Let us exhume, ladies and gentlemen!

When the koha calls we know it is avurudu. When certain names are mentioned over and over again, we know elections are around the corner. Yes, Thajudeen, Lasantha and Ekneligoda. Throw in Keith Noyahr and Upali Tennekoon if you like. And of course white vans.  The first two were killed. The third disappeared. Keith and Upali were attacked; Keith in fact might well have been killed had not it been for the untiring efforts of the CEO of the newspaper house he worked for at the time. They both live in other countries now.

All of these things happened when Mahinda Rajapaksa was the President, his brother Gotabhaya was the Secretary, Ministry of Defence and Sarath Fonseka was the Army Commander.  It was natural that they became poster boys of all political campaigns of the United National Party (UNP) and its allies. 

There’s a problem though. Well, two problems certainly (and probably more). First, in the case of the first three, they are all dead. There’s a need to bring to justice their killers. There’s a need for truth to triumph over deceit, lies, foot-dragging and duplicity. There is a need for ‘exhumation’ literally and of course metaphorically. And yet, there’s a certain indecency that borders on or moves into the despicable in exhumation and burial followed by re-exhumation and re-burial ad nauseam. 

There’s a second issue that also demonstrates disrespect for the dead. Selectivity.  

It is not unnatural, just as the Rajapaksa-haters do, for those who are against this regime to dig up the past. They too can talk of abductions. They too can talk of extra judicial killings. They can talk of proxy arrests, torture, the operative equivalent of ’white-vans’ in the late eighties, the tyre pyres’ and the numerous vigilante groups. Then there was censorship. 

It’s all old hat. Right? Wrong. For two reasons (and possibly more). First, the perpetrators of those crimes, their approvers or staunch loyalists of the relevant parties, are all still around. Secondly, THAT time has been invoked by a would-be presidential candidate of the United National Party (UNP), Sajith Premadasa. 

So let’s get some perspective here. 

There’s ‘concern’ over Lt Gen Shavendra Silva being appointed as Army Commander. Who is upset? Well, officially, the USA, Canada, the EU and the UNHRC. Two thing (and possibly more). First, that’s our business. Second, the cause of concern that they’ve stated, ‘accused of war crimes,’ is as of now just an allegation. We assume innocence until guilt is proven. That’s what the Book of the West (aka ‘Book of the White Man’) says. 

Second, these ladies and gentlemen had no issues whatsoever when Barack Obama literally ‘oversaw’ the capture and murder of Osama bin Laden. Extra-judicial killing. Same goes for Col Gaddafi. 

Ok, here’s a third. Ranil Wickremesinghe is accused of overseeing terrible events in 88-89. Did any of these people or rather their predecessors in the relevant country or UN agency ever express similar concern? 

No. Ok?

Censorship? There was a name that was known to all journalists. Ariya Rubasinghe. He facilitated the production of the strangest newspapers in the world: full of entire columns, boxed off in black. Censored. That however hardly warranted ‘concern’. There was much worse. 

Right. Let’s talk exhumation.  For that, there has to be burial, but let’s take liberties and extend it to incineration. Cremation, if you want to be cute about it. Yes, all this has to be preceded by ‘death’. And so, there are names. 

Wimal Surendra. Photojournalist of the ‘Divaina’. Abducted, murdered. His helmet was found in the house of a prominent UNPer and a minister in the present cabinet. He took a photograph of a ‘lady’ playing netball. Was that his ‘crime’?

H.E. Dayananda, a freelance contributor for the ‘Divaina’ who wrote a column titled ‘vame kathava’ (The story of the Left). Killed outside the petrol shed on Union Place. 

Richard De Zoysa. Poet. TV presenter. Dramatist. Abducted. Killed. 

Rohana Wijeweera was captured, allegedly tortured, tossed into the incinerator at the Borella Cemetary AND BURNT ALIVE. 

Add to all this, 10,000 Thajudeens, 10,000 Ekneligodas, Noyahrs and Tennekoons, but let us not forget Rohana Wijeweera.

No issue there? No concern? All ok? Alright! 

Then we have what the ‘revolutionaries’ did, i.e. the uncles of Anura Kumara Dissanayake and the brothers of Tilvin Silva. They showed the way to their long lost but later found cousins in the UNP.  Here's a very, very short list: Nandalal Fernando, Harsha Abeywardena, Premakeerthi De Alwis, Sagarika Gomes, Prof Stanley Wijesundera, Lionel Jayatilleka, Vijaya Kumaratunga, Thevis Guruge, Prof Chandraratne Patuvatavithana, Daya Pathirana, A. Jayantha, Chandrawimala, Devabandara Senanayake. 

Was Chandrika Kumaratunga 'clean'? Ask Rohana Kumara. Wait. He was 'done in' during her tenure. Dead men don't talk. 

