Are you a parasite or an oasis in a desert?

Ask not what your country can do for you; ask instead what you can do for your country. Yes, it is a famous quote. US President, John F. Kennedy made this famous statement on citizens’ responsibility during his inauguration speech in 1961. It was not quite as original as a lot of people made it out to be though.

The line is drawn from something written by Khalil Gibran 36 years earlier, titled ‘The New Frontier’. This is what Gibran wrote: “Are you a politician asking what your country can do for you or a zealous one asking what you can do for your country? If you are the first, then you are a parasite; if the second, then you are an oasis in a desert.”

Kennedy, then, didn’t just ‘borrow’: he turned what he borrowed on its head. Gibran was pointing finger at politician and Kennedy, a politician, was throwing the line back at citizen. Nations are made not just of leaders and therefore there’s nothing wrong in Kennedy tossing the ball back to the people. In general, though, there is no harm in asking ourselves every now and then whether we’ve done for the country what we could do.

And it doesn’t have to be ‘country’. It can be community, organization, neighbourhood or any other collective entity we are associated with. It’s something anyone can do; politicians, doctors, teachers, students, garbage collectors, policemen, pedestrians, farmers, consumers, ruggerites, officials, arbiters, coaches, commentators or friends. About eight months ago, I wrote about our responsibilities. On Friday, someone I know asked me to draft a ‘service letter’. To those who don’t know about ‘service letters’, they are what heads of institutions give employees who are quitting or moving to another department in the same organization. I asked her, ‘koheda yanne?’ (where are you going?). She said she was migrating to Australia.

I am not against people migrating. I just wish, however, that they are aware of ‘responsibilities’ when they make such decisions. Well, ‘debts’ actually, more than ‘responsibilities’.

I asked her the following questions: Where were you born? What hospital? Which schools did you attend? Do you have a degree and if so from which university? Where were your children born? What schools do they attend? In which hospitals were your children born? From which banks have you taken loans and if you have were there concessions because you work in a Government department?

The purpose, as you would guess, was to ascertain the extent to which she is aware of how much she’s been subsidized by the State and therefore the people of this country. I wanted to know if she was aware that bucks were spent to ‘create’ the person who she is now. I wanted to know if she felt any guilt about leaving after a few years of ‘serving the people’, where her decision was (dis)coloured by the consideration of the fact that the State gave her free textbooks, uniforms and midday meals. I asked her a question: ‘naya gevala ivarai kiyalada hithanne?’ (Do you think you’ve finished paying your debts?). I drafted the ‘service letter’ for her and went to have a cup of tea.

I like to read something whenever I have a cup of tea and even when I am eating. Bad habit, I know. Even if I am in one of those street-corner eating places, I would take a piece of ‘wiping-paper’ from the cylindrical containers they keep on each table and read. Even if it is just an advertisement. I picked a piece. A section of page 16 of the Lankadeepa of January 25, 2010. It was a story about a man called D.M. Wimaladasa, aka D.M. Juvanis Appuhamy of Pitamaaruwa, Meegahakivula, a father of three, a little over 50 years of age.

The title said it all: Palaath sabhavatath rajayatath barak node gamata enna paarak thanai (Built a road to the village without burdening the Provincial Council or the State). Wimaladasa is a humble villager, who had earlier worked in several state institutions and now grows vegetables for a living. It took him two years to cut this road with the help of some villagers. He did this even as his neighbours teased and insulted him, called him a lunatic. That road does not have a name. Indeed he had been very reluctant to tell his story to the journalist, Nishantha Kumara of Viyaluwa.

Wimaladasa says that the teachers in his village school in Pitamaaruwa didn’t give them an education so they could find employment: ‘Apata igennuwe rekiya karannama newei’ (not just to find a job). The ‘teaching’ was simple: ‘honda minihek wela ratata samaajayata barak nowee inna’ (to become a good person and live without being a burden to society or the country). That’s Gibranian, isn’t it? Kenndian? Does the label matter?

Wimaladasa asked himself a question and answered it. The migrating graduate probably asked herself some questions too, but there’s one question she did not ask: have I paid my debts?

Someone has been a parasite and someone else an oasis in a desert. We all are one or the other and in most cases one and the other. Could we resolve to be less parasitical and more oasis-like? Shall we try?

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The NPC Resolution is both a threat and an opportunity

Canagasabapathy Visuvalingam Wigneswaran has a lot of opinions.  To him, Velupillai Prabhakaran is a hero.  He is entitled to that view – after all some people swear by god and some by the devil.  C.V. Wigneswaran is not thanking anyone for the fact that he can actually issue statements from Jaffna without getting them vetted by a hooligan.  That’s ok too. 

