by Dr. W.A. Abeysinghe
Over the past seven decades or so, interpretations of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, some of which are lopsided, half baked and controversial, have been many and manifold. My readers may feel rather baffled, if I disclose the fact that my studies, however humble and disorganized they may be, have commenced on far back as the latter part of the year 1958 in the last century. A jewel of a book entitled ” An Autobiography or the Story of my Experiments with Truth” (I possess up to date, though in tattered pages) which I bought at a book counter of Ananda Bhawan at Pettah, Colombo, having paid Rs.1.25 during my teacher training days at the G.T.C.Maharagama has been dated by me as 25-11-58. Simply count the many years past, since then – from 1958 in the last century to Corona ridden gloomy year of 2021 of the present century!
From the day I concluded reading the incomplete unfinished autobiography of the great Indian Sage, I remained ‘Gandhian’ in spirit, heart and soul, transcending all my later studies of Marxism – or rather, Marxism – Leninism – culminating my doubts about the so called communist utopia of a classless society annihilating the bourgeois after having established a dictatorship of the proletariat ! And now, one would be rather amused to witness how this so called dictatorship of the proletariat ended up having enthroned a heinous autocrat – corrupt to the core – in the garb of a Russian Tsar, in the emergence of a man called who dreams to build a Chinese Super Empire encompassing Asia and Africa, and a Castro type degenerated family rule which brought into being the poorest state in the whole of Latin America !
So that, as a man who witnessed all these upheavals and political changes of universal magnitude, my attraction toward ‘Gandhism’ ( if you pardon me for the term) has been unavoidable.
At a time when crude nationalism raises its ugly head in the form of racialism, communalism and many other “tribal manifestations”, in my own country the life and, most importantly, the death of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi emerges supreme in the history of mankind. Undoubtedly His death, was that of a martyr, in the compact sense of the word.
I sometimes feel that most biographers of Mahatmaji have opted to glorify his death, rather than his many-faceted political, social and reformist life.
Louis Fischer, a conscientious biographer of Gandhi, who met the great Mahatma twice – in 1942 and later, in June, 1946, begins his book with a vivid description of Gandhi’s assassination.
I quote the two opening paragraphs of Louis Fisher, verbatim:
“At 4.30 p.m., Abha brought in the last meal he was ever to eat; it consisted of goat’s milk, cooked and raw vegetables, oranges and a concoction of ginger, sour lemons and strained butter with juice of aloe. Sitting on the floor of his room in the rear of Birla House in New Delhi, Gandhi ate and talked with Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Deputy Prime Minister of the new government of independent India. Maniben, Patel’s daughter and secretary, was also present. The conversation was important. There had been rumors of differences between Patel and Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. This problem, like so many others, had been dropped into the Mahatma’s lap.
“Abha, alone with Gandhi and the Patels, hesitated to interrupt. But she knew Gandhi’s attachment to punctuality. Finally, therefore, she picked up the Mahatma’s nickel plated watch and showed it to him. ‘I must tear myself away,’ Gandhi remarked, and so saying he rose, went to the adjoining bathroom and then started towards the prayer ground in the large park to the left of the house. Abha, the young wife of Kanu Gandhi, grandson of the Mahatma’s cousin, and Manu, the granddaughter of another cousin, accompanied him; he leaned his forearms on their shoulders. ‘My walking sticks’, he called them.”
Gandhi felt completely relaxed with his “two walking sticks” and even joked with them.
“So you are serving me with cattle fare,” Gandhi said and laughed.
“Ba used to call it horse fare”, was Abha’s prompt retort.
“Ba” was their affectionate shortened name for Kasturba, Gandhi’s predeceased wife.
“Isn’t it grand for me to relish what no one else wants!” bantered Gandhi in the same jovial mood.
As many martyrs of history, Gandhi knew and even sensed that he would some day he assassinated. He didn’t fear death, for it was manifested number of times when he staged many a fast unto death. Really, he was even prepared for it.
As he was nearing the fateful day of January 30, 1948 Gandhi had once expressed thus.
“To die by the hand of a brother rather than by disease or in some other way, cannot be for me a matter of sorrow…. I would deserve praise only if I fell as a result of such an attack and yet retained a smile on my face and no malice against the doer….. All perpetrators should be won over through love.”
“Tomorrow”, he explained. “I may not be here”.
