Features

In Memoriam Qadri Ismail: Limitations of Sri Lanka’s nationalisms

Published

4 years ago

2021/06/6

by Rajan Philips

Qadri Ismail, Professor of English, Cultural Studies and Comparative Literature, in the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, passed away recently. His death was sudden and shocking. Yet another Sri Lankan scholar, writer and activist has been prematurely snatched away. Everyone who reads Sri Lankan politics in English knows of Qadri Ismail. I hardly knew Qadri apart from his writings. I have met him only once, and that was in Minneapolis, in 2007. The backdrop to our meeting was the rather long review article I had written on Qadri’s (thesis) book: “Abiding by Sri Lanka: On Peace, Place and Post-coloniality.” The article was published in 2006, in The Sri Lanka Journal of the Humanities. I owe a debt of intellectual gratitude to Dr. Senath Walter Perera, now Emeritus Professor of English and the Journal Editor at that time, who invited me to review the book and then introduced me to Qadri. In keeping with the many themes that Qadri touched in his book, and following up on my recent articles on the fiftieth anniversary of the 1971 insurrection, it is appropriate that I write this sequel on the limitations of Sri Lanka’s three nationalisms as a homage to the memory of Professor Qadri Ismail.

Exceptional Accomplishments

It is also appropriate to highlight and celebrate Qadri’s exceptional accomplishments. He was an A’ Level science student who gained admission to the Medical Faculty to study Medicine. Instead, he turned down the admission to Medicine, changed course to pursue an Honours Degree in English, and completed it with a First Class in 1984. Qadri was only the second Sri Lankan to accomplish this feat. The first, nearly thirty years before Qadri, was Prof. Ashley Halpe who too gave up his admission to Medicine and went to on to secure a first in English. Halpe also topped the CCS (Ceylon Civil Service) examination after graduation, but chose university teaching over a career in the prestigious civil service. Qadri initially chose journalism and political activism over university teaching.

Beyond his vitriolic wit and irrepressible irreverence to customs and conventions, Qadri brought to bear a heightened commitment on what he wrote and what he did. The commitment to “read the world as structured hierarchically and to confront, contest and combat hierarchization, oppression and exploitation.” And to nurture the faith and optimism that “something that has never existed,” in Marx’s felicitous phrase, can be brought about.” He carried this commitment and hope to Columbia University, where he spent his graduate decade (1989-1998), the secular North American version of the old seminary, completing his M.A. and his Ph.D.

At Columbia, Qadri Ismail became probably the only Sri Lankan to be tutored by the two pioneer giants of postcolonial studies and scholarship, the great Edward Said and Gayathri Spivak. Qadri was a graduate assistant to Said, the pathbreaking Palestinian American scholar with “an unexceptionally Arab family name (and) … an improbably British first name.” Said was born to Arab Christian parents in pre-partition Jerusalem and later became an agnostic. Gayathri Spivak is the multi-lingual Bengali American scholar and a prominent figure in Subaltern Studies, who, Qadri charmingly acknowledges in his book, “quite simply, taught me how to read.” Perhaps true to his ‘doctor parents’, Qadri blossomed into a postcolonial scholar, writing his own script, in his own inimitable tone. The list of his writings and the thesis topics of graduate students whom he advised and/or examined at Minnesota, is indicative of his scholarly sweep and comparative breadth. His 2015 book “Culture and Eurocentrism,” according to the publisher’s note, challenges the “dominant default assumption” of “discrete” cultures, and contends that “culture … doesn’t describe difference but produces it, hierarchically.”

While at Columbia, Qadri wrote what I think is the first forceful formulation of the Muslim question in Sri Lanka: “Unmooring Identity: The Antinomies of Elite Muslim Self-Representation in Modern Sri Lanka,” that was published as a chapter in the 1995 symposium, “UnMaking the Nation,” that Qadri co-edited with Pradeep Jeganathan. What is unique about Qadri’s approach to the Sri Lankan national question is the demonstration of even handed forcefulness, namely, the assertion of “justice for the minorities,” on the one hand, and the commitment for “abiding by Sri Lanka,” on the other. There was a third dimension to Qadri’s commitments. To fiercely fight the sacred cows and bigotry within his own community and against the new fundamentalism of his old religion.

