On the eve of war victory anniversary
By Shamindra Ferdinando
Sri Lanka brought the war to a successful conclusion on the morning of May 19, 12 years ago. The nearly three-year-long combined security forces campaign ended on the banks of the Nanthikadal lagoon with the elimination of Velupillai Prabhakaran, the undisputed leader of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE).
The then President Mahinda Rajapaksa gave resolute leadership until the armed forces eradicated the LTTE. The President disregarded intense Western pressure to halt the Vanni offensive, east of the Kandy-Jaffna A 9 road. Western powers made a determined bid to throw a lifeline to the LTTE, in order to save the LTTE-TNA (Tamil National Alliance) alliance. So much so, the British and the French sent their Foreign Ministers, David Miliband and Bernard Kouchner, respectively, to pressure President Rajapaksa. Their combined visit took place in the last week of April, 2009.
The writer was very fortunate to visit the SLN, deployed off Mullaitivu on the northern coast, to prevent the top LTTE leadership fleeing the country. The SLN threw a four-layered cordon, consisting of small boats (Arrows), Inshore Patrol Craft (IPCs), Fast Attack Craft (FACs) and Offshore Patrol Vessels (OPVs) in January 2009. The SLAF, deployed a pair of jets at China Bay, in case of an emergency. President Mahinda Rajapaksa, quite determined to bring the LTTE menace to an end, told the visiting European ministers the offensive wouldn’t be stopped, under any circumstances. The Sri Lankan leader had no qualms in telling British and French Foreign Ministers, so, bluntly. Like a spurned lover, no wonder the West is so hell bent on going after those who made that victory possible against their then oft repeated mantra that Sri Lankan security forces were incapable of defeating the LTTE. This brings us to the question whether the West was throughout supporting the terrorist outfit, though outwardly they were condemning terrorism.
“They’re not willing to do that,” Miliband said in an interview soon after talks with President Mahinda Rajapaksa. “The furthest the government has gone is to commit to no heavy weaponry and to minimize, what they call, collateral damage, mainly damage to civilians,” the media quoted him as having said.
If President Rajapaksa succumbed to Western pressure, the LTTE would have received the much-needed respite to re-group again. Their political arm in Parliament would have pursued the combined strategy. Had the LTTE-TNA coalition survived, the eruption of Covid-19 pandemic would have definitely presented the alliance an opportunity to exploit the situation.
Remember how they took advantage of the Dec 2004 tsunami to push for P-TOMS (Post-Tsunami Operational Management Structure) during Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga’s tenure as the President. The JVP challenged P-TOMS in the Supreme Court. The SC ruled four clauses of the P-TOMS illegal. Among the four clauses, termed illegal, were the ones as regards locating the regional fund headquarters in Kilinochchi and the operations of the regional fund. The JVP asserted that P-TOMS impacted on the country’s sovereignty and dubbed the mechanism as one which would confer legitimacy to a terrorist group.
If the LTTE had been around now, even with a much weaker conventional military capability, the crisis caused by the raging Covid-19 pandemic would have paved the way for the lethal alliance to seek a consensus on a vaccination drive in predominantly Tamil-speaking areas, under some pretext.
Failure of 2006 talks, subsequent developments
The LTTE, always cleverly used opportunities to press for legitimacy. Successive political leaderships, too, played into their hands. Every national election presented the LTTE with a chance to press ahead with its despicable strategy. The 2005 presidential election was not an exception. Even the war-winning President Mahinda Rajapaksa, much to the discomfort of those who had backed his 2005 presidential polls campaign, gave into the LTTE’s demand for talks at overseas venues. Talks took place in Feb and Oct. 2006, in Geneva, under the auspices of the Norwegians, who took us trusting natives for many a ride, like the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British before them. The Norwegians inveigled the peace carrot, regardless of the abortive bids to assassinate the then Lt. Gen. Sarath Fonseka (April 25, 2006) and Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa (Oct. 01, 2006). If the LTTE achieved its targets, Sri Lanka’s triumph over terrorism wouldn’t have been possible. That is the undeniable truth.
As the country marked the 12th anniversary of triumph over terrorism, today let me remind you the despicable way the previous administration treated the victorious armed forces. The treacherous Oct. 1, 2015 Geneva Resolution, co-sponsored by the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe government, betrayed the military during an extremely difficult situation. Perhaps, it would be pertinent to briefly discuss the high profile arrest of the then Commodore D.K.P. Dassanayake (retired on Feb. 16, 2021) in July 2017 in connection with the wartime disappearance of 11 persons. Dassanayake played a significant role during Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda’s tenure as the Commander of the Navy. Regardless of the absence of credible evidence to link him to the disappearances blamed on the SLN, Dassanayake was called back from the USN Naval Post Graduate School, Monterey, California. At the time Dassanayake was called back, he had completed six months of the one and half year-long course.