He was aware of the strengthening of the police guard on Birla House, but notwithstanding Home Minister Patel’s earnest request, Gandhi would not permit the police to search those attending the prayer meetings:
“If I have to die I should like to die at the prayer meeting. You are wrong in believing that you can protect me from harm. God is my protector.”
That was how he took death and admonished his massive following, accordingly.
On that fateful January 30th 1948, Patel and his daughter immediately left Birla House while Gandhi, a little vexed at being unpunctual, made his way to the prayer meeting. Leaning lightly on the two girls, walking briskly to make up for lost time, he mounted the six low steps up to the level of the prayer ground. As he took a few paces in the direction of the wooden platform on which he sat during services, the crowd opened to enable him to pass through, bowing to his feet as he went by. Gandhi took his arms off the girls’ shoulders and for a moment stood there smiling, touching his palms together in the traditional namaskar gesture. Just then, a stocky young man in a khaki bush jacket jostled through the crowd, roughly pushing Manu away, and when he was directly in front of Gandhi, he fired three shots at point-blank range. Mahatma’s hands, folded in friendly greeting, descended slowly. ‘He Rama (Oh, God),’ he murmured, and sighed softly as the frail old body fell to the ground. The assassin was overpowered after a short and fierce struggle, and the police quickly took custody of him.
As soon an Gandhi was pronounced “dead” by the doctors first to arrive at the Birla House was Patel, who had left his master a while ago. He managed an outward calm, despite the unexpected shock of his life. Then came Nehru, and he wept unrestrainedly by the side of his dead “Bapu”.
And among those others who arrived just then was Mountbatten, the Governor General of newly born free India and former viceroy. He had to push his way to the door through the growing crowd. Just then he heard someone shouting in a loud voice, “It was a Muslim, who did it.”
Mountbatten turned round and shouted back: “You fool! Don’t you know it was a Hindu?” Some in the crowd wanted it to be a Muslim, for they could then have a pretext to run a riot. Mountbatten’s spirited response with his characteristic presence of mind had a calming effect on the excited crowd. A member of the Governor-General’s staff remarked to him: “How can you possibly know it’s a Hindu?” Mountbatten replied: “I don’t. But if it is a Muslim we’re all finished, so it may as well be a Hindu.”
Mountbatten stood by the Mahatma’s body momentarily and then, seeing both Patel and Nehru together in the room, he acted with his instinctive sense of timing. He drew the two leaders aside and told them of his recent meeting with Gandhi, when the Mahatma had said how deeply he wished that they would resolve their differences. Nehru and Patel looked at each other, and then at Gandhi, who now lay before them on the floor, wrapped in his shroud of khadi. They moved towards each other and embraced in a gesture of reconciliation.
For a long time Manu and Abha cradled the dead Mahatma’s head on their laps, while the other women watched in silence or chanted verses from the Bhagavad Gita.
That was how Mahatma rose in death as a martyr for India’s unity.
But his death, was much more.
It was meant for the good of the entire mankind.
Never in modern history has any man been mourned more deeply and more widely.
“The light has gone out of our lives and there is darkness everywhere and I do not quite know what to tell you and how to say it. Our beloved leader, Bapu as we call him, the father of our nation, is no more,” Nehru announced the death of Mahatma Gandhi, in a hastily broadcast radio talk.
At the time Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi entered the Indian political scene, the Indian national movement was in a matured state. It was gaining momentum among the middle class Hindus and Muslims. But there existed a marked distance between the National Congress and the Indian peasantry.
Gandhi’s emergence in the national movement at that juncture, as Nehru described in his treatise The Discovery of India, was “like a whirlwind that upset many things.”
To quote Nehru:
“And then Gandhi came. He was like a powerful current of fresh air that made us stretch ourselves and take deep breaths; like a beam of light that pierced the darkness and removed the scales from our eyes; like a whirlwind that upset many things, but most of all the working of people’s minds. He did not descend from the top; he seemed to emerge from the millions of India, speaking their language and incessantly drawing attention to them and their appalling condition. Get off the backs of these peasants and workers, he told us, all you who live by their exploitation, get rid of the system that produces this poverty and misery. Political freedom took new shape then acquired a new content.”
Having fought for the liberation of the Indian community in South Africa, Gandhi returned to his native land on January 09, 1915. He brought along with him, two well sharpened political weapons – namely, passive resistance and non-corporation which during the later years of the Indian national struggle turned into Sathyagraha and a movement of civil disobedience against the British rule.
