarly inquiry is being able to objectify what is being studied and examine it closely but at a distance, that, too, in a manner that scholar’s personal biases do not affect the judgement. Any failure to comply with this requirement immediately brands the study as unscientific. To try to understand this using an example situation, I would assume that a scientist who experiments with sodium and chlorine as chemical elements have the privilege of entering the experiment without any personal and emotional ties to either of the elements, placing one element in contact with the other without having to raise questions about her own existence, and observing and recording the outcome of the experiment without having to simultaneously examine what sort of implications the outcome has had for her as a person. The findings of the experiment may certainly advance her/him in the domain of science, but it is unlikely that the outcome of the study would result in any transformation within her as a social being.

The same privilege is not available for the (critical) scholars in the humanities. What chemical elements are for the scientist, the different social, political, cultural, gender, ethnic, racial, and religious identities are for those in the humanities. What the controlled, and also largely predictable, laboratory environment is for the scientist, the uncontrolled, even erratic, society is for those in the humanities. What the scientific experiments where the composition and behaviour of the individual chemical elements are explored is for the scientist, a close examination of phenomena and topics that cut across the categories of the social, the political, the cultural, and the religious is for those in the humanities.

The relatively clear differentiation or separation that is there between the scientist’s personal space and the laboratory setting where she conducts her research is not there in the case of her counterpart in the humanities. The latter does not have a separate laboratory setting that she can step into from her personal space, as the social space, which is her site of research, has her personal space already embedded in it. The freedom that the scientist has to cut herself off from what shapes her existence as a social and political being, as she enters her laboratory, is not available for her counterpart in the humanities, for the simple reason that the social and the political, which define her life outside her research, is also at the core of what they engage with in their research. Even in a setting where the latter locks herself up in a room and cuts herself off from the rest of society, the social and the political continue to define both her perspective and the object of study. Even the most effective scientist (but may not be the ideal scientist) has the option of taking her life, defined by the social, the political, the cultural and the religious, for granted, as her success is measured purely on the basis of her scholarly output; however, even the most ineffective scholar in the humanities would have to acknowledge the nexus between her personal life and her scholarly life, explicitly or implicitly, and her engagement with the chosen object of study will entail some sort of an engagement with her existence.

To use an example from the field of language studies which my work is primarily in, New Varieties of English, like what is called Sri Lankan English, is a topic that I try to engage with in both my teaching and research. Approached from a critical point of view, Sri Lankan English as a New Variety of English is more a political category than a linguistic one. The claims that you make may be based on linguistic evidence, but the conceptualisation of a separate form of English as Sri Lankan English even on the basis of objective linguistic evidence is primarily a political claim. The creation of such a category invariably results in a reconfiguration of the linguistic terrain of the country. Every claim that is made in favour of Sri Lankan English as a category results in a certain destablilisation of Sinhala and English, which are my first language and second language respectively, and the tense relations between which two languages have shaped my identity in a fundamental way. It is not only the two languages that get shaken; the broader ethnic identities that are associated with the two languages also undergo transformation, and this transformation certainly has an impact on who/what I am.

Even when I find the case for Sri Lankan English to be convincing, I feel compelled to word the arguments carefully. This feeling of compulsion to word the arguments carefully is certainly in recognition of the need to make academically-sound arguments; however, in addition to that, it has also to do with my position outside the social class which has traditionally been seen as having proprietary rights over the language. In that setting, I am less of an academic with an objective mindset than of a strategist who is enmeshed in the ethnic and class relations that define the topic of Sri Lankan English. At the same time, in a context where one’s knowledge of English is a primary determiner of her success in society and what is predominantly valued is the so-called proper forms of English, I have had to ask myself if any claims, including the most convincing, academically-sound ones, in the direction of legitimising Sri Lankan English should not be with caution.

I have also had to reconcile between two seemingly contradictory positions involved in making a case for Sri Lankan English, especially in the context of an English Honours programme, that, too, at a leading university in the country. On the one hand, making a case for Sri Lankan English entails encouraging deviation from the established norm/s of the language; on the other hand, considering the nature of the programme, the need to require the students to make that case using a normative form of English that would be recognised internationally could not be overlooked. At one level, this seeming contradiction could easily be dismissed as hypocrisy, but a closer and more serious reading of the situation would see in it a certain “maneuvering” and “negotiating” that the scholars in the discipline of English Studies stationed in peripheral contexts like ours are constrained to undertake in their engagement with the topic at hand. Although the arguments that get made have the appearance of truth, a close analysis of those arguments would indicate a certain identity politics that is being played. This identity politics has a direct bearing on the identity of the scholar who engages with the topic.

Accordingly, to make a claim in the humanities from a critical point of view is also to question in some form what defines one’s own identity, and this may not be the most comfortable undertaking for many of us in the field. This explains, at least to a certain extent, why some scholarly engagements with history results in mere glorifications of the mainstream historical narratives; why some scholarly engagements with literature and language results in a mere celebration of the mainstream literary traditions and hegemonic languages; how some scholarly engagements with the idea of culture directly subscribe to the position that culture should always be preserved and celebrated. Such approaches leave the status-quo largely untouched, and therefore the amount of unsettling that the scholars have to deal with is minimal. How much value that they are in a position to add to the existing scholarship, of course, is a question.

Any act of critical scholarship in the field of the humanities entails the scholar having to challenge in some form what defines her personal existence. This may not be the most comfortable move to make, but that is the only way the scholar could try to make a contribution of value to the field. It is important that this dilemma that the critical scholars in the humanities have to go through is recognised for what it is.

(Nandaka Maduranga Kalugampitiya is attached to the Department of English, University of Peradeniya.)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

by Nandaka Maduranga
Kalugampitiya

Continue Reading

Trending