Wartime Navy spokesperson, Dassanayake served as coordinator of the SLN cordon off of Mullaitivu – Nayaru (January-May 2009) stretch and was present when the writer visited the naval units, in April 2009. The then Commander of the Fast Attack Craft Flotilla Captain Noel Kalubowila (retired over a year ago in the rank of Rear Admiral), too, had been present during the media visit to the ‘naval frontline’. Instead of bringing the case to a successful conclusion, the previous administration played politics. The police as usual quite blatantly cooperated with the diabolical political project. The police had no qualms in falsely naming Dassanayake as Director Naval Operations (DNO). The police also falsely asserted Dassanayake supervised two teams accused of carrying out abductions. Finally, a disappointed Dassanayake retired in Feb. 2021 as the high profile case that had even been taken up in Geneva dragged on.
Dassanayake’s role in Sri Lanka’s seizure of an LTTE ship, in Dec. 2009, at an overseas harbour – seven months after the eradication of the LTTE – is something the country can be proud of. A small SLN team seized ‘Princess Christina’ — said to be one of the largest LTTE arms ships — and brought it to the Colombo harbour.
In spite of the change of government, in Nov. 2019, the armed forces are yet to take tangible measures to set the record straight. There cannot be any dispute over the need to punish those who had engaged in clandestine activity outside legitimate overt and covert operations undertaken by the armed forces and police to eradicate the LTTE. The previous administration’s treachery and the incumbent government’s failure, so far, to address accountability issues properly, is quite contrary to the assurances given in the run-up to the 2019 presidential and 2020 parliamentary polls. The external environment is so bad, that the Commander of the Army and Chief of Defence Staff (CDS) General Shavendra Silva remains blacklisted by the US. America’s bosom allies like Canada and Australia, too, have followed suit in blacklisting our war heroes.
The US imposed travel restrictions on wartime General Officer Commanding (GOC) of the celebrated 58 Division/formerly Task Force 1, in Feb. 2020. The US State Department declared travel restrictions were imposed on General Silva “due to credible information of his involvement, through command responsibility, in gross violations of human rights, namely extrajudicial killings, by the 58th Division of the Sri Lanka Army during the final phase of Sri Lanka’s civil war in 2009.”
Accountability issues (or, in reality, trumped up charges) should be addressed without further delay. The continuing failure to set the record straight should be closely examined, taking political developments into consideration. A recent exchange between lawmakers, Field Marshal Sarath Fonseka (Samagi Jana Balavegaya, Gampaha District) and Rear Admiral Sarath Weerasekera (Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna, Colombo District) emphasized how politics divided the country. Having served the country for over three decades, they accused each other of pursuing personal agendas in this most unfortunate cockfight. Furious accusations and counter allegations, in Parliament, on May 5, when they clashed over the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) denying a suspect in the Easter Sunday attacks, SJB MP and ACMC (All Ceylon Makkal Congress) leader Rishad Bathiudeen, an opportunity to attend Parliament, painted a bleak picture. Weerasekera, who retired having finally served the SLN as its Chief of Staff, accused Fonseka of being part of the Tamil Diaspora project whereas belligerent Fonseka alleged his political opponent of taking advantage of Geneva sessions for personal gain. Their clash underscored Sri Lanka’s pathetic failure to keep the country’s war victory out of politics.
Fonseka’s unexpected entry into politics, in 2009 with the backing of a UNP-led alliance, weakened the country’s defence against war crimes accusations. By switching his allegiance to the new coalition, that included the LTTE political wing, the TNA, Fonseka undermined the country’s defence and after quite a turbulent political career has ended up with the breakaway UNP faction, the SJB.
Fonseka and Weerasekera clashed over the latter’s assertion that lawmakers arrested in terms of the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) shouldn’t be allowed to attend parliamentary proceedings. Weerasekera’s declaration that he couldn’t agree with TNA heavyweight M.A. Sumanthiran, PC’s stand as regards the issue at hand, is understandable. However, can there be a dispute between Fonseka and Weerasekera over the use of PTA in respect of lawmaker Bathiudeen, arrested in connection with the Easter Sunday carnage. Fonseka and Sumanthiran taking a common stand on the issue, at hand, should be examined against the latter publicly justifying the Easter Sunday attacks. Both served the Parliamentary Select Committee (PSC) that investigated the Easter Sunday attacks. The then Speaker, Karu Jayasuriya, who had been present when Sumanthiran justified the Easter Sunday attacks a week after the carnage, accommodated him in the PSC. Actually, the former Speaker, now Chairman of the NMSJ (National Movement of Social Justice), owed an explanation why he disregarded Sumanthiran’s declaration when accommodating him on the PSC, chaired by Deputy Speaker Ananda Kumarasiri.
Sumanthiran alleged that the Easter Sunday carnage was a result of Sri Lanka’s failure to ensure certain basic values. Sumanthiran warned of dire consequences unless the government addressed the grievances of the minorities. The lawmaker said so at an event, organized by the Sinhala weekly ‘Annidda’ to celebrate its first anniversary at the BMICH. Prof. Jayadeva Uyangoda, the then Human Rights Commissioner Dr. Deepika Udagama, J.C. Weliamuna, PC and the then Constitutional Council member Attorney-at-Law Javid Yusuf and filmmaker Asoka Handagama dealt with the topic ‘Sri Lanka beyond 2020.’