By about the dawn of the second quarter of the last century, Gandhi was the undisputed leader of the Indian national movement. Under his aegis, the national movement was geared not only toward Swaraj-home rule – but also to a wider moral, ethical and cultural movement aimed at reforming the primitive, illiterate and backward India into a vibrant new nation in the spirit of self-reliance and national awakening. His campaign of Kadhi and his struggle against untouchability and caste system should be viewed and interpreted in this context – that Gandhi was essentially a reformer.
Greatness of Gandhi lies in the fact that, unlike many other fighters for national independence the world over, he brought into being a reconciliation between political freedom and national reformation into one unified movement. His concept of future India was a far sighted and ever widening phenomenon.
The combination of Gandhi, the politician and Gandhi the reformer was remarkable indeed. To call him a saint – which is implicit in the epithet of Mahatma – does not reflect his true personality. His religious convictions and spirituality were an integral part of his personality. These attributes would, in time to come, totally eclipse the prevalent notion that Gandhi wrought the miracle of India’s freedom. Trite phrases like ‘Hindu saint’ and ‘Father of the Nation’ do not describe his true place in the history of human civilization.
Gandhi showed the world that the love of one’s people need not be inconsistent with the love of humanity. He strove to free the downtrodden from the shackles of injustice, slavery and deprivation. But he was also obsessed with the future of the entire human race. “There is no hope for the aching world except through the narrow and straight path of non-violence”, he wrote. “Milions like me may fail to prove the truth in their own lives; that would be their failure, never of the eternal law.”
When names of the giants of Indian independence movement are embedded in the fossils of history, Gandhi’s name shall shine for ever, for his humanist message of truth and non-violence.
Isn’t cleansing hearts a political issue?
In his policy statement during the inauguration of the 5th session of the 9th parliament, President Ranil Wickremesinghe insists that the solution to the economic crisis lies in economic and scientific measures, not political ones. However, he draws inspiration from Confucius and urges citizens to introspect and cleanse their hearts, which can be seen as a political measure beyond being framed as moral or ethical. In the meantime, he has asserted that his government has achieved a significant transformation and provided a concise progress report, highlighting the remarkable recovery of the economy. President Wickremesinghe has emphasised that the economy, once in dire straits and requiring intensive care, has successfully emerged from its critical condition, exhibiting a robust V-shaped recovery. (See Table 1)
President Wickremesinghe claimed that this record-breaking breakthrough achievement in a brief span is truly a world record; he compared similar situations such as Greece, which took almost a decade to recover. Refuting allegations that he is engaging in secret agreements to conceal the true situation from the public, he has emphasised that every step taken was transparent, offering opportunities for discussion and debate both within and outside Parliament, with nothing hidden. The accuracy of this statement has to be verified by the concerned parties.
Going by confidence that people will eventually recognise and appreciate his decision-making, driven by the country’s growth rather than political gain, the President does not seem to have learnt from the defeat he experienced in the past including the last presidential election. Despite implementing relatively better governance with initiatives like increasing tax revenue and anti-corruption measures, the electorate prioritised different concerns, such as the “inna ratak” outcry. Consequently, they not only failed to acknowledge or appreciate these efforts but rejected the regime altogether, leading to the election of Gotabhaya Rajapaksa in 2019.
The President appears aware of the risk of truth manipulation, deceiving both the nation and its people, yet he seems to take insufficient action to effectively prevent such occurrences.
Facing opposition from major media institutions, the President should proactively direct his media unit to implement a robust awareness program. Relying solely on the passage of time for people to become aware of his administration’s achievements is not sufficient. To effectively communicate the positive initiatives, the President and his government must engage in proactive efforts to counter the negative narrative. Failing to take assertive action may lead to a repetition of mistakes, as people are less likely to recognise and appreciate the purported “good” work without an active and strategic communication strategy.
· Recognition from international institutions.
· “Urumaya” program for land rights to over two million people.
· “Asvasuma” program improving living standards for 2.4 million poor individuals.
· 130% increase in tax network (from 437,547 to 1,000,029 registered taxpayers).
· Successful debt restructuring.
· Establishment of an economic commission.
· Eradication of corruption.
· Simplification of the investment process by eliminating bureaucratic hurdles and corruption risks.
· Social modernization.
