What next from the US Embassy, toilet training?

The US Embassy in Colombo has called for applications.  Applications are to be reviewed on a first-apply basis.  This is a program, so a missive from the Embassy says, ‘designed to promote greater understanding of social media.  It’s called ‘Social Media Lab’.  The Embassy clearly understands that there are different levels of ‘understanding’; there will be beginner, intermediate and advanced modules, therefore. Kind.

Christopher Teal, Director of the American Center brags: ‘We have done a number of social media trainings over the past few years, and want to formalize these trainings thorough a system of educating the public on social media best practices.’ Generous. 

He even has an ‘ultimate goal’: ‘to foster a greater understanding among Sri Lankans about social media and to inspire people to engage more effectively online.’ Wow!

The last time I heard, Sri Lankans didn’t have problems communicating with one another. They knew where to gather and how.  They knew how to speak their minds, share information and so on.  They were tweeting, texting, emailing and blogging for centuries, only they didn’t call it that and were using different templates.  Literacy came to them more than a millennium before Teal’s ancestors knew the concept. 

The USA knows about virtual communities but is essentially home to a culture that places little value on collectives and solidarities.  Indeed, it has used its clout in multilateral outfits such as the World Bank, International Monetary Fund and the World Trade Organization to arm-twist governments in countries like Sri Lanka to adopt policies and implement strategies that wreck these things.  If they haven’t really succeeded it is not for lack of effort or ingenuity.  It has something to do with resilience, civilizational length and depth, and foundational philosophies that are hard to destroy. 

So why this sudden need to educate Sri Lankans about communication?  Philanthrophy?  Nah! Perhaps it is the mistaken belief that social media had something to do with the so-called Arab Spring – misnamed of course, for what it produced in the end was an Arab Fall.  Is it then about putting in place mechanisms that could be ‘worked’ to advantage if regime-change need crops up at some point? 

Well, if Sri Lankans want regime change and if regime change is to result in system-change and not an occupant-change, they’ll find their own way and even use social media to get there.  It is however unlikely that social media will play any critical role and this is not for lack of ‘operational knowledge’.  Social media is a convenient displacer of rebellion. In short it takes the rebel out of the street and into cyber space. The power equation is not resolve in those ethereal territories.  Not right now and not in the near future, going by trends.  Perhaps it is about covering bases, to use a baseball metaphor that Teal probably is familiar with.   That’s ok.  Teal should know, however, that Sri Lankans know that Americans of the United States don’t believe there are free lunches.  There’s investment and return on the same.  Just saying.

But there’s another pertinent element here.  Has the US Government done the same for US citizens? Has it set up ‘Social Media Labs’ in every state, every county and every township?  Has it tried to ‘promote greater understanding of social media’ among its citizens?  Has it been determined ‘to foster a greater understanding among its citizen about social media and inspire people to engage more effectively online’?  If not, why not? 

There’s condescension here folks.  It’s an insult.  Next they’ll set up a ‘Defecating and Urinating Lab’ and implement a toilet-training program to ‘foster greater understanding among Sri Lankans about evacuating bodily waste! 

[For the record, just to show we are not as uncivilized or similarly condescending or more importantly, savvy enough about these things, this piece will be shared on fb, posted on multiple news websites and personal blogs, emailed and tweeted.] 

msenevira@gmail.com

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On unhappy cowards and hero-wannabes

The world has always known heroes and not all of them have shown any hero-potential until the defining act of heroism.  The term ‘hero’ is used loosely today in Sri Lanka.  This is understandable in a country that saw the end of a 30 year old war just the other day. All those who were in some way engaged in that exercise, regardless of the magnitude of contribution, have earned ‘hero’ tag. Let me not grudge any of them whatever glory that accrues on account of label.  Let me instead talk about the making of heroes.

My late friend Errol Alphoso, who educated me with words, grammar rules, information and philosophy, once sent me a lovely quote. It was from ‘Travels in Hyperreality’ by the inimitable Umberto Eco, easily among the most brilliant narrators and thinkers of our time.  Here’s what he says:

‘The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else. If it had been possible he would have settled the matter otherwise, and without bloodshed. He doesn't boast of his own death or of others. But he does not repent. He suffers and keeps his mouth shut; if anything, others then exploit him, making him a myth, while he, the man worthy of esteem, was only a poor creature who reacted with dignity and courage in an event bigger than he was.’