Except for The Island no other print, or electronic media, bothered at least to report on what Sumanthiran said as the country was still in shock in the aftermath of the slaughter of 270 people. Even the Catholic Church refrained from taking a strong stand on Sumanthiran’s declaration, though the Archbishop of Colombo Malcolm Cardinal Ranjith condemned the statement when The Island raised the issue at a media briefing at the Archbishop’s House.
Sri Lanka obviously hadn’t been able to come to terms with political realities, even 12 years after the war ended. Canada recently recognized that Sri Lanka subjected the Tamil community to genocide. The unprecedented Canadian move was taken against the backdrop of Geneva adopting an anti-Sri Lanka resolution, with 22 countries voting for, 11 against and 14 skipping the vote.
On May 6, 2021, Ontario became the first jurisdiction in the world to recognize Sri Lanka genocide as a result of Scarborough MPP’s (Member of Provincial Parliament) private bill passed the third reading in that legislature. Let me emphasize it was adopted without a vote, under controversial circumstances, and, subsequently, received the Lieutenant Governor of Ontario Elizabeth Dowdeswell’s approval, two days after Foreign Minister Dinesh Gunawardena raised the issue with Canadian High Commissioner in Colombo, David Mckinnon.
The Bill 104 (the Tamil Genocide Education Week Act), allocated seven days each year, May 11 to 18, during which Ontarians “are encouraged to educate themselves about, and to maintain their awareness of, the Tamil genocide and other genocides that have occurred in world history.”
On Twitter, Scarborough-Rouge Park MPP Vijay Thanigasalam, a Canadian of Sri Lanka origin, who spearheaded the project, called the passage of his Bill ‘a historic event for the Tamil people in Ontario and across the world.’ The first reading of the Bill took place on April 30, 2019, the Second Reading on May 16, 2019 and the Third Reading on May 06, 2021. It received Lieutenant Governor’s approval on May 12.
But where is the justice for acts of real genocide committed by white settlers against natives of Canada to grab their land and, of course, also in rest of Americas and even Australia?
The Canadian recognition of Sri Lanka genocide underscored the pathetic handling of the accountability issue. In fact, Canada, a member of the Sri Lanka Core Group, in the Geneva process, relentlessly pursued the issue at hand. Wouldn’t it be pertinent to examine what Sri Lanka did during April 2019-May 2021 to reverse the process? It would be a serious mistake, on Sri Lanka’s part, to consider the genocide rap as a project of the Ontario Legislative Assembly instead of a Canadian move. The Canadian move is severely inimical to Sri Lanka. The incumbent government, struggling to cope up with the rampaging Covid-19 pandemic, shouldn’t turn a blind eye to the threatening Canadian move. With major Canadian political parties seeking to win over the large Canadian population of Sri Lankans of Tamil origin, at Sri Lanka’s expense, the Ontario project would further strengthen the Geneva-led campaign meant to weaken Sri Lanka.
Canada-based Dr. Neville Hewage, who had made representations to the Ontario Legislative Assembly, in respect of Bill 104, and was engaged in a campaign against the move throughout this period, says the propaganda project should be thwarted. In response to The Island queries as regards his decision to move the Canadian judiciary against Bill 104, Dr. Hewage said; “I am the Applicant. I submitted a constitutional question in respect of Bill 104 at the Superior Court of Justice. We expect the Superior Court of Justice to take it up within 60 days. But there may be a delay due to COVID-19 restrictions. Facts presented in Bill 104 were completely false. Truth is a Fundamental principle of the Rule of Law. Therefore, it has to be defeated in the best interest for all parties.”
Dr. Hewage stressed that he moved the court as a Canadian Citizen. Declaring he acted as an individual, Dr. Hewage explained how he could much easily navigate the legal process as a Canadian. Asserting the action would represent the interest of all groups opposed to the ongoing harassment of Sri Lanka, Dr. Hewage said some groups, such as Sri Lanka Canadian Action Coalition (SLCAC) would make interventions.
Sri Lanka should carefully examine the Canadian challenge. Those at the helm of current dispensation should realize the impact the Canadian acceptance of the genocide charge could undermine Sri Lanka’s overall defense at the Geneva HRC. Political parties, represented in Parliament, should study Bill 104. The Parliament should take up this matter on behalf of Sri Lanka and make every effort to set the record straight or be ready to face the consequences.
Over 12 years after the conclusion of the war, Sri Lanka remained divided over her finest post-independence achievement, thanks to despicable petty politics practiced here. Perhaps, the whole Geneva process should be examined now against the backdrop of Canadian acceptance of Genocide in Sri Lanka. The Geneva onslaught will take a new turn with the recognition/acceptance of Genocide charge.