· Target of attracting 5 million tourists annually.
· Emphasis on technological advancement, renewable energy, and establishing the International Climate Change University in Sri Lanka.
· Increase productivity of agricultural land in the dry zone (double or triple).
· Restructuring of foreign relations with non-aligned policies.
· Pursuit of free trade agreements with China, Bangladesh, and Indonesia (Singapore agreement already in full operation).
· Intent to join the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP).
· Diversification of economic activities away from the Western Province to cities like Jaffna, Trincomalee, Bingiriya, Hambantota, and Kandy.
· Plan to complete over 50,000 houses for low-income urban residents.
· Positioning the country as a service center and economic hub in the Indian Ocean by developing three new ports.
· Collaboration with India to develop Trincomalee as an economic hub.
Some of these objectives appear contradictory and need clarification. For instance, the goal of constructing 50,000 houses in urban areas, mainly in Colombo, seems to contradict the broader plan of expanding activities away from the Western Province. Additionally, there is a seeming contradiction in developing Trincomalee as an economic hub while simultaneously positioning the entire country as a service centre and an economic hub in the Indian Ocean.
The President has said that merely condemning and blaming the crisis without delving into its root causes is ineffective. However, this stance apparently runs counter to his plans for eradicating corruption and promoting social modernisation. The question is how he can conclude that addressing the economic crisis is solely dependent on economic solutions, and dismiss the relevance of political remedies. Many analysts argue that a political solution is primary, with economic solutions being secondary. Historical observations indicate that political changes, such as a regime change, precede the implementation of economic solutions by new political leaders. Without political change, the emergence of these economic solutions is challenging, if not impossible. These statements raise concerns about the possibility of individuals responsible for the crisis being absolved, despite the Supreme Court’s determination and punishment of those accountable and identification of root causes.
He has acknowledged the importance of addressing these issues but has not explicitly deemed them necessary. Perhaps, his emphasis on these matters is an attempt to garner support from the SLPP for his presidential campaign. However, it is crucial to note that he repeatedly emphasises the need to address root causes and hold those responsible accountable.
Finally, the President poses a series of questions: Why is it challenging to embrace an open perspective? Despite our diverse ideas, ethnic backgrounds, languages, provincial residencies, faiths, beliefs, and political affiliations, why can’t we unite in a shared vision for the country’s well-being and the future? Why can’t we collectively understand the benefits for our nation’s youth and join hands to reach great heights? The answers, for many, are not ambiguous. The rise to power by ultra-nationalists and corrupt politicians is often facilitated by divisive tactics. Many politicians faced imminent convictions, and without regime change, including Gotabaya Rajapaksa, several could have ended up in jail. We clearly witnessed manipulation of emotions to set different communities against each other as a route to political power. To counter such tactics, he should advocate for the implementation of strong laws and systems to prevent the propagation of manipulation through mass media.
In conclusion, vital statistics illustrate a remarkable turnaround in key economic indicators, signaling progress under his administration. However, certain contradictions and concerns arise, particularly regarding the alignment of various objectives and the perceived emphasis on economic solutions over political remedies.
The President’s call for heart cleansing and unity, inspired by Confucian principles, highlights the importance of fostering a shared vision for the nation’s well-being. Despite the accomplishments outlined, challenges remain in navigating political complexities, addressing root causes, and maintaining transparency to win public trust.
The proposed initiatives, including eradicating corruption, social modernization, and economic diversification, reflect the administration’s ambitious agenda. However, the potential contradictions warrant clarification.
The assertion that the economic crisis resolution lies predominantly in economic and scientific solutions contradicts the notion that political remedies are secondary. Analysts argue for a holistic approach where political and economic solutions complement each other, emphasizing the need for effective governance and accountability.
The President’s reluctance to name the people, who are responsible for the crisis, raises concerns. This ambiguity may stem from political considerations or an attempt to garner support from the SLPP.
The reference to manipulation of emotions for political gain highlights the need for strong laws and systems to counter divisive tactics through mass media.
Hence, the President should address the underlying political forces that contribute to the root causes of the crisis. Cleansing hearts is not an economic solution; it is fundamentally a political issue.
