History is written by the winners, this is well
known. In other words, chronicling is an
exercise that is framed by power realities.
Those who win and those who wield power frequently bend the story in
ways that glorify them. It is the
exceptional historian that would paint things in colours closest to the truth
and resist embellishment as well as footnoting or even blanking out. The author of the Mahawansa, or the Great
Chronicle, is an exception.
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Today, the business of reporting is exactly that; a business.
Those who have power are able to frill as well as well as ignore and thereby
offer versions that appear to be true but in fact are a fair distance from
accurate reportage.
On the other hand, even the most meticulous
chronicler tends to conflate nation or collective with personality and regime,
with scarce mention of the complexities contained within broad categories. Wars are won and lost by leaders and nations,
not soldiers and populations.
In Sri Lanka, naturally, it is the political and
military leadership that won the major share of accolades for ending a 30 year
struggle. The troops and many who
contributed in non-military ways were duly recognized. Some were honoured with
word. Some were rewarded materially, with medal, promotion, house and
diplomatic position. In time, these
names will fade and only the names of the political and military leadership
will be remembered. Unavoidable. Few apart from immediate family and other
loved one will remember the dead of the defeated, the names of the leaders
being the exception.
There was heroism.
It is however not the preserve of the victor. There are those who fight valiantly and die
or are maimed on all sides of every conflict.
There are courageous people in lost causes too. History generally tends to un-note them or
else frame courage or heroism in political terms, i.e. mentioning the
‘treacherous’ nature of the cause and leadership on behalf of whom that heroism
found expression.
It is easy to pin ‘lunatic’ on a suicide bomber, for
example. An individual ready to die for
a cause is certainly not ‘normal’ in that your average citizen would just not
put his or her hand up to die, even if there was identification with the cause
or the objective. ‘Brainwashed’ is an
easy tag too and perhaps not undeserving either. Still.
When I think that 100,000 people died over the last
30 years, that 60,000 did between 1988 and 1999 and that another 20,000
perished in 1971, I feel we have not won anything but in fact lost too
much. Even if we assume that just one
percent of this number (1,800) were endowed with courage, discipline and other
skills, that’s a massive blow to the overall human resources of a nation of our
size.
But apart from all this, I am wondering who would
ever chronicle the little acts of courage, heroism and humanity that went
beyond political and ideological commitment from among those who lost, the
vanquished. I remember that even today,
among the most memorable moments of the Olympic Games is the determined run by
the Sri Lankan running the marathon, even though he was placed last by several
laps. That was in 1960, the Tokyo
Games. He lost. Vanquished.
And yet, Ranatunga Karunaranda’s example continues to inspire. So too the image of Derek Redmond, limping to
complete the race after pulling his hamstring in the 400m race in
Barcelona.
We learn not just from the heroics of the winners,
but the courage of those who lost. They
all add colour and beauty to the rocky, flawed, tragic and nevertheless
remarkable human story, that tapestry we all weave thread into, whether we like
it or not.
I don’t know their identities. I might never know their stories. Perhaps all I will have is the fact that they
did exist and must have done something that made someone remember with
thanksgiving, even if that someone also perished in the losing cause.
Seven years ago, I asked a question: ‘If the
shattered pieces of a human bomb were put together, would we recover a trophy
called Triumph or a nondescript shell called Pathos?’
Seven years later, I don’t have a satisfactory
answer. Perhaps I am a fool to ponder
over questions such as this. All I know
is that I feel there’s something missing in the story and that knowing
might not hurt, but in fact empower and heal.
I am willing to compile, if you are willing to tell. That’s all I need to say about things lost in
the matter of winning and losing, as of now.
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