There are heroes, non-heroes, hero-wannabes and hero-don’t-wannabes.  Heroism is a fact noted after the moment.  There are no guidebooks on heroism; there are only accounts of events in which the random person is transformed into a name and given hero-tag on account of doing what others lacked courage, wisdom, presence of mind etc to do. 

Reading that quote made me wonder what kind of life and approaches to life would make the difference between two ‘honest cowards’, one remaining witness and the other raising hand and then being trapped thereafter to suffer all the burdens that being a hero brings.  I remembered an incident that occurred at the height of the JVP-UNP bheeshanaya of the late eighties.  My father related the story, which involved a fellow civil servant. 

Apparently my father’s colleague had seen a JVPer attempt to extort money from someone.  The man had taken the money and got away.  The colleague had said ‘the next time, I will know what to do’.  After relating this, my father observer, ‘there is never a next time for what needs to be done; the next time also, the same thing would happen’.  And then he added, ‘had it been his brother, that man would not have got away.’  I vaguely remember him mentioning something about character. 

I am pretty sure that two people with similar character traits would react differently to a hero-moment.  On the other hand, I believe that the cultivation of certain values enhances the possibility of an unlikely and reluctant hero from stepping in when the more flambuoyant and flashy would pause for the fraction of a second that takes for moment to pass.  There has to be humility and generosity at some fundamental level. The particular individual has to be endowed with the ability to recognize the pathos of the human condition, a sense of what is of worth in a human life and an intersection of such values with the need of the moment.  Individuals so endowed and so unprepared to be heroic and indeed even averse to fantasizing of hero-moment, when confronted by a situation that calls for action (even at that point it is read as ‘need’ I believe and not as ‘call for heroism’), does what is logical (not ‘heroic’).  I think this is what Eco calls ‘mistake’. 

We don’t need to cultivate hero-energy for there’s no such thing. We cannot groom our children to be heroic. We can only teach them what we believe are good habits, decent values and the virtue of being aware of a moral universe, subjective though it certainly is. 

Life surprises us at every turn and the magnitude of our ignorance is such that we are never prepared to all eventualities.  Someone might be heroic at one moment but faced with a similar situation at another time might slip into the bystander category.  We are all cowards, but not all the time.  Our shining moments are made of the chance confluence of the best-streams of who we are.

There is one kind of individual who will never be a hero: the hero-wannabe.  No, it is the honest coward who seizes moment, perhaps reluctantly and with or without any notion of the regrets that he/she must necessarily suffer.     

It is silly then to nurture heroism.  It is far more worthwhile to teach ethics for it is those who consistently refer an ethical frame, recognize frailty and attempts correction, who will, when the time comes, do what needs to be done without turning into event-chroniclers armed with the emphatic but meaningless ‘next time’.  

Malinda Seneviratne can be reached at msenevira@gmail.com

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Man of the Year 2013: Karu Jayasuriya

Reticence, resolve and courage marks the man

He is known today as the Chairman of the United National Party’s recently instituted ‘Leadership Council’.  Today he is known as a politician, but politics actually came late in his life or rather he became political in the popular sense of the term at the age of 56.  That’s as late as you can find. 

What was his life before that?  Karu was a businessman and a very successful one too.  He served as a commissioned officer of the Sri Lanka Army from 1965 to 1972. He was appointed as Sri Lanka’s Ambassador to Germany by President Ranasinghe Premadasa. 

He entered politics formally when he was made Chairman, UNP in 1996 by Ranil Wickremesinghe.  Prolific and incisive political commentator C.A. Chandraprema has argued convincingly that Karu owes nothing to Ranil, rather Ranil needed Karu at the time.  The following year he was elected Mayor of Colombo by a large majority. Contesting the Western Provincial Council election as the Chief Minister aspirant, Karu almost led his party to an unexpected victory.  He was a fresh face in politics at the time, even refusing to put up posters because ‘it polluted the city he worked hard to keep clean’.  He entered Parliament from the Gampaha District in the year 2000 and has been victorious in every election since then.