(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT University, Malabe. He is also the author of the “Doing Social Research and Publishing Results”, a Springer publication (Singapore), and “Samaja Gaveshakaya (in Sinhala). The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the institution he works for. He can be contacted at email@example.com and www.researcher.com)
President needs to take up challenge of leaving a legacy
By Jehan Perera
Even as the date for the presidential elections approaches, there are increased speculations regarding those elections, not only who might win but also whether those elections will be held at all. There is also a debate being generated whether the presidential elections ought to be held at all. There are many who feel that President Ranil Wickremesinghe needs to be given more time to take the country to development. United States Assistant Secretary of State for South & Central Asian Affairs, Donald Lu, might be one such. He has described Sri Lanka’s economic recovery as one of the greatest comeback stories in the part of the world he deals with. On the other hand, there are others who argue in favour of abolishing the presidency as soon as possible. This would also do away with the need for a presidential election to be held.
There is indeed a strong case for the abolishing of the presidency which is generally believed in the country to be an institution that is over-powerful and prone to abuse by those who are elected to it. This argument has been made into an election campaign theme by some of the past presidential candidates at past presidential elections. But after they won the elections those who promised to abolish the presidency failed to do so, and instead made strenuous efforts to stay on as long as they could, which explains why the presidency continues to this day. There being little faith that those who win the presidency will wish to abolish it, there is an opinion being formed that the presidency should be abolished before the presidential elections. The fact that the presidential form of government led the country to economic disaster is another reason for the hurry. There is, however, a question as to the practicability of this proposition.
The present system of government is called the executive presidential system on account of the central role in the constitution given to the presidency. It can be imagined that cutting out this central institution will be like a fatal wound caused to the prevailing structure of governance. It may be argued that through skillful constitutional engineering that the hole caused by the excision of the presidency can be filled. But the speed at which these reforms can be enacted is questionable in the absence of a political consensus that includes both government and opposition on the issue which is presently not to be seen. If there is to be an abolition of the executive presidency, it is very necessary for there to be consultation with the population and political parties about the new system that will replace the executive presidency. It must be one that meets the expectations and aspirations of the ethnic and religious minorities as well. There is no such consensus at the present time.
There have been deliberations on a new constitution and on constitutional reform on many occasions. However, constitutional schemes from the past cannot substitute for the need to consult people and political parties at this time, when circumstances have changed so drastically, having experienced the Aragayala protests and economic bankruptcy. There is also need for recognition that where there is no consensus, as on the solution to the ethnic conflict and the inclusion of ethnic and religious minorities into governance, change proceeds painfully slowly. This can be seen in the change of the electoral system to the provincial councils that commenced in 2017 and has still not been completed with the result that provincial council elections are overdue five years. It is also noteworthy that 36 years after being made part of the constitution, the provincial councils are in abeyance and there is a proposal pending to eliminate their police powers which, in any event, was never implemented. Fast tracking constitutional change does not seem to be an option especially when all eyes are focused on elections.
Public opinion polls are repeatedly showing that the opposition candidates are ahead in the presidential race by significant margins. If these poll results are anywhere close to reality it can be surmised that the vast majority of people are looking for an election. They would see that it is an election more than anything else that could dislodge the government which is entrenched in power under the leadership of President Wickremesinghe. Two years ago the weakness of the government was such that its leading members dared not come into the public as they feared the wrath of the mob. Some even faced heckling at weddings where people who had come for the happy occasion started hooting those whom they accused of bankrupting the country. Now they are able to attend public functions without fear and with reasonable confidence that their security personnel can handle any eventuality.
The prospect of losing power is never a pleasing one to political leaders with their sights on power. Even advanced countries such as the United States have faced this situation. At the presidential election held in 2020, incumbent president Donald Trump refused to accept defeat and claimed the election was rigged. The desire of those in power in developing countries would be as strong, perhaps even stronger, as losing power could make the incumbent vulnerable to revenge in which the system of checks and balances fails to protect them. The prospect of facing an unknown future in the aftermath of electoral defeat would also be unnerving to those in government, especially if the new government is composed of those with a very different political ideology.
The present government is for the most part a continuation of the government that had to face down the protest movement in which tens of thousands of people from all parts of the country participated. During those halcyon days, protestors young and old from far and near came on foot, on motorcycles, tractor trailers and improvised lorries to be part of a historic revolution they thought was near. The vision of a “system change” that motivated them to make big sacrifices to come to the various protest sites still lives within them, as indeed it must within all who want to see Sri Lanka politically awaken and rise to its full economic potential which is still a distance away. The main beneficiaries of the elections to come will be those who best hold out the hope of system change that will eradicate corruption and ensure a fairer distribution of the costs of getting out of bankruptcy.