Shades of Beddegama in teeming Hong Kong
By GEORGE BRAINE
Even after being closely connected to Hong Kong for 26 years, I am still amazed by the contrasts there. Professionals earn the highest salaries in the world while destitute old women scavenge for cardboard boxes. Tycoons live in the world’s most expensive mansions while the poorest live in tiny subdivided flats. Perhaps the most striking contrast is the crowded urban areas of Central, Kowloon, and Mong Kok, and the deserted villages in the rural parts of the New Territories, where I lived.
Hong Kong is barely 500 square miles, and only half of that is inhabited; the rest is given over to hillsides and country parks. They are seven million tightly packed people. Then, how does one explain deserted villages?
Wong Chuk Yeung
Leonard Woolf’s classic Village in the Jungle, set in colonial Ceylon, narrates the slow decline of a small, isolated village, Beddegama. As the people leave or die out, the jungle gradually covers the crumbling, miserable huts. The last survivor is Punchi Menika. In the final scene, as Punchi Menika lies in her dilapidated hut, a giant wild boar glides in like a mythical devil to gore her. This scene came to mind when, during a hike, I stumbled upon the village of Wong Chuk Yeung. Located about 3 km uphill from the lovely seaside town of Sai Kung, the village lies within a country park, at the end of a narrow, twisting road. On the way up, the road winds through a steep slope on the left and a forest to the right. Uphill, trees press on the road from either side, forming a canopy.
At its first appearance, the village gave the idea of being inhabited, with strands of electricity, street lights, and a functioning water service. The one mailbox overflowed with recently delivered mail, mainly electric and water bills. However, the lichen-covered houses and the trash-strewn, weed-choked alleyways indicated a lack of life. Rice fields and fruit trees long abandoned and overgrown with weeds surrounded the village. Butterflies and dragonflies fluttered. Signs of rooting by wild boars was everywhere, and the fragile barking deer scampered off at my approach. Five-meter long Burmese pythons had been seen nearby. Old graves stood sentinel.
Long ago, the village was occupied by rice and vegetable farmers of the Li clan. They lacked proper roads, schools, electricity, or water service, but this simple life style suited the villagers. Then, imported rice became much cheaper. Rice also became hard to grow because a nearby iron mine caused a drop in the water table. Lacking even public transport, the younger generation preferred the comforts of urban Hong Kong or emigrated to Britain.
The last survivor Since that first encounter, I visited the village, on and off, over a number of years. An elderly man dressed smartly in a jacket and trousers, carrying a rolled-up umbrella, would pass me by on his way to town. I would also see him in town, chatting with people his age or doing a little shopping.
Later, I also noticed a younger man from the village, laboriously pushing his bicycle uphill, laden with plastic shopping bags. He would pause often on the way, squatting on the ground to rest before attempting a further stretch of the steep road. He did not make eye contact or return my greetings.
Then, I stopped seeing the elderly gentleman. He had died. I also learned that his wife used to carry home-made cakes on a shoulder pole for sale in Sai Kung. She had passed away before my time. The younger man, the last survivor of the village, was their son. The family had emigrated to Britain but returned to Hong Kong and to Wong Chuk Yeung for some reason.
As the years went by, the last survivor no longer had his bicycle. Instead, three dogs with matted fur would accompany him all the way to town and back. I would sometimes see him in town, feeding the dogs with scraps of bread, and reading crumpled racing sheets that he may have found in trash cans. At the village, I had noticed a ramshackle house with garbage strewn outside, the dogs loitering at the door barking fiercely at my approach. That’s perhaps where he lived.
Eventually, only one dog was left. For the last survivor, life must have been horrendous. The eerily quiet nights would have been fearsomely lonely, perhaps the ghosts of departed ancestors his only company. Occasionally, a police vehicle would pass me on the way to the village, so they must have been keeping an eye on his safety.
On my way down to Sai Kung town, splendid views of the island-studded bay, a golf course, and of a distant reservoir opened up. Although other hikers appeared on weekends, the road was mainly deserted during weekdays. Domestic helpers walking their employers’ dogs could be seen, but they too become fewer when the heat of summer set in. On some mornings, paragliders would be floating down towards Sai Kung town, adding colour to the clear blue sky.
Driving home from Sai Kung on a blisteringly hot afternoon, I saw the last survivor struggling home and stopped to give him a ride, going out of my way to the village. As my car struggled up the steep climb on first gear, we drove in silence. When he opened the door to get down, I extended my hand and said “George”. He repeated “Georgie” in the Cantonese style that I find so affectionate. Pointing to himself, he said “Li”. He had finally spoken.
The front page banner headline in the South China Morning Post came like a bolt from the blue. Forgotten Wong Chuk Yeung was in the news, with a bang, for illegal deals between developers and villagers domiciled in Britain.
Villagers profit in secret land deals
Indigenous residents sign away small housing rights in exchange for HK$500,000 or a new flat at the site, which helps developers avoid rezoning and premiums
Cheung Chi-faiNov 04, 2011
The article mentioned that the village was 350-years old, and once contained 96 houses. Obviously a substantial village, although I had not seen that many ruins; some crumbling structures may have been covered by weeds, or dissolved into the ground. But, every plot had an owner, and the developers were methodically buying up all the plots.