All of the above, Qadri fitted seamlessly within his generously global and passionately postcolonial perspective. A key part of that perspective was to aggressively question the colonial legacies of European enlightenment, manifested in everything that makes up Sri Lanka’s postcolonial polity and society – from the constitution to lopsided parliamentary representation, from quantitative privileging of the majority over qualitative parity with the minorities to inequitable socioeconomic development, and from the reactivation of old pre-colonial follies to their emergence in new postcolonial forms.

Qadri discursively envisioned a Sri Lanka “that has never existed” – one that can only experientially evolve and not be built by brick and mortar. A Sri Lanka, where nationalisms are neither celebrated nor dismissed; where identities are neither encouraged nor questioned; and where differences are neither created nor denied. Qadri challenged the formulation of Sri Lanka’s national question as a privileged contest between Sinhala hegemony and Tamil self-determination to the exclusion of everyone else, and asserted that both the formulation of the question and its resolution must involve the dissemination of justice and equality among all Sri Lankans, including the Muslims, the Upcountry Tamils, and the Christians. The perennial failure of the State to attend to these tasks has reduced this naturally resplendent island to a politically, and violently dysfunctional family of nationalisms for 30 years. The failure of the State is only one side of the political coin. The other is the limitations of Sri Lanka’s three nationalisms.

Limitations of Nationalisms

The limitations of Sinhala, Tamil and Muslim nationalism have manifested themselves in their respective domains. Insofar as the three nationalisms are constrained to co-exist within a small island, the effects of these limitations have been generally to contain the excesses of these nationalisms. However, not always with significant success. While Sinhala nationalism is the most powerful of the three, its limitations can be seen in its inability to totally dominate, or crush, and eliminate the other two. In fairness, there are many Sinhalese and in critically sufficient numbers who do not approve of total domination or crushing of the Tamils and the Muslims. That in itself is a limiting counterweight to the more domineering instigators of Sinhala nationalism.

As for Tamil nationalism, its limitations and even losses have mostly surpassed its gains. But at every turn it has proved itself to be resilient and capable of regeneration. At the same time, just as much Sri Lankan Tamil nationalism cannot be eliminated from Sri Lanka, it cannot also overcome its ultimate limitation – that of having to find its due place within Sri Lanka. The Muslims, although they have been in the country like everyone else from the beginning of modernity and even before, are latecomers to the Sinhala-Tamil nationalist bickering. Their expectations are limited, and so their limitations are also immaterial. Yet, their arrival has not only transformed the debate but also widened the scope for finding potential accommodations.

The main contests of the three nationalisms have been in the arena of the state. In many political societies the emergence of the state facilitated the making of the nation. Hence the concept and experience of state-led nations and nationalisms. There was always the possibility of the postcolonial State of Sri Lanka spearheading the making of an inclusive nation along the lines that Qadri Ismail envisioned. That possibility is neither far fetched nor Utopian. However, the Sri Lankan experience has been not one of a unifying and inclusive experience of nation making. On the contrary, the experience has been the rejection of that possibility, and the virtual appropriation of the state by Sinhala nationalist forces and agendas to the exclusion of others. But even that appropriation has shown its limitations, for while the state was able to conclusively defeat the challenge of Tamil separatism, it is not able to override the non-separatist expectations of Tamil nationalism.

At another level, the 2019 Easter bombings exposed not any limitations but the sheer incompetence of the Sri Lankan state and its functionaries. And while the last government could not prevent the bombing in spite of prior warning, including warnings by the Muslim community itself, the present government seems unable to find out, let alone reveal, who all the masterminds behind the bombings were. More than incompetence, there are also conspiracy allegations of connivance between the elusive masterminds and high echelons of not just the last government, but the present government also. And in a historic role reversal from the 1960s when the government of the day brought the Catholic Church “to its knees” over ‘Catholic Action’, the Catholic Cardinal of today seems determined not to let the government pull the rug over criminal investigations.