The opportunity to effect governmental change will come in October when the constitutionally mandated presidential election falls due. Those in the government would prefer if those elections do not take place or are postponed for as long as possible. In March 2022, the government ensured that local government elections were not held by denying the Election Commission the money to hold them. The government’s determination not to hold those elections was high. It even disregarded the Supreme Court order to make the money available to the Election Commission to conduct the elections. This was a highhanded act that undermines the principles of democracy itself. There is concern that the presidential election will similarly be postponed on some ground or the other.
However, on this occasion, the President’s media unit has stated that the presidential election will be held within the mandated period and according to the current timeline. It added that the general election will be held next year and financial provisions will be provided for in the 2025 budget. The government has also stated that the Election Commission is responsible for conducting the elections and the government will be communicating with the Commission as and when required. President Ranil Wickremesinghe has also reiterated to a group of MPs who met him recently that the presidential election would be held on time and there would be no abolition of the presidency. Speaking in a statesmanlike mode, the president said, “I have clearly stated several times that I have no intention to put off the presidential elections. Funds for that purpose are there. The talks about attempts to abolish the executive presidency were circulated by the main opposition.”
The president is also reported to have said that “People of this country know better than the opposition that the abolition of the executive presidency cannot be done in a hurry. There is a procedure to do that. We should not fall into their trap. Do not waste your time on this. You speak of the economic revival programme that we are carrying out.” Likewise, President Wickremesinghe can also seek to address the country’s most intractable problem, the ethnic conflict by ordering the full implementation of the 13th Amendment which would make it easier for the victor at the next election to find a mutually acceptable solution. Whether he succeeds or not he could feel contentment that he did what he had agreed and undertaken to do.
Silence in the classroom: Confronting the dynamics of ‘deficiency’
by Ruth Surenthiraraj
I remember, with unusually vivid clarity, the first time I really noticed the presence of silence in the classroom. One of the lecturers, who was taking our undergraduate class, had assigned us reading to be done ahead of time, parts of which were quite tedious and had to be read twice/thrice over to be grasped. In true happy-go-lucky undergrad spirit, my classmates and I turned up having ‘skimmed’ the articles and nurturing the fervent hope that someone else would pick up the discussion in the event that any questions were raised. As you would imagine, it went horribly wrong. The lecturer posed a question that required some thinking, and we suddenly and silently went into panic-mode in a bid to offer something akin to an answer. A few of us tried to start things off by giving noncommittal responses in the general direction of the question and were kindly asked to explain ourselves further – at which point we fell silent once more because we felt that we hadn’t thought things through. The lecturer, instead of berating us for not reading adequately or making us feel like we were bad students, simply invited us to embrace the silence so that we could get our thoughts in order.
In recalling this incident, I remember the strong sense of discomfort that we felt as learners. It wasn’t, however, something that stemmed from the lecturer or their handling of what must have been a frustrating situation. Instead, I now read that feeling as the acute discomfort of learners who had been trained to view silence in the classroom as something negative. That incident – apart from giving me impetus to never turn up to my classes without completing my assigned reading – also invited me to begin exploring the role of silence and its presence (or absence) in our undergraduate classrooms.
Although silence in teaching and learning is still fairly under-researched and is rarely a nuanced consideration in mainstream conversations around the dynamics of a classroom, there are still broad arguments that have attempted to imbue silence with meaning. For one, our multiple religious traditions seem to have strong tendencies towards silence as a form of retreat to assist deeper reflection even though these traditions often sit in direct contrast with current trends to be constantly producing and documenting aspects of life. Conversely, there is often a ‘culture of silence’ (much bemoaned by Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire) that surrounds those who are socially, economically, and culturally vulnerable – a way in which socialisation teaches people to not interrogate their realities. Linguistically speaking, silence often assists us in distinguishing speech units (i.e., the silence that marks a pause in or completion of an idea/thought), but it can be further categorised as playing various functions in establishing relationships between participants in conversations. The possibilities of interpreting silence are myriad.