I had been writing-up my visits to the village on a blogsite, along with photos, and former villagers now in Britain had been reading my entries. In the comments section of the blog, the following message appeared:
Hi George, found your blog and found it fascinating. Great pictures. This is my family’s village, it is a lovely village, though very run down I still like to go and visit it whenever I am in HK – with much sadness all the villagers involved have now signed the papers for the land to be sold off to a development company. Not everyone wanted this but the majority won and it is now in process of exchange. I am extremely sad about this as the land has a lot of history. The buildings, the wildlife (the numerous beautiful butterflies!) in the land all needs to be preserved – Hong Kong needs to preserve old ancestral lands such as Wong Chuk Yeung before it’s too late.
Another villager in Britain, fiercely proud of his heritage, commented that he “will do everything it takes for Wong Chuk Yeung to stay in the Li family name”. He, and the last survivor, Mr. Li, may be what stood between the village and “development” that would erase all traces of a bygone-era.
I stopped visiting the village, but would see Mr. Li in Sai Kung town, sitting at McDonalds, engrossed in a newspaper that appears to have been salvaged from the garbage. He held the paper very close to his face, which probably meant he was nearsighted. That may have also accounted for his shyness and avoidance of people, because he couldn’t see well.
Over the years, his favourite place in town had been the Hong Kong Jockey Club betting centre. Even in the last days I saw him, he would be squatting on the pavement near the betting centre, carefully reading the racing sheet. He had shirtless, shoeless, the bicycle and the dogs long gone. He was become much scrawnier and unkempt over the years. Even when I said “Hello Mr. Li”, he would not look up or return my greeting.
I left Sai Kung in 2015. Recently, I saw that the following message had been left on my blogsite:
I’m sorry to announce that the lone survivor died at the beginning of this year (2015) and within weeks the developers moved in and put up 10 foot high corrugated hoardings fencing off the land from the public access road. This is a major eyesore and even worse is the bulldozing of the trees and wildlife areas (lush green grasslands that covered former paddy fields that were farmed by the villagers in the 50s and 60s).
I wonder about Mr. Li’s last days. Were they as wretched as Punchi Menika’s in Beddegama? Did he die alone, and discovered days later, or did someone find him before it was too late?
As for Wong Chuk Yeung, I have no wish to return. I prefer to remember it from all those years ago.
The trust deficit
Nelum Kuluna: “It’s the folly of such investments that has created the debt problem.”
‘If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.’
When this government was elected to office, there was wild jubilation, almost countrywide. People danced in the streets. But totally unexpectedly that ecstasy lasted a short time. This was no more strongly revealed than when the Cardinal, the leader of the Roman Catholic community in the country, publicly prayed to God that as he and his community could not get justice from secular authority. May God mete out justice to those who destroyed the lives of many members of his community! It was a pitiful cry of desperation (crie de coeur) that touched many people, no matter their religious faith or lack thereof. There were several well-known members of the Bhikkhu Sangha, who spoke most unhappily about the government for betraying the undertakings that had been given to them, when the now government sought election to office. The betrayal was bitter to a large sections of the population when the saubhagyaya (plentifulness), so prominently promised by the winning political party in 2019, turned out to be simply its opposite in 2021. The impending economic austerity, after the yahapalanaya government, glared in the face of all thoughtful people in 2019 but the winning party impressed upon the electorate that the party had worked out strategies and policies that would bring in prosperity which the opponents failed to achieve. The public were not shown the strategies and policies. When something is too good to believe, it is either not genuine or not true. It was sheer stupidity on the part of the electorate to believe that the key to El Dorado was in the hands of one individual or even the few who were on the path of wisdom (viyath maga); perhaps, inevitable given the alternative. It took three serious unexpected disasters to persuade two ministers of the government to explain in Parliament the dire economic situation in the country and their lack of policies to meet those perilous challenges. The first was the invasion of the SARS-CoV-2 infection that came along with tourists. After a promising start, the government floundered helplessly in 2021, failing to use effectively a fine public health structure that had many victories to its credit, including control of malaria, elimination of polio, typhoid and DPT. In mid-2021, the death rate among those infected rose above 1 percent, double that which prevailed in May 2021 and yet better than in most parts of the world. The government could not make use of the work of government servants who had information on the location and the age of people who lived there (Electoral lists in the offices of grama niladhari). The disaster that the Ministry of Shipping cluelessly invited into our seas destroyed not merely the eco system but with it the lives and livelihoods of millions of people, not necessarily only along the coast. The claim by a government minister that deaths on a large scale of sea creatures, both large and small, soon after the shipping disaster, was a regular feature in the stormy season (varakan) was shockingly disingenuous. The government handled both these disasters so incompetently that the electorate lost whatever trust they had about the government’s capacity to govern the country. The ill-timed policy to eliminate the use of synthetic chemicals in agriculture (which itself is not a bad idea in an ideal world) raised the ire of the mass of peasants and farmers and threatened the supply of food in the country and the continued production of tea and rubber. The persistent assertion by the Minister of Agriculture that there was plentiful fertiliser, herbicides and pesticides flew in the face of demonstrations by thousands of cultivators all around the country. Are these protestors true hirelings of fertiliser importers? The threat to import organic fertiliser is fraught with untold dangers, because that fertilizer carries organisms that could be dangerous to human, animal and plant health, here. More directly, that policy openly contradicted the pledges given in the manifesto of the party that fertiliser would be given to peasants free and freely.