It was never easy for Karu.  He was given the ‘hard ministry’, Power and Energy, ‘to make him a failure,’ some said. Karu delivered.  He rose to the position of Deputy Leader, UNP soon after.  After the party was ousted in 2004, if there has been anything consistent about the UNP, it is the demand that Ranil Wickremesinghe steps down.  Karu was the natural and popular choice as successor. We need not go into the details of party intrigue, suffice to say that Karu, unlike most politicians, did not seek position.  He was sidelined deliberately and his supporters were repeatedly stumped by an intransigent man who had tweaked the party constitution to keep his position secure.  At no point has it been recorded that Karu Jayasuriya showed any rancor in the face of this bludgeoning.

In the year 2007, Karu put aside political differences to join hands with a Government that showed for the first time true commitment to ridding the country of the terrorist menace. He put country before self and before party.  He was not riding a nationalist wave; Karu Jayasuriya pinned the national flag to his national dress long before the hurrah-boys did or even started mouthing patriotic rhetoric. When it was clear that a decisive military victory was on the cards, he quit. He returned to his ‘Mother Party,’ the UNP. 

In-fighting didn’t stop as the UNP lost election after election, subsequent to which defeats there were inevitable calls for the leader’s ouster.  Once again, Karu was the popular alternative.  He stood for election and was duly trounced, with little thanks to some of his staunchest backers who, it is now apparent, were more interested in securing position within the party than in reforming it.  Karu was marginalized. He did not whine; he worked.

Today, as the head of the Leadership Council, Karu remains what he has always been: a unifier. He recognized flaw in others just as he acknowledges his frailties and by the same token sees strengths even in his detractors or would-be ousters.  He therefore works to bring the best out of everyone.  That’s leadership.  That’s also hope for a nation that sorely needs an articulate, robust, tireless and nationalist opposition.     

CITATION:

Where was Karu Jayasuriya on January 1, 2013?  What was his status and stature in the United National Party?  If someone was asked about Karu Jayasuriya’s political future at the beginning of the year, the answer might very well have been ‘bleak’.  Now, at the end of the year, the much vilified and politically victimized Karu Jayasuriya is Chairman of the UNP’s Leadership Council.  He has not exactly ousted Ranil Wickremesinghe, but nevertheless has moved past his detractors including those who did their utmost to toss him towards the periphery or beyond of the leadership circle.  That meteoric rise in the short span of just 12 months is unmatched in the political sphere.  It has taken much hard work, long conversations, a resolve not to be swayed by praise or blame, and composure in the face of vitriolic assaults by media outfits that had invested in his rivals to the point that such individuals had been turned into pawns.  For his reticence, resolve and courage in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges, The Nation names Karu Jayasuriya as ‘The Man of the Year 2013’.

msenevira@gmail.com

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Powdered racket?

The Sinhala word for powder would be ‘kudu’.  ‘Kudu’ however has acquired a new meaning and one that has become so much a part of colloquial usage that if you translated back into English you won’t get powder but drugs!  There’s that kind of powdered racket too where the high and (shall we say?) less-than-mighty stand indicted for crimes of omission or commission in the public eye.

There are other powdered rackets.  White stuff. Milk.  The year 2013 was not exactly overflowing in kiri and peni, that’s milk and honey, but we had milk all over the media.  There was the DCD issue.  There was the case of a prominent milk powder distributor virtually purchasing insurance by way of sponsoring professional associations.  There was and is the vexed issue of hoarding. And now we have impending price hikes. 

The inimitable Daya Dissanayake offers some thoughts: ‘If milk powder importers stop all advertising, most of which are untruths and most unethical anyway, they do not need a price increase. The CAA should ask them to submit the total amount each importer spends on advertising and other forms of promotion.’