But that’s the story of abduction, torture, murder, burial/cremation and ‘exhumation’ ladies and gentlemen. You either want the entire sordid story or else you want none of it. If you want some of it, then you are indulging in political humbuggery. Seriously. Thajudeen, Lasantha, Ekneligoda, Richard, Wimal, Rohana and of course the 10,000 plus Thajudeens, 10,000 plus Lasanthas and 10,000 plus Ekneligodas who are just numbers and not names and whose memories deserve something better than this burying-exhuming circus that we are seeing come election time.

malindasenevi@gmail.com, www.malindawords.blogspot.com

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Rohana Wijeweera’s fading political signature

He still makes it to the 'May Day Stage'.  Barely.

Twenty five years ago a man was killed.  He was one of some 60,000 who had been killed in those gruesome days of the late eighties.  It is reported that he had been tortured and shot.  It is reported that he was still alive when he was tossed into the incinerator at the General Cemetery, Borella.  This was at the tail end of the second insurrection launched by the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP). 

By this time, most of the key leaders had been eliminated.  The rank and file was decimated along with hundred of suspected supporters.  It was a time of abduction and torture, proxy arrests and trigger-happy vigilante groups, assassination of political figures, academics and journalists, and summary execution.  It was a time of courage and foolhardiness; a time when acts of terrorism by self-styled ‘revolutionaries’ was met by acts of terrorism by the State.  It was a time of anarchy which effectively ended with that particular murder.    

Rohana Wijeweera, hero for some and villain for many, left a signature on the political landscape of post-independence Sri Lanka.  There is the fact of masterminding two (failed) insurrectionary assaults on the state.  The JVP, as Dr Gamini Samaranayake has argued, also demonstrated that armed insurrection was an option and that the state was not ready.  It’s a lesson that no one learned better than the LTTE. A lesson that was never learned was this: the state, over time, corrects for deficiency and prevails unless there’s a mass uprising that complements or there is pernicious outside intervention by forces far superior.  The last ‘combine’ does not deliver revolution but further subjugation (e.g. Arab Spring). 

‘Rohana Wijeweera’ is a doctoral dissertation waiting to be written, a novel that could be an adventure story, a horror story or even a comedy.  Such was his historical presence from the late sixties to the late eighties.  And yet, he has not inspired ‘rebels’ who came later in the way their preferred heroes such as Che Guevara or José Martí have.  This could be because of the kind of rebel he was.

He could deliver a stirring speech which could excite sections of the youth made more of heart than mind.  He was not endowed with a great intellect but was nevertheless a good strategist – knew to pick the slogan of the moment.  He was never in battle fatigues, so to speak.  He had nothing of the courage and sense of sacrifice the men he led possessed.  In 1971 he was essentially an adventurist.  In 88-89 he showed signs of megalomania.  Such men don’t inspire. 

The post-Wijeweera JVP does little more than acknowledge a political presence.  In rhetoric, ideological assertion and practice, the present set of leaders have effectively distanced themselves from the man, his methods and even his vision.  They have all but abandoned the class project which Wijeweera the Populist at least paid lip service to and even convinced many young people it was everything to the JVP. 

Twenty five years later, the party still has the Wijeweera signature.  Red.  The Bell symbol.  Great May Day shows.  Poster-boys.  A university presence large enough to play spoiler on occasion.   An ability to show a strong commitment to discipline.  The thrust however, in circumstances that gradually declined after the 2004 ‘peak’ of some 40 MPs, has been about saving face.  They still have a fixation with the streets but it’s something that seems more of a throwback to a romantic time than anything else.  They have union strength.  Just can’t seem to put it all together.  It could be put down to ideological confusion, intellectual poverty or dismissal by the population in general or a combination of these.  

There were ‘highs’ no doubt.  The JVP pushed through the 17^th Amendment.  The JVP helped Mahinda Rajapaksa become President, in hindsight a necessary (though not sufficient) condition for eliminating the LTTE.  But then again, they suffered the same fate that befell the ‘Old Left’.  The stronger coalition partner remained unmoved by demands and the weaker had to split.   

There was always a cloak-n-dagger faction, apparently.  There was also the nationalist faction that was not impressed with the JVP’s Marxist pretensions.  Both factions went their separate ways.  What was left is committed to mainstream democratic politics, good for a few parliamentary seats and for putting up posters in regime-change adventures but not much else.

Rohana Wijeweera is no more.  He left a trail of blood.  His JVP could destabilize. For a while.  The JVP that came after has had its ups and downs, threatened to score a couple of times but was either tackled or dropped the ball.  They are mild when it comes to political engagement.  No strong arm tactics except where they have some degree of power (the universities).  They’ve put to shame their colleagues from other parties when it comes to parliamentary conduct.   Overall a plus score that eluded the founder. 