He is probably the architect of a resolution titled ‘Final proposals for finding a political solution to the Tamil National Question, and passed by the Northern Provincial Council, which he heads.   The resolution (title and content both) could be called presumptuous, tendentious and even hilarious (to some), but then again it is expected, given Wigneswaran’s track record as well as that of moderate (sic) Tamil politicians and political parties.  Moreover, it is a democratically expressed proposal and as such legitimate. 

No doubt the document will be ripped apart for falsehoods, exaggerations and absolute impractical nature of its proposals.  The very fact that the Northern provincial entity assumes the right to speak for the people of the East itself indicates the land-grabbing intent that runs through the document and which of course has framed Tamil chauvinistic discourse for decades and which, let us not forget, is the bread and butter of politicians such as Wigneswaran. 

Some might say (generously) that it is but a product of ‘Sinhala nationalism’, but the truth or otherwise of such claims notwithstanding it is in and of itself a boost for that very same ideology. Nationalisms feed off one another.  It remains to be seen if the ardent critics of Sinhala nationalism who say ‘it is the last refuge of scoundrels’ will call Wigneswaran a crook, rascal, good-for-nothing, blackguard, caitiff, reprobate, villain, mischiefmaker, bad egg, incorrigible, scamp or scalawag. Tribalist too, of course.  

I consider the Resolution both a threat and an opportunity.  It is a threat, because it appeals to the same kind of extremist sentiments that the Batakotte (aka Vadukkoddai) Resolution of May 14, 1976 targeted.  We know that the political processes it prompted ended in the Nandikadaal Lagoon 33 years later almost to the date and that probably 200,000 people had to die. For nothing.  The architects of that Resolution perished in the process, one notes. 

However, the tragedy cannot be blamed on the architects of the 1976 Resolution alone.  That moment constituted an opportunity, as my friend Pradeep Jeganathan mentioned a few years ago.  Anyone can promise a constituency the sun, the moon and the stars, but that alone does not constitute reason enough for casual dismissal.  Regardless of the tall stories, the exaggerations and the out-of-this-world nature of aspirations, democracy calls for a sober and rational engagement with anyone and everyone and especially a political entity that has the backing of any significant segment of the population.  This didn’t happen back then.  There’s no reason why it should not happen now.

One of the main reasons for continuing inter-communal mistrust and even hatred is the absence of dialogue or (in a sense) worse, the reduction of ‘dialogue’ to a shouting match where debating points (half truths) replace logical consideration and rebuttal of claims.  In my view, the NPC has done the Tamil community a massive disservice by a frilling that has all but obliterated legitimate grievances.  When the grievances and aspirations of a community are laid out in the quicksand of fiction, they get buried pretty fast.  But that is a problem that the particular political community has to deal with.  The question is, what is the Government going to do about it?

The easy response is to say ‘anyone can say anything’.  That’s being said, by the way, by way of alleviating the apprehensions of the Sinhalese and to mitigate possible political opposition.  On the other hand, that kind of dismissal, coupled with little or no serious engagement, gives legitimacy to the claim that ‘the Sinhalese (sic) ignored us’.  True, you can’t ask for the moon and in the event that the request is rubbished or ignored, there’s no logic in saying ‘we asked democratically and there was no response, so we are taking up arms’.  However, it is important that even those who consider all this a bluff (and I count myself among such people) respond less with emotion than with reason.  The Government, for its part, must engage as a matter of utmost urgency if not for any other reason than the violence which non-engagement with the 1976 Resolution helped precipitate.

Simply put, the NPC Resolution has to be considered line by line, from preamble to proposal with all the ‘recollections’, ‘notes’, ‘acknowledgments’ etc. therein. We need to separate fact from fiction, history from myth, evidence from conjecture, so that the preamble is shed of all rhetoric and frill and the true dimensions of the so-called ‘Tamil National Question’ can be obtained.  Thereafter, everything in the proposal predicated on frill and rhetoric, will have to be rewritten or abandoned. 

This is not and should not be a yes or no matter, it is not and should not be something to be either embraced or dumped in a waste paper basket.  It has to be accepted not as the ‘basis for negotiation’ but an articulation of a particular position.  For example, the Resolution refers to the Thimpu Principles as being ‘cardinal’.  There is nothing ‘cardinal’ in anything except those documents that seek the preemption of discussion.  This is, unfortunately, such a document, but given histories referred to above and most importantly the fact that the Government is mandated to ensure the security and wellbeing of all citizens, such careless wording has to be treated as ‘inevitable’ from the likes of Wigneswaran.  The Tamil people as well as the rest of the population cannot be made to pay for the violence that such carelessness can engender.  For this reason and this reason alone, Wigeneswaran must be indulged. 

Let the NPC Resolution, then, be taken as an opportunity to have the discussion that has not taken place, i.e. the exercise to determine the true dimensions of grievances and pave the way for the resolution that such determination alone can yield. 

Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer. www.malindawords.blogspot.com.  Email: malindasenevi@gmail.com.  Twitter: malindasene.  

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Those who are worthy of salutation and those who are not

It was brought to my notice many months after this was written (first published in April 2010) that an organization referred to in the article below had interpreted it as a 'fatwa'.  Representatives of the outfit ranted and raved in certain socialist/left circles but tellingly did not include a reference to the article.  

Someone once said that 99 percent of the Opposition can be purchased and that the remaining 1 percent must be eliminated, meaning killed. I don’t know how correct these numbers are, but in general it seems that a lot of people are easily bought. Everyone has a price, but some sell themselves cheap. And it is not about money either. Some choose to throw in the towel out of sheer laziness, some out of fear and some because they are intimidated by the associated challenges.

The 1 percent is ‘special’ not on account of purity of objective or means adopted, but commitment to cause.

The Samaajavadi Samaanatha Pakshaya (Socialist Equality Party) and its previous avatar ‘Viplavavaadi Komiyunist Sangamaya’ (Revolutionary Communist League, better known by its Sinhala acronym, ‘VIKOSA’) comes to mind. I am talking in particular about people like Nanda Wickramasinghe (‘Wicks’ to his comrades and ‘Podi Wicks’ to his contemporaries at Peradeniya who had to differentiate him from the other ‘Wicks’ who came to be known as ‘Pol Wicks’) and Wije Dias.

People might think they are crazy but there’s something of value in being uncompromising, provided of course that you are honest in both affiliation and articulation. That’s what is called ‘courage of your convictions’ I believe.

This is not to say that one should rush into danger without thinking of the consequences. There are practicalities of course. The honest political agent will acknowledge that there is reason to be circumspect and that a decision to be cautious is arrived at by a comprehensive consideration of all factors and the possible outcome of particular options in terms of the overall political objective.

What is the glory, I wonder, of being ‘radical’ behind closed doors? What is the glory of preaching to the converted? What is the glory of going to seminars and workshops where organisers bring friends and family to make up numbers and with the promise of a free lunch and what not? What is the glory of hiding behind beg words and technical terms? What is the glory of turning tail the moment someone stares you down and then going to safer territories where debate is choreographed before hand? Do people really think they are being politically effective when instead of refuting argument engage in name-calling?

On February 24, 2006, in Celigy, Switzerland, waiting for the post-talks press conference to start following discussions between the Government of Sri Lanka and the LTTE, I asked Jehan Perera how his outfit (National Peace Council) would fare if funding dried up. He said that all operations would stop. Now contrast this with the efforts of a man called Nalin de Silva who for more than a decade wrote week after week in the Divaina, Island and Vidusara and succeeded in turning idea into ideology and turned a view that had marginal support into the dominant position in the country. That’s courage. Commitment. Certainly worthy of salute.

There are heroes in the academic world and there are pedestrians. There are giants who take a stand, articulate position regardless of hostility-level of the audience and there are dwarfs who first check out comfort-levels before speaking. There are those who are lions when there is no one around but slink away when in unfamiliar territory.

Who are the real heroes and who are the cardboard pretenders? It is easy to find out, isn’t it? Check out where they hang out, what kinds of forums they inhabit, their dodging-expertise and you will find their purchase price. Nine times out of ten I would venture that they have a pretty low selling price.

My friend Anuruddha Pradeep, a lecturer in Political Science at the Sri Jayawardenapura University used to tell me that most of the federalists can be bought over. He was essentially repeating the 99-1 theory.

Speaking of the federalists and those who are shy of using the f-word and therefore take refuge in the term ‘devolution’ or call it ‘13 Plus’ (meaning ‘something more than the 13th Amendment’), they had their day in the sun. Those who opposed them didn’t have the money or the political power.

They had one thing: solid arguments. They had an idea and it became an ideology. It won the day. That’s the difference between the ‘nationalists’ and, say, VIKOSA. VIKOSA has a world view but one that is constructed, in my opinion, on a false set of premises.

And yet, I can’t help admiring the likes of Podi Wicks and Wije Dias when I consider the Eelamists in federalist and lesser costumes relevant to reduced circumstances. They will state their case regardless of how hostile the audience is. And they are not purchasable.

There is a difference between the LTTE and VIKOSA. The former talked with guns, the latter with words. VIKOSA people argue. They will call you names if you disagree, but they would in the end agree to disagree. They will not make excuses for poor logic or inability to substantiate. They will not dodge an argument. They will not take refuge in the classical out of dismissing question with a whine or a tag such as ‘rubbish’. When asked to substantiate claim, they will not run away or come up with patently third-class interjections such as ‘it goes without saying’. They will not use descriptives such as ‘disreputable’ unless they can prove the point.

