Terror and Reconciliation

by Maryse Jayasuriya

  There have been many scholarly articles that have dealt with Sri Lankan literary works about the ethnic conflict, such as articles by Rajiva Wijesinha, Neloufer de Mel, Neluka Silva, S.W. Perera, and Chelva Kanaganayakam. However, these articles, though illuminating, tend to focus on one author or on one text; therefore, little consideration has been given to the category of Sri Lankan literature in English as a whole and how the ethnic conflict has affected it.

  At first, critics did not hold much hope for Sri Lankan literature in English following the post-independence changes in the state language policies and the insistence of most writers of English literature on focusing on life in rural areas. In the early 1970s, the influential Sri Lankan scholar Ashley Halpé (qtd. 1983), for instance, had argued that “the prognosis for creative writing in English is gloomy” (3) and had even gone so far as to say that the Sri Lankans who engaged in English creative writing would write in Sinhala or Tamil if they only could. Ten years later, Halpé and other prominent critics such as Goonetilleke and Yasmine Gooneratne were more hopeful in the aftermath of the 1971 insurrection, which, they agreed, challenged the English-speaking class out of its complacency and marked a turning point in Sri Lankan English literature. By the 1990s, however, Goonetilleke had concluded that the initial promise shown by Sri Lankan writers in English following the insurrection had not been realized, judging from the works they produced about the ethnic conflict:

  The writers in English are obviously on the sidelines, sensitive souls responding to a situation engendered by politicians, who are not likely to consider their viewpoints, and by militants and soldiers who do not read the language in which they write and in any case would not be influenced by either the pity or the propaganda of a comfortable and cushioned class who share neither their privations nor their perceptions. (“Sri Lanka’s ‘Ethnic Conflict’” 451)

  What Goonetilleke is identifying here as the drawback of Sri Lankan writers in English is their apparent alienation from the common people’s experience of the ethnic crisis, which prevents the writers from presenting “the actual conflict in all its complexity, with its tangled web of wrongs—economic, political and physical—perpetrated not by one side or the other but both” (453). As I have argued above, Sri Lankan writers in English have indeed been exposed to the effects of the ethnic conflict, especially as a result of their conspicuous cultural hybridity. One has only to consider the case of some of the writers whose works I will be discussing in later chapters: Arasanayagam, a Burgher married to a Tamil, was forced to seek sanctuary in a refugee camp with her family during the race riots of 1983. Selvadurai, the son of a Tamil father and a Sinhalese mother, had to flee the country after the family home was destroyed during the same period. The risk of living in a country wracked by constant violence was re-emphasized by the death of Nihal de Silva, a Sinhalese, who was killed in a landmine explosion in June 2006. Even the writers whose lives have not been as radically affected by the ethnic conflict as Arasanayagam, Selvadurai, and de Silva have had to experience its various manifestations in the realities of daily life.

  Goonetilleke’s charge that Sri Lankan writers in English do not permit readers to see the ethnic conflict “in all its complexity” is both pessimistic and premature, as will be seen in the works of the writers considered here. Fernandopulle, de Silva, and Sivanandan, for example, show that it is not just noncombatants who are victimized; active participants in the conflict are also victims to a certain extent. The latter two writers refuse to be locked into any mandated or predictable focus ostensibly dictated by writing in the war zone. All the writers considered in this book depict characters grappling, albeit in varying degrees, with issues of guilt, innocence, empathy, love, and complicity with regard to the conflict. In terms of style, however, it must be admitted that Sri Lankan writers in English have not experimented with language in the same way—playfully or otherwise—as other postcolonial writers such as Salman Rushdie, Ken Saro-Wiwa, or Arundhati Roy.

  Goonetilleke is correct that the works of Sri Lankan writers in English were not necessarily read by the “militants and soldiers”; however, it is important to note that the very fact that this literature is written in English and is therefore more accessible from a linguistic standpoint to the world outside of Sri Lanka than texts in Sinhala or Tamil very often makes it subversive and powerful. The state—and the militants—have recognized this power, as evidenced by the abduction and murder of the young journalist and poet Richard de Zoysa in the late 1980s due to his critiques of the then government in his work. International opinion is vital to both the state and the separatists, who depend on financial aid and other kinds of support from foreign sources.

  In addition, the pendulum has begun to swing back, and Sri Lankans whose first language is either Sinhala or Tamil are now more eager to learn English and therefore are more likely to read works written in English. It is noteworthy that English is a mandatory subject in schools. The textbook used ten to fifteen years ago for the Advanced Level (university entrance) examination only featured works by Shakespeare, Arthur Miller, and other British and American writers. 14 The textbook that subsequently came into use, General English: G.C.E. A’Level Class, includes more works by Sri Lankan writers. Thus, there is a greater chance that Sri Lankan children from all ethnic groups will be reading works written in English by Sri Lankan writers.

  Chelva Kanaganayakam has posited that there is also great potential for English literature written by Sri Lankans to enable a recognition of the myth-making process that opposing ethnic groups are engaged in and to even bridge the ethnic gap (“Dancing” 62). He further has argued that the formal properties of Anglophone writing might lend themselves particularly well to critiquing nationalist myths: “In general vernacular writing tends to focus on effects rather than causes, while literature in English favors abstraction. It can be argued that a novel like Anil’s Ghost is difficult to produce in the vernacular, and that it is also the strength of English language writing to produce such works” (“Defense” 20). Kanaganayakam thus suggests that the story of Sri Lankan literature is fundamentally incomplete if it excludes writing in English, as writing in English has points of strength that are peculiar to itself. In this study, I supplement the possibilities brought up by Kanaganayakam by considering works in English by both local and diasporic Sri Lankans, and by also making a distinction between the two. When selecting literary works for this study, I focused on those works that deal substantially and directly with the ethnic conflict. I chose a wide spectrum of literary works that range from those written by diasporic writers to works by local writers that are only well known in Sri Lanka to works by local writers that unfortunately are not well known even in Sri Lanka.

  In contrast to what has become a kind of orthodoxy among many postcolonial scholars, I make a distinction between writers who live in Sri Lanka and those who do not. Ismail, as mentioned earlier, asserts that differentiations should not be based on the location of the author of a text and that only the text matters. Rushdie has warned against classifications based on a writer’s location that lead to the “bogy of Authenticity” and has talked of “