In the classroom, however, I think we are often limited to viewing silence as a negative indicator. As educators working with undergraduates, we assume that learners’ silence signals a disinterestedness or a disengagement from the critical approaches that should ideally frame undergraduate classroom discussions. At an even more basic level, we often consider silence to signify a lack of knowledge and we then attempt to fill that assumed void with speech that appears to address this lack of knowledge. As a result, we educators often view silence as a thing to be disliked at best and dreaded at worst. But what could silence really mean in a classroom of learners attempting to engage with new knowledge?
Firstly, it is very likely that the learners in our classrooms are expressing a deep-seated, culturally taught fear: the fear of giving the ‘wrong’ response. Sad as it is, it is still common to find educators who berate students for giving unacceptable answers. Instead of engaging with why the answer might not best reflect the desired response, we often shut students down when they don’t meet our (sometimes undefined) expectations. We rarely realise in the moment, though, that learning is a process in which ‘mistakes’ are as important as so-called successes. In fact, mistakes and errors often pave the way for deeper understanding of how what works and why. When learners begin to internalise the message that they don’t know enough to answer, they will simply opt to remain silent despite having a working knowledge of a subject. On the contrary, our classrooms should be safe spaces for ‘stupid’ or partial answers that encourage the students to reflect on why those responses require more thought.
In a constructivist view, learners are not blank slates which we fill with information: rather, they are intellects with existing knowledge structures (schemas) which are formed based on their experiences in life. When these existing schemas meet new knowledge in the classroom, the learner is required to make some adjustments in order to accommodate the new knowledge. This accommodation requires time and the capacity to be reflective, which in turn enables a more integrated worldview. Indeed, if education is meant to be transformative, repeated opportunities to integrate new and existing knowledge structures must be offered to learners within our classrooms. In short, I believe silence could also indicate an unspoken request for space and time to contemplate the significance of new knowledge. Sometimes, we give our students too little time to fully turn ideas around in their heads before requiring them to respond to us. I’ve observed many good educators allowing their frustration at silence to compel answers from students – resulting in responses that might be superficial rather than actual reflections of learning. A better way to undercut our impatience with silence would be to invite learners to hash out their fledgling ideas among themselves before attempting to articulate a holistic and/or individual response. This preliminary discussion often assists in integrating new and existing knowledge in the relatively safer space of peer groups.
Over centuries, educators have also played directly into the problem of sanitising education – separating theories and practices from the contexts in which they originated or detaching them from the sociocultural impacts they may cause. In turn, learners gain an ‘education’ that is removed from its everyday consequences. This also makes it difficult for learners to assimilate such unrelatable concepts, leading to more awkward silences in our classrooms as they attempt to collect seemingly detached pieces of knowledge.
Finally, silence is further compounded in classrooms where students are expected to respond in their second languages. With increasingly more undergraduate study programmes opting to shift wholesale (and almost overnight, in some cases) to the English medium instruction, many more undergraduates are going to be struggling to articulate their thoughts in a language that is not part of their repertoire. Educators (especially those other than language teachers) must be doubly attentive to these unspoken difficulties when interpreting silence. There are a heartbreakingly large number of stories where perfectly articulate and knowledgeable students are deprived of their classes (not to mention jobs) simply because they have not mastered the art of the second language yet. In wrongly categorising such students as ‘below par’ or not having the requisite ‘skills’, we relegate them as incompetent rather than critique our own skewed standards. I have often admired a student in my class for her comfort with awkward pauses as she attempts to construct a sentence that accurately reflects her thoughts as well as ‘acceptable’ language structures. But this is also possible only because I have now taught myself to never rush learners as they navigate new knowledge in a language that they are not fully familiar with. As a teacher of English as a second language, the tendency is to jump in with the necessary vocabulary so that the silences/pauses cause minimal discomfort to the learner. Yet, how will our learners ever be comfortable with the pauses that are inherent to language use and language learning if we do not (want to) confront our own discomfort with silence?
Learner silence, therefore, could act as a signifier of multiple underlying processes and problems. I am not in any way suggesting that silence cannot be associated with a lack of knowledge or with disinterest. However, to boil nuances in learner silence down to either a lack of knowledge or a sense of apathy regarding their discipline is to view learners reductively; we rob them of their right to be considered and accommodated as complex intellects in our classrooms. In rephrasing our questions (to better shape the silences in our classes) or in simply limiting our impatience at the lack of sound/response, we begin to create an atmosphere that is supportive of deeper engagement with our disciplines.
(Ruth is a teacher of English as a second language at a state university.)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
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