A common feature of the emergence of nationalism(s) in Sri Lanka is the virtual absence of a significant economic base. The absence of a robust economy was a major factor in the developmental failure of an inclusive Sri Lankan nationalism. To the extent Sinhalese nationalism has appropriated the state, it has also appropriated the national economy. But time and again the state’s failure to come to equitable terms with the presence of Tamils and Muslims in the country, has also undermined its efforts to grow the economy even to its limited potentials. On the other hand, the economic underpinnings of the origins of Tamil nationalism were nothing more than grievances over government jobs, and later over depletion in university of admissions. At its highest stage, Tamil separatism rose over a veritable domestic economic vacuum. At the same time while the economic factor is a serious limitation on the extrapolations of Tamil nationalism, it is not going to be fatal to its continuing survival within Sri Lanka. It is fair to say that the Muslim community is more aware of the limitations of its nationalism, but it has become justifiably insistent that it cannot be indefinitely taken for granted.

The mechanics of the emergence of the three nationalism are to be found in the workings of Sri Lanka’s electoral democracy, the sociocultural structures of the three communities, and the robust assertions of their religious and linguistic inheritances. But nothing in the emergence or the mechanics thereof would suggest that the three nationalisms are inherently incompatible. The limitations of the nationalisms have prevented their excesses from becoming too excessive. The overarching role for integrating them can only be undertaken by the State of Sri Lanka. There is scarcely any sign that those currently running the State are aware of this task, let alone undertake it.

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Features

Politics of Enforced Disappearances in Sri Lanka

Published

4 hours ago

2025/03/24

Thilina Walpola

Image courtesy UNHRC

In 2016, I participated in research focused on gathering information about reconciliation mechanisms in post-war Sri Lanka. During one of the interviews, a Tamil mother, from the Eastern part of the country, broke into tears as she shared her story. Her son had disappeared, and, according to some of the neighbours, he was apparently abducted by a paramilitary group. Her story goes as follows: After hearing the news, she began searching for her son and went to the police station to file a case. However, police refused to file the case and directed her to a military camp. In the military camp, she was directed to an officer, who took her to a room with scattered flesh and blood stains. Then the officer, pointing to the room has told the lady that, ‘This is your son’.

In another instance, in the same year, while we were working in Kurunegala, an elderly mother, wearing a white saree, approached us and shared her story. She held a stained envelope, and when she carefully took out a piece of paper, related to her son, she broke into tears. She handled the paper with such tenderness, as though it were a part of her son himself. Her son was abducted by a para military group in 1989 and never returned.

These two stories have remained deeply etched in my mind for several years, leaving a lasting impact. Now, with the release of the Batalanda Commission Report, which sheds light on the atrocities committed during a dark chapter of Sri Lanka’s history, coupled with the release of the movie ‘Rani’, there is renewed attention on enforced disappearances. These disappearances, which were once shrouded in silence and denial, are now gaining significant traction among the public. Thus, it is timely to discuss the stories of enforced disappearances and the political dynamics surrounding them.

The Effect

Enforced disappearance is often employed as a strategy of terror, deliberately designed to instil fear and insecurity within a society. The tactic goes beyond the direct impact on the immediate family members of the disappeared individuals. The psychological and emotional toll on these families is profound, as they are left with uncertainty, grief, and often a sense of helplessness. However, the effects of enforced disappearance extend far beyond these immediate circles. It creates a pervasive atmosphere of fear that affects entire communities, undermining trust and cohesion. The mere threat of disappearance looms over the population, causing widespread anxiety and eroding the sense of safety that is essential for the social fabric to thrive. The fear it engenders forces people into silence, discourages activism, and ultimately weakens the collective spirit of resistance against injustice.

Absence of the body

For years, the families and loved ones of the disappeared hold on to a fragile hope, clinging to the belief that their loved ones may still be alive. The absence of a physical body leaves room for uncertainty and unresolved grief, creating a painful paradox where the possibility of closure remains out of reach. Without the tangible proof of death—such as a body to bury or mourn over—the search continues, driven by the hope that one day they will find answers. This absence extends beyond just the physical body; it symbolizes the void left in the lives of the families, as they are left in a perpetual state of waiting, unable to fully mourn or heal. The constant uncertainty fuels a never-ending cycle of searching, questioning, and longing.

