A tribute to D B S Jeyaraj
More
than twenty years ago, I had the opportunity to speak a few words with
the late Prof Carlo Fonseka. He was visiting the then Deputy Editor of
the ‘Island,’ my friend and batchmate at Peradeniya University Prabath
Sahabandu. I first met Prof Carlo in Boston when he visited his son
Suranga, who happened to be my housemate in Somerville. I introduced
myself and he recognised me. He was even familiar with my contributions
to the Sunday Island, especially the political commentary.
‘I read you for your style, not the substance,’ he said, chuckling.
I
wasn’t surprised, since we were not on the same page ideologically. It
made me feel good that he valued my style. So I laughed and made the
following observation.
‘Now, those whose substance you probably
read and like, they don’t write about class and they have no compulsion
to critique capitalism; I do,’ and I I laughed.
‘I know and I appreciate,’ he said soberly. No chuckles. No smiles.
I remembered Prof Carlo and that conversation a few days ago when I heard that D B S Jeyaraj had passed away.
I
never met DBS. I knew him though. As did thousands of people interested
in or indeed experiencing the tragic, reprehensible, enduring and
perhaps unavoidable political history of the past four decades and more.
We knew him because he wrote. Relentlessly.
He wrote. He paid a
massive price for writing. He was a victim of the riots either
orchestrated or tacitly supported by the UNP Government led by J R
Jayewardene. He suffered because he was a Tamil. He went into exile
because of the unbearable vulnerabilities produced by a government and
by so-called representatives of Tamil people who opted for armed
struggle to resolve grievances (as they defined them) and obtain
aspirations (again, as they defined them).
He lost everything,
one might say. Whatever property he possessed, the land of his birth,
the publications he managed and wrote for, and perhaps even the hope
that resolution of a kind he could be comfortable with. He had words.
He had his mind. He had his heart. These he defended ferociously, for
they constituted the ‘capital’ he could not live without.
I read Jeyaraj, not for style, but for substance.
I
was and am in awe at his ability to get information no other journalist
could. He knew the details. Names, places, what was done by whom,
where, how and when. I was and am in awe at the way he resisted
embellishment and refused to be selective. He got all the important
facts and he laid them out. He painted the main features of what was
unfolding.
He was sympathetic to what is inaccurately called
‘The National Question.’ ‘The Tamil Cause’ is not the same thing, but
the terms are used interchangeably (and carelessly). Regardless, he had
outcome preferences that most Tamils could agree with. I did not, and do
not. However, DBS did not condone unconscionable means on account of
these being tied, at least in rhetoric, to desired ends. This irked
those who thought otherwise. He was brutal in his criticism of
atrocities committed, whoever the perpetrators were. He irked many,
including the LTTE, who made DBS pay for the courage of his convictions.
They beat him, but he never bent.
There’s a faint recollection,
however, that DBS tended to be a tad soft on the LTTE whenever the
organisation was strong, but relentlessly critical when they were not. I
could be wrong, because I didn’t read everything DBS wrote back then.
Overall, I feel his political positions were mostly informed by the
plight of Tamil people, especially those in conflict zones.
Some
may call him an Eelamist. I wouldn’t know. He did advocate devolution
of power and didn’t really address the politics of boundaries. He
implicitly went along with the Eelam map. So when he advocated
devolution, it is understandable, I believe, that those who questioned
such ideologically-cast maps and boundaries see him as an unwitting cog
in a separatist project. I doubt that he saw himself as such.
A
few years ago, when I heard that DBS was in Sri Lanka, I reached out to
him. I only had his email address. I wrote and said that I would love to
meet him for a chat. He replied immediately, apologetically, saying
that he had planned only to meet relatives and close friends. I think we
exchanged a few emails at the time. He said that he had come to a point
where the maximum that could be expected would be the full
implementation of the 13th Amendment and that he wasn’t too hopeful of
that happening either.
All of that is interpretation. Comment. We
could disagree. We could argue, each drawing from facts and
extrapolating as per ideological convictions and outcome preferences.
That too would come under ‘substance,’ but the full complement of
substance when it comes to DBS is mostly about information. About facts.
He was relentless in unearthing these. He was meticulous in the pursuit
of details. He was a careful and honest sorter of information. We could
discard the frills, if you will, of style and commentary, but it would
be a challenge to dispute the facts that DBS laid before us.
DBS
is no more. He didn’t set out to teach, but there are lessons in what
he wrote and the ways in which he wrote. I would argue that the full
corpus of his writings constitute a veritable school of journalism which
places the highest value on the dictum, ‘facts are sacred, comment
free.’
So he has passed. So he remains. So he teaches. We have his word(s) for it.
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