In liberal democracies, governance is a matter of trust between the government and the governed. Governments are elected by the people periodically on the basis of manifestoes issued by political parties in which the parties lay out the policies that they would implement, if elected to office. Some unexpected emergencies inevitably arise and the policies they adopt to meet those emergencies must be governed by approaches to policy announced in their manifesto. The governed expect that government has spoken honestly in their manifestoes and would implement them in the people’s interest and not for the pecuniary gains of those that govern. When parties seeking office (not power, as we commonly say) systematically lie to seek election and the voters are either not sharp enough to see through the falsehoods or are swayed by other propaganda, (e.g. finding a small ethnic or religious group in the country whose electoral strength is petty, against whom a political party can whip up a frenzy) governments have a problem retaining the trust of the governed. ‘These leaders might invoke a lost imperial grandeur …. (Rajarata, in our case). They adopt sophisticated propaganda techniques (which may include events of spectacular destruction) in which to demolish adversaries and bolster their own egos… This charisma is leveraged to project an aura of virility that is supposed to protect a helpless citizenry against lawlessness and an endangered nation against the invasive impurities of alien and internal enemies.’ (Ariel Dorfman, 2021.) When lying came to light, the governed lost trust in government.
A fortnight ago, two Ministers who spoke in Parliament to defend the decision of the government to raise the prices of petroleum products (which itself is reasonable) laid out clearly, for the first time, the economic plight of the nation and the impecuniosity of the government. One was the redoubtable Bandula Gunawardana; the other, the lawyer Gammanpila. Later the new Minister of finance, whilst taking office, spoke about the ‘grave situation (bararum thatvaya)’ of the economy and the finances. We wish him well, in a difficult job. Why did it take 21 months for the government to take the people into confidence and explain the dire situation of the economy and the finances when they took over from the yahapalanaya government? There was, then, the added advantage of an escape goat ready for slaughter, a second time.
The government was so keen on standing by their propaganda that the president, soon after taking office, abolished the PAYE scheme, drastically reduced both direct and indirect taxes and renewed his promise to give new employment to hundreds of thousands of university graduates, which promise he fulfilled later under pressure. (The public were told, very late, that tax revenue had fallen sharply in 2020.) Independent observers were taken aback by these decisions which may have been so enthusiastically adopted only by a government, with an economy with strong sinews and a Treasury with bottomless reserves. The public awaited a miracle. They should not have, because the horn of plenty is only a fairy tale for toddlers not economics for adults. In government, one should have ‘soft hearts and hard heads’ and not the other way around, which seems to be partly the problem with the new government.
Now that some members of the government have given expression to the true nature of the economic situation and the financial imbroglio of the government, what about the way out of these predicaments? There was widespread antipathy to the idea of seeking assistance from IMF on account of the eventual necessity to agree to conditions they would lay down to come to the assistance of the economy. The IMF lays down those conditions because it wants to ensure that the objectives it sets out to achieve, require countries to follow those policies. The IMF conditions that the government disapproved of included austerity measures to ensure that the economy has a surplus with which to service debt. (It is the obverse of more resources than we produced when we borrowed from abroad.) There is no escape from seeking such drop in the domestic use of domestical output to pay back debts incurred. In addition, there was an equally widespread objection to seeking assistance from abroad and much enthusiasm for working out our own solutions. These strategies and policies now on display feature the following. There is widespread austerity in the country, fulfilling the first condition that could have been demanded by the IMF. The supply of goods of all kinds has fallen. That scarcity has resulted from many measures that government implemented. The direct reduction of imports is the most visible. Any shopper in a supermarket can observe empty shelves. Fertiliser and agrochemicals are scarce. The Covid epidemic, the shipping disaster and the scarcity of fertiliser and agrochemicals will reduce incomes cutting down total demand and demand for imports. The other means of enforcing austerity is to raise prices to make goods and services beyond the budget of most people. Fortuitously, the fall in employment has reduced levels of income and cut down living conditions. Printing money large scale brought about the rise in prices. Whether the government wished it or not, austerity which IMF would have recommended is here with us. No matter which party formed the government, this austerity was inevitable, not because we borrowed but because we invested foolishly. The public are in austerity. What is absent is a programme to reschedule debt repayment.