If the JVP is still politically relevant it is not because of Rohana Wijeweera but in spite of him.  That says a lot about the political legacy and of course the historical significance of the man.  Dead and rarely lamented.  Irrelevant, someone might add. 

 

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‘Wijeweera’s Daughter’

The title of a tragic novel that might never get written

The families of failed revolutionaries (or terrorists, extremists and insurgents if you prefer that nomenclature) tend to be a far cry from beds of roses, especially if the particular individual has perished in battle.  The near and dear of those who are successful in capturing power are talked about.  Others fade away and become less and less newsworthy. 

In the aftermath of the LTTE military leadership being vanquished, there was curiosity about Prabhakaran’s parents. For a while.  Ironically (and thanks to painstaking efforts to twist context for the purpose of myth-making and mythologizing) enduring newsworthiness was obtained more from the dead, especially the terrorist leader’s younger son’s dead body. 

The families of other slain LTTE leaders, in particular S.P. Thamilselvan and Sea Tiger chief Soosai, interestingly were accorded the privilege of leaving the LTTE-held narrow neck of land without pain of punishment (others were shot at in order to discourage).  We know that the Sri Lankan Government takes care of them, that they live in comfort and gratitude and that the children are adequately insulated from the bloody history their fathers forged over several decades. They attend good schools and go about sans stigma of any kind. 

But what of the JVP leader’s family?  Rohana Wijeweera was apprehended on November 12, 1989. He was at the time posing off as a planter, living in Kotmale using the name ‘Attanayake’.  He was shot dead under suspicious circumstances a couple of days later.  At the time, he had 5 children, four girls and a boy who was the youngest. His wife Chitrangani was pregnant with his sixth child. 

Twenty four years have passed.  With the assassination of Wijeweera followed by the crushing of insurrection, public attention shifted to other things.  We’ve had three Presidents after the man who presided over the decimation of the JVP was himself killed. We had 4 general elections.  A thirty year long war was ended. A debilitating tsunami served to obliterate a lot of things, not just landscapes.  Chitrangani and her children were naturally forgotten.

The news since 1989 was sketchy. It was reported that the family, spurned by their own relatives, were forced to seek shelter with the Army and later the Navy.  They lived in relative obscurity in Trincomalee. The children did reasonably well in school and passed their exams.  They were moved to better schools in Colombo.  A surprise visit by Mahinda Rajapaksa when he was Minister of Fisheries had resulted, it is said, in the family being moved to the Navy facility in Welisara. 

A few years ago Wijeweera’s family stirred public interest again; this was on the occasion of the second daughter getting married.  The newsworthiness came from the fact that leaders of the breakaway group led by Wimal Weerawansa arriving at the function, upon invitation of course.  The party had done what they could for the family, apparently, supporting Chitrangani and the children financially and helping them organize the wedding.  Tempers naturally were frayed.  That’s news.  Wijeweera’s family, however, were incidental to the story.  Happened. Faded away. 

And then, just the other day, they made news again.  The eldest daughter was arrested by the Police following a complaint made by Chitrangani.  The girl, now 32, unmarried, apparently got into an argument with her brother and assaulted him as well as her mother who had tried to intervene. 

That day of assault, however, was not random.  This girl, Eesha, probably the only one in the family who was fully cognizant of the tragedy that befell them in November 1989, is said to have been as or more intelligent and studious as her siblings.  There was a difference, however.  She was wont to stare into space, to try count the stars in the night sky and spend long hours outside their ‘quarters’ in the Trincomalee Naval Base in complete silence.  According to her mother, Eesha was a ‘difficult’ child, given to long bouts of brooding and ever ready to pick a fight with her siblings.  She would lash out with tongue and fist, we are made to understand.  On one occasion she had swallowed a fistful of pills that was part of her mother’s medication.  That would count as a suicide attempt. She had to be flown to Colombo for treatment after she lost consciousness. 

Then this. 

There is of course only so much that anyone can do, the State included. The party has done what it could.  The Government has intervened.  Apart from Eesha, the other children have grown up, educated themselves and are leading normal lives.  A lot to be thankful for, one might say, given circumstances.  And then again there would be many who would find no reason to pity or be generous, considering all the children orphaned, all the families torn apart and all the lives laid waste by the acts of their father.  Just as the terrible tragedy of a 12 year old boy called Balachandran being shot dead is ‘dismissed’ by referring to the crimes his father is guilty of. 

Children, however, are not to be blamed.  We do not know if this girl’s condition was wrought by ordeals she had to contend with at a tender age or if it was due to something totally unconnected to that tragic turn of events.  All we know is that Wijeweera is dead.  The girl had no father figure in her growing up years.  As unfortunate as any other fatherless girl.  As deserving of attention.  Not because who she is but in spite of who she is. 

Bottom line.  She didn’t get closure.  Her father bears responsibility. We do too. 

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