The evidence makes it hard to dismiss Daya’s assertions about truth and ethics.  The Nation has pointed out that there is fear mongering in addition to exaggerated claims and falsehoods.  There’s also concealment of pertinent information.  One can’t really object to advertising though.  The trick would be to keep things sane and for the advertising fraternity to come up with some kind of ethical advertising guidelines.  Even if that were the case, it would be hard to enforce a limit on advertising expenditure.  Milk companies make huge profits.  Even if the percentage set aside for advertising is lowered, it would still be something that would make ad agencies salivate. 

It’s good to know the numbers of course. Gives perspective.  The numbers can be obtained even if the particular milk powder companies don’t furnish them voluntarily.  The numbers will tell a tale.  The public needs to hear it.

There are many ways to cut costs.  Packaging is one.  Take any random milk powder carton.  The milk powder is contained in a sealed bag inside the cardboard carton.  Take the bag out and keep it near the carton.  You will find that the cardboard container is close to double the size actually required to hold the milk powder. Why?  It’s a classic promotional technique: ‘keep things larger than life; catch and hold the eye, mesmerize!’  Like politicians and their cut-outs. 

We are paying for that extra cardboard.   We don’t drink it, do we, though?

Daya is correct.  We don’t need a price increase.  Indeed we don’t need so much powdered milk.  Some might argue we don’t need milk at all!  The DCD scare made people think again about purchasing powdered milk. People rejected and still reject Fonterra brands.  There was a milk powder scarcity since other brands couldn’t make up for the loss on the supply side of the equation.   

Hoarding exacerbated the issue. 

Bottom line: there were no riots.  People seem to have realized that they can do without powdered milk.  Maybe that’s what’s bugging the milk powder companies most. 

 

msenevira@gmail.com

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U.L. Ranjith’s Christmas

‘How’s Christmas?’ someone asked.  When everyday seems ok, there’s nothing special about Christmas, even for  Buddhist who gets surrounded by ‘Christmasness’ come December.  This Christmas was special though.  Now we know in general that not only is everyday not Christmas for some, but the kind of festivity associated with that word is foreign to some every day of the year.  There’s no Christmas, no Vesak and no Avurudu for some people.  And that’s our Christmas story this year.

The place name is romantic and rolls off the tongue like poetry: Gallinda Mookalana in the Kuttikulama Grama Niladhari Division in Thirappane.  Gallinda Mookalana could be broken down to Gal (stone) + Linda (well); a rock-well, then in a mookalana or jungle.  And in this jungle of the rock-well there’s a cave.  Even more romantic.  But that’s it. No further romance.  For in this cave lives a 36 year old widow (her husband is one of hundreds who have been felled by CKDu or Chronic Kidney Disease of Unknown Sources), Chandrika by name.  She has two sons, 5 and 2 years of age.  That cave is home to Chandrika, her two children and her father, who is now 75. 

The details were in the Lankadeepa of December 25, 2013.

‘My father is too old to work.  Whatever the difficulties are one must take care of parents. My children cry because they are hungry.  The older boy begs to be taken to school.  I walk around the nearby villages, begging for food.  This is the rainy season.  When it rains I have to try hard to keep my children from getting wet.’

Bhanuka, the older boy, has a dream: ‘I want to go to school, I like to read storybooks. My brother and I don’t have toys.  Someday I will study and become a big man and I will take care of my little brother, our mother and our grandfather.’

Here are some more place names, no less poetic.    Nambarawatte is in Ethkandura.  Ethkandura is in Ambalangoda.  Then there’s Beliattewila in Millewa.  Millewa is in Horana.  The person associated with these place names has a name: Uswatte Liyanage Ranjith.  Ranjith was born in Nambarawatte but has made his home in Beliattewila. Ranjith is a retired soldier who has been in the thick of battle.  He has a ‘military look,’ certainly, is neatly dressed, looks fit and strong, and is disciplined.  He is now a driver at Rivira.  Ranjith is an entertainer.  He is a good actor.  He will regale you with endless anecdotes.  He will make you laugh. 

Ranjith brought all the poetry and pathos of place names and being together.  He was reading the Lankadeepa in the guard room this morning. 