Making a spectacle of unidentified bodies

In 1989, as a small child, I found myself surrounded by an atmosphere that was both suffocating and frightening, filled with sights and sounds that I couldn’t fully comprehend at the time, but that would forever leave a mark on my memory. I can still vividly recall the smell of burning rubber that hung thick in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke that lingered long after the flames had died down. The piles of tyres, set ablaze, were a regular feature of the streets where I lived. Yet, it wasn’t just the sight of the burning tyres that etched itself into my consciousness. As the flames raged on, the shadows of bodies emerged—neither completely visible nor entirely hidden.

Though my parents tried their best to shield me from the horror outside our home, I would sneak a peek whenever I thought no one was watching, desperate to understand the meaning behind what was unfolding before me. It was as though I knew something important was happening—something I couldn’t yet comprehend but could feel in the very air I breathed. I understood that the flames, the smoke, and the bodies all signified something far greater than I could put into words.

The burning piles of tyres—and, of course, bodies—which people spoke of in hushed tones, served as a chilling spectacle, conveying the threatening message the government sent to the public, especially targeting the young rebels and anyone who dared to challenge the state

Unable to seek justice

The absence of the body makes justice seem like a distant, unreachable concept. In cases of disappearance, where no physical evidence of the victim’s fate exists, the path to justice is often blocked. Without the body, there is no concrete proof of the crime, no tangible evidence that can be presented in court, and no clear sign that a crime was even committed. This leaves families and loved ones of the disappeared in a state of uncertainty, with no clear answers about what happened to their dear ones. As a result, families are forced to live in a limbo, where their grief is ignored and their calls for justice are silenced.

Undemocratic actions under a Democratic Government

Governments are meant to serve and protect the people who elect them, not to subject them to violence, fear, or oppression. Irrespective of the situation, no government, under any circumstances, has the right to make its citizens disappear. A government is a democratically elected body that holds its power and authority through the consent of the governed, with the explicit responsibility to safeguard the rights, freedoms, and lives of its citizens. When a government starts to take actions that involve the arbitrary killing or disappearance of its own people, it betrays the very principles it was founded upon.

The act of making people disappear and killing represents a fundamental breach of human rights and the rule of law. These are not actions that belong to a legitimate government that is accountable to its people. Instead, they signal a state that has become corrupt and tyrannical, where those in power are no longer bound by any ethical or legal standards. When the government becomes the perpetrator of violence against its own citizens, it destroys the trust between the state and the people, undermining the core foundation of democracy.

In such a scenario, the authority of law collapses. Courts become powerless, and law enforcement agencies are either complicit in the wrongdoing or rendered ineffective. This breakdown in legal authority does not just mean a failure to protect the rights of individuals; it signals the descent of society into anarchy. When the government wields power in such a violent and oppressive way, it erodes the social contract. When this relationship is violated through actions like disappearances, those in power essentially declare that they are above the law, which leads to a breakdown of social order. It no longer becomes a state that works for its people but rather a regime that rules through fear, repression, and violence.

by Dr. Anushka Kahandagamage

Features

Hazard warning lights at Lotus Tower

Published

4 hours ago

2025/03/24

Thilina Walpola

Lotus Tower enveloped in mist

Much has been written about the use of Hazard Warning Lights at Lotus Tower (LT)

Now it looks as if the authorities have got the day and night in a ‘twist’.

During the day time LT is in darkness. What should be ‘on’ during the day are the High Intensity Strobe Lights. It is observed that the authorities switch them ‘on’ in the night instead!

According to the ICAO recommendations what should be ‘on’ in the night are the low intensity strobe lights. High intensity in the night as is now, can momentarily blind the pilots.

At this time of the year the island experiences afternoon thunder showers which make the LT and the natural horizon invisible. (See picture) in a phenomenon known as ‘white out’ caused by fog (low cloud), mist and rain. However, the LT is kept dark and not lit up and that could be dangerous to air traffic.