Individuals, corporations and governments all borrow and prosper out of debt. The secret is in the uses made of the loan proceedings. Large scale borrowing was resorted to in the years 2010-2015. We had been impoverished by a long drawn out civil war. Borrowing was welcomed by society because there were large scale projects, employment in construction ran high and the rate of economic growth was elevated. By 2015, the rate of growth had come down and the government was voted out of office. Among other reasons, the poor performance of the economy was of major importance. With large investments in the early years which helped raise the growth of the economy, the failure of the investments to raise output (summarily, high incremental capital/output ratios – ICOR) dampened the rate of growth. The failure of investments to earn a return on it was all too clear to see: Hambantota Port still does not make an adequate return; the International Conference Hall lies idle; Mattala airport receives an occasional flight; Nelum Pokuna has a more attractive garden than audiences shouting acclaim for plays on its fine stage; and the Nelum Kuluna stands solitary guard over the Colombo Port City. It is the folly of these investments that created the debt problem, not borrowing itself. Yahapalanaya government failed to realise that unless they explained to the public the dire situation in the country and imposed austerity to pay back the loans, that they would hand over to the successor government a debt burden impossible to bear. That is exactly what has happened. Saubhagya government that succeeded the Yahapalanaya government completely failed to read the economy correctly or imagined that they could hoodwink the public to believe that they had strategies and policies to meet these exigencies. The public evidently took in the latter, hook, line and sinker. That the same strategist who promoted the infrastructure programmes in 2010-2015 was appointed today to manage the economy and that his first project was an infrastructure project is cause for deep concern.
We need to put in place a programme to restructure debt service payments so that the government can manage to avoid a catastrophic further fall in living standards of the people. To agree to reschedule debt repayment, creditors need an organization, in which they have faith, that it will enforce an agreed upon reschedule. Most of the time that organization has been the IMF. Interest rates in international capital markets have begun to rise with widespread fears of incipient inflation in developed countries. The prices of materials like aluminum, copper and rare minerals have been rising for several months. The tendency for interest rates to rise is further strengthened by the initiative of central banks to disgorge their bursting portfolios of financial assets. The cheap credit regime may have come to an end. A reschedule itself may be now more expensive than earlier.
If the government does not wish to use the IMF, they will have to find a substitute. There are no other solutions.
From ‘multi-ethnicity’ to multiculturalism
by Susantha Hewa
Being able to speak only one language (monolingualism) is becoming the exception rather than the rule. More and more Sri Lankans whose home language is either Sinhala or Tamil are learning English as their second language (L2). Not many Sinhala speakers or Tamil speakers select each other’s language, namely, Tamil or Sinhala as their L2 for a few obvious reasons.
With due respect to both Sinhala and Tamil, neither of them has the social recognition that English commands in this country. Secondly, being perhaps the widest read and spoken global language, English has a utility value far exceeding that of Sinhala or Tamil, for all those who engage in higher studies, research, preparing for private sector employment, administrative work, translation, journalism and diplomatic service, among others. Many graduates realise at job interviews that a good command of English can often eclipse academic excellence, which has resulted in English becoming a major ingredient in all recipes for gainful ‘employability.’ In short, proficiency in English can be a big bonus for anybody aspiring to move ahead in any chosen path. That monolingualism among Sinhala or Tamil speakers is now appearing to be an anomaly and a deprivation needs little persuasion. However, opinions differ on how early a child should start learning English as his L2 to reap all its benefits. Is early exposure to an L2 harmful? Will it make him culturally rootless?
Let’s take an example from the Sri Lankan context. It’s not news that if a child’s parents spoke two languages, say, Sinhala and Tamil, the child would learn to speak both almost equally fluently provided that they were spoken often enough at home. So quite reasonably, she will have two mother tongues – Sinhala and Tamil, and thus be a bilingual if she were to continue speaking both languages into her adulthood. Alternatively, if only one language was spoken to the exclusion of the other at home she would be monolingual, which could be described as an instance of a lost opportunity given the time and difficulty involved in learning the other language at a later stage. What’s more, the former who acquires both languages simultaneously will have an edge over the latter in more ways than being fluent in two languages.
For instance, she would develop a better empathy with the speakers of either language and an increased awareness of their respective cultures, language being the most pervasive and fluid transmitter of the shared values of a community. Surely, it would be a better option than being excluded from one ethos depending on which of the two languages is to be her home language. Further, the exposure to two cultures would be an excellent opportunity for her to take a balanced view of both and grow up to be more unbiased about each. Such a child is unlikely to be overemotional about one culture and will find herself at home with either community as a grownup. Thirdly, as linguists point out, a bilingual is better adapted than a monolingual to learn a new language. Thus, early bilinguals in general will be more versatile than monolinguals in socialising, language learning and more open-minded about and less susceptible to synthetic divisions based on imagined/self-imposed identities. In other words, multilingualism may significantly bring down the volatility inherent in the so-called “multi-ethnic” societies.