There are those who use such 10th Grade debating techniques in any society. They have their moments too. Yes, ‘moments’. Here now, then gone. That’s their story. There are people who can be purchased.

There are people who sell themselves cheap. There are cowards. They are those who pay with their lives to defend the truths they subscribe to. There are men and women worthy of admiration for some qualities and men and women who are pedestrian. I choose to salute Podi Wicks and Wije Dias. They are politically honest. Un-purchasable. That says something in these free-market days. 

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So, shall we 'outlive the bastards'?

Guard your honour. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards. - Lois McMaster Bujold, author

Elections are tense events, more so for those seeking political office than for those who elect them. First of all there are the anxieties suffered by individual political parties, especially those that are not frontrunners and indeed face the real threat of being wiped out. Then we have the individuals, both among the favourites and the probable losers. They spend scandalous amounts of money and wonder if they will get elected.

The tension must have risen during the counting of preferential votes. Counting takes time and since candidates who end up lower down in the list and out of the list typically ask for recounts it takes almost 48 hours after the polls close for us to find out who will represent us in Parliament, i.e. long after we know how many seats each party has, who is going to form the Government etc.

Indeed, there are lots of horror stories circulating regarding how the count was done with some (the losers, naturally) claiming that there were individuals who had lost in the initial count but had somehow got the numbers necessary to enter Parliament in subsequent counts. I am not in a position to claim that there has been wrongdoing, but I believe that there is sufficient doubt in the minds of the general public to warrant a thorough investigation.

It is not an inter-party issue of course. Whether Candidate X from Party A is in or out won’t change the political complexion of the Parliament; Party A will continue to have a P number of MPs and Party B will still have a Q number. The problem is whether or not Candidate X was robbed by Candidate Y (both being from Party A).

It seems to me that taken as a whole politicians and the voters (yes, we vote them in, the good, the bad, the ugly, the crooked, the thugs, the racketeers, the traitors) missed the moral but somewhere down the line. Sure, one can take solace in the performance of the non-spenders or the less-spenders.

One can calculate cost-per-voter and re-assess the popularity level of individual candidates and feel happy that Candidate C and Candidate R who ran clean(er) campaign did far better than Candidate D and Candidate W who did not want to differentiate between campaigning and vandalizing. Still, by and large, these are pitiful consolation prizes, aren’t they? Well, guess what, it’s we who give ourselves prizes and if we were dumb enough to be swayed by strong arms and show of wealth, then we cannot complain.

I still maintain that we’ve lost our way. In Colombo, for example, there were a few people who didn’t have a ghost of a chance. They campaigned to the extent they felt was necessary. They didn’t whine and weep. It was always going to get ugly at the margin, i.e. between those who were barely ‘in’ at any of the counts and those who out just ‘out’. They fought. And they tore each others clothes and this not being enough rippled off whatever remained in their own attire.

Overall, as I have argued many times over the past few months, we have got just consolation prizes and I wonder at times if we as a people even deserve these little crumbs that the political process toss towards us.

We are a nation and a society that can do much better. After all, did we not defeat the world’s most ruthless terrorist outfit, recover from two bloody insurrections and a devastating tsunami and have we not refused to go under even after 32 years of the J R Jayewardene constitution? We are a resilient nation, yes, but in the matter of being circumspect in our political decisions we’ve not exactly done ourselves proud, have we?

I think we can do better and this is why I believe it won’t any of us to think a little about the Bujold quote above. Let me repeat: ‘Guard your honour. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards.’

Depending on where one stands politically and what one’s ‘ideal scenario’ is, one would call different people ‘bastard’ of course, but the drift is clear. We have to dig in, take the bouncers, watch for swing, late and otherwise, and wait until the sun is out and the pitch dries out. This is not a 20-20 match or even a one-dayer. It is a Test.

Twenty eight years ago, writing a piece about scouting at Royal for a souvenir commemorating the 40th anniversary of 42nd Colombo, my father made this recommendation which I have gone back to a countless number of times since:

‘And so, if it is not prudent to stand ramrod straight in the fact of storms beyond your strength, you have to let them pass over you. Stand firm if you can, retreat if you must. Above all, never panic.’

Some people are impatient. They panic. They drown. Even as they are crowned in the capital and hailed as benefactors of humankind regardless of all the blood that has flowed and flowed (ref: Dostoyevsky, ‘Crime and Punishment’).

We got to outlive the ‘bastards’ (I don’t like the term, by the way, for all children are ‘legitimate’). And this includes, the bastards within ourselves.

This article was first published in the Daily News and was titled 'Honour, reputation and outliving...' on April 26, 2010.

Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer who contributes a weekly column titled 'Subterranean Transcripts' for the Daily Mirror.  Email: malindasenevi@gmail.com. Twitter: malindasene

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