In short what is needed are white strobe lights 24/7 (day and night). High Intensity by day and Low Intensity at night. They are known as ‘attention getters’.

The red lights must be ‘on’ at sunset and ‘off’ by sunrise (as correctly carried out currently).

I am aware that the Organisation of Professional Associations (OPA) has written to the LT authorities at the request of the Association of Airline Pilots, Sri Lanka, about three months ago but strangely the OPA has not even received an acknowledgement!

GUWAN SEEYA

Features

Ninth Iftar celebration organised by Police Buddhist and Religious Affairs Association, Wellawatte

Published

4 hours ago

2025/03/24

Thilina Walpola

Islam is a peaceful religion that guides people to fulfil the five pillars of Islam, namely, Kalima, Prayer, Sakkath, Fasting and Hajj and through them to attain the grace of God.

The fact that the Holy Quran, the sacred book of Muslims, was revealed on one of the odd nights of the month of Ramadan, makes people realize the special importance of the month of Ramadan.

Fasting, the Holy Quran states, “0 you who believe, fasting is prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, that you may become pure.” (2.183)

Muslims observe the first fast in the early hours of the evening when the first crescent of the month of Ramadan is sighted. The special feature of Ramadan fasting is to wake up early in the morning, eat before the sunrise (Sahur) and then fast for 14 hours until the evening prayer (Mahrib), remember the Creator and worship Him five times a day, break the fast at the time of Iftar (Mahrib), eat food with dates and spend the 30 days of Ramadan.

Ramadan fasting increases fear and faith in Allah, and it is not equal for the wealthy to live luxuriously without realizing the poverty of the poor and the poor to die of poverty. Therefore, fasting has been emphasized as the fourth Pillar in Islam to make the rich aware of the nature of poverty and to make the rich aware of the nature of hunger and to give charity.

Ramadan fasting is a shield for Muslims. The main objectives of fasting are the virtues, characteristics, morality and spiritual attraction of a person.

When approaching fasting from a medical perspective, it is said that ‘a disease-free life is an inexhaustible wealth’, so the good deed of fasting provides great benefits to the body.

Generally, it is a universal law to give rest to all the machines that have power. That is, it allows the machines to continue to function well. Similarly, it is necessary to give rest to our bodies. The fasting of the month of Ramadan explains this very simply.

“Historically, fasting has been proven to be very safe for most people,” says Babar Basir, a cardiologist at Henry Ford Health in Detroit, USA. “Ramadan fasting is a form of intermittent fasting that can help you lose fat without losing muscle, improve insulin levels, burn fat, and increase human growth hormone,” he says.

All wealthy. Muslims are required to give 2’/2 percent of their annual income to the poor in charity. This is why Muslims give more charity in the form of money, food, and clothing during Ramadan.

Anas (Kali) reported that the Prophet (Sal) said, “The best charity is to feed a hungry person.” This shows how great an act it is to feed a hungry person.

Fasting during the holy month of Ramadan, one of the most sacred duties of Muslims, is Providing facilities for fasting and breaking it is also a pious act that brings benefits. In that way, the Sri Lanka Police, as a way of receiving the blessings of Allah, have organized the Police Iftar ceremony to break the fast for the fasting people.

The Police Iftar ceremony, which is organized annually by the Sri Lanka Police Buddhist and Religious Affairs Association for Muslim police officers serving in the Sri Lanka Police, will be held for the 9th time this year on the 24th at the invitation of the Acting Inspector General of Police Mr. Priyantha Weerasooriya and will be held at the Marine Grand Reception Hall in Wellawatte under the participation of the Hon. Minister of Public Security and Parliamentary Affairs Mr. K.M. Ananda Wijepala. Muslim members of Parliament, Foreign Ambassadors of Islamic countries, High-ranking Police officers and Muslim Police officers, as well as members of the public, are also expected to attend the Iftar ceremony.

a.f. fUARD
Chief Inspector of Police
International Affairs
Criminal Investigation Department