‘Aney pau!’  That’s how he started expressing his sorrow about the plight of Chandrika’s family.  He related the story.  When he came to the point where little Bhanuka talks of school, he broke down.  He didn’t sob, but the tears rolled down his cheeks freely. 

‘Damn! I never win the lottery.  If I did, I could help people like this.’

One couldn’t figure out which was sadder, the plight of the family living in a cave in Gallinda Mookalana or the incapacity of a total stranger who wants to help but cannot. 

It is recommended that one walks, metaphorically of course, in another’s shoes for seven miles before venturing to judge that person.  There were no shoes for Ranjith to step into.  He stepped into minds and hearts, he walked over territories of sorrow and political economy, passed from one climactic zone to another and another until he was in the environs of a small cave that was hardly shelter, located in a hitherto unheard name, Gallinda Mookalana.  That’s pretty fast.  That’s empathy that is unadulterated. 

Ranjith was unrecognizable from the man who entertains whoever happens to be around at lunchtime or any other time for that matter.  A child, then?  A soldier, certainly.  A citizen who understands what citizenship means.  A man who strings together place names and humanity, can do nothing but cry and therefore weeps without shame. 

This Christmas was humbling. 

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Fishy business

Daya Dissanayake, bi-lingual novelist and commentator on all things he believes deserve comment, offered one of the most pertinent observations on the Indo-Lanka spat over fishing rights.  The following is a rough translation of Daya’s thoughts:  ‘I am reminded of the Aggangnga Sutta when I think about people make claims on the fish in the sea.  I cannot understand how the fish could belong to the Indians or to us.  They belong to the ocean.  They were born and they exist but not to satisfy our hunger.  There are enough things in this good earth for us to consume; we don’t have to kill fish or any other creature.’

This is the real question of tenure but one which no one bothers to address.  Instead we have Tamil Nadu politicians up in arms over the way the Sri Lankan Navy treats fishermen from that Indian state. We have Sri Lankan fishermen who have strayed and are languishing in Indian jails like their Indian counterparts do in our jails. 

It is the contradictions that fascinate.  Tamil Nadu politicians often behave as though they love Sri Lankan Tamils more than Sri Lankan Tamils love themselves.  Sri Lankan Tamil politicians behave as though Tamil Nadu politicians are their saviors.  The fishermen themselves must wonder who their leaders really love; if they can love in the first instance of course. 

Now there are some hard facts that Tamil politicians on either side of the Palk Straits simply don’t want to talk about.  First, this was a non-issue while the LTTE was THE ISSUE in this corner of the Indian Ocean.  Both groups either loved the LTTE or were forced to claim that they loved the terrorist group.  At worst they would mutter ‘de facto sole voice of the Tamil people’.   During ‘LTTE Time’, the fish had a lovely time.  The fishermen didn’t have cause to complain and the politicians didn’t have to shoot accusing arrows in both directions on account of fishing brethren being ill-treated.  They simply didn’t fish.  They simply couldn’t take to the seas.  There was a war and it was fought as much on water as it was on land. 

But all that ended in May 2009. Now what?

Well, by and by, those who lived by the sea and believed they owned the lives of fish began to claim self-granted right. They went to sea.  They strayed, knowingly or unknowingly into ‘foreign waters’.  That’s how we came to where we are on the vexed question of fishing rights and all related issues. 

And yet, the TNA which so loves the Tamil people and believes the ‘Sinhala’ (sic) Government is out to do in the Tamils, not only does not say ‘thank you’ for creating conditions that allow these people to engage in chosen livelihood, but indulges in navel-gazing when they ought to be looking 

Jayalalitha and other in Tamil Nadu in the eye.  The Global Tamil Forum and other groups who toed Prabhakaran’s line and even now spend their time practicing Eelam-Speak, don’t seem to care about the plight of their fishing brethren.  Lesser citizens of the ‘traditional homelands’, are they?

We don’t know if the fish are aware of these political realities, but if they’ve studied the political and economic commerce between the two countries and are aware of the relevant rhetoric, AND if they could utter word, one can be sure they will whisper, ‘Hypocrites All!’   

msenevira@gmail.com

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