Our longstanding tradition of being moulded by a single culture with only one home language may urge us to cast doubts about the soundness of being multilingual/multicultural from childhood, prompting us to consider it a denial of the right to have firm roots in a single culture. However, those who entertain this view may perhaps be ardent believers of “uniqueness” and “sanctity” of each culture- those who rely on “purity of stock” to be the mainstay of best human behaviour. Just take the above example of the bilingual child. If her Tamil speaking father or Sinhala speaking mother was adamant that only his or her language would be spoken at home wouldn’t it lead to a serious crisis? Can anyone determine with any justification whether mother or father’s decision should carry the day? On what grounds can anyone say that one linguistic/cultural environment is better than or superior to the other? If the parents had saner heads they would let the language mix be a blessing in disguise instead of making it a recipe for disaster. Surely, it would apply with equal validity on the broad canvas of society.
Come to think of it, it is usually our cultural seclusion that makes us feel rootless when we are placed in an unfamiliar social milieu as a grown up, which is more likely than not in the modern world where many cannot afford to stick to one job or place for long. Young children who migrate find it easier to adapt to the new setting than their parents do. As we have seen, children living in multicultural settings don’t seem to suffer any “rootlessness” whatsoever; on the contrary, they are often more confident and skilled in socializing. A bicultural is unlikely to be feeling any more estranged than an amphibian in water. It is often the insularity resulting from our cultural segregation in childhood that seems to prompt us to demonize cultural intermixing as a dangerous dilution, or worse, an out and out contamination of “inherited” values.
As such, linguistic “isolation” in childhood may contribute in no small measure to the emergence and hardening of divisive feelings continually attributed to “ethnicity” – a label which has always proved to be more harmful than useful. If bilingualism or, better still, multilingualism can dilute this unserviceable sense of segregation, why thwart it? Can we think of any instance where humans have run in to a crisis for not knowing who belonged to what “ethnicity?”
However, being a bilingual from the cradle is too good to be true. In most families, children have to be content with one home language, often, Tamil or Sinhala. Thus, to compensate for this customary language seclusion in early childhood, the L2 has to be made available to children as early as possible. As linguists claim, changes in brain plasticity make delayed L2 learning more taxing- the older you get the more laborious it becomes. In the L2 learning continuum, the earlier you start, the closer you are to the natural L1 acquisition process, which gradually shifts from its “acquisition mode” to a more artificial “learning mode” as you age, and the latter is far less effective than the former notwithstanding the extra time and effort it requires. Furthermore, while early acquisition of an L2 tends to be more comprehensive and enriching, late learning is often narrowly focused and inhibited. Many adult learners, for example, a good number of undergraduates grudgingly learn it to fulfill a necessary condition to get their degree certificate and “be employable.”
A child’s growing inhibition towards learning a second language with the passing of years is nowhere more manifest than in universities where students wanting in English language skills are conspicuous in their absence in kaduwa classes. Thus, undoubtedly, the most prudent, scientific and result-oriented approach to teaching English, or any L2 for that matter, is to focus on primary and secondary level students without delaying it until their language learning mechanisms have risen to their, so to speak, “level of incompetence.”
Surely, university entrants aren’t at their best age to contend with English because they are in an age category in which their L2 assimilation mechanism is shifting gear from acquisition to learning. The most affected by this change are those whose medium of instruction happens to be English. Their lack of proficiency in English, which is the result of inadequate exposure to it during their primary and secondary education, makes them pay a heavy price now, at least in three ways. Firstly, it makes them cut kaduwa classes to avoid looking “foolish” in the presence of their more privileged colleagues. It also drastically reduces their grasp of academic lectures, which directly affects their performance at exams, especially, in the first semester. What is most unfair is that in a system in which the first semester grades of the academic subjects determine their eligibility for field selection, those who get lower grades due to their lack of English language skills but with no deficiency in cognitive skills, are often denied of getting into their desired field. This is just one undesirable outcome of prolonged monolingualism, which can be easily avoided by placing more emphasis on early bilingualism.
Therefore, the most prudent, profitable and scientific approach to teaching English as an L2 is to focus on the young students in primary and secondary grades which will ease the pressure exerted on undergraduates who are compelled to mug up English for passing exams and be “employable.” A good command of the English language can help create a level playing for all new entrants. Only a few of them enter university to study English as a subject and all those who learn other subjects – particularly, those who study in the English medium must not be penalized for being deficient in it. After all they belong to the brightest bulbs of our youth. That English is given an excessive importance in higher studies amounts to making those who lack kaduwa pay for the “sins” of a flawed L2 teaching system, which is made absurdly top-heavy to compensate for the lack of sufficient attention given to English in early years.
With so much evidence in support of early bilingualism, ‘better late than never’ policy would only be a good joke when it comes to teaching English as an L2 in our country. In a broader sense, making English accessible to all young students may help reduce the ills of an unproductive and costly “multi-ethnic” system, which should have long been upgraded to a truly multilingual and multicultural system sans “ethnic” fault lines. Bilinguals will outdo monolinguals even if we are forced to learn another language- let it be any language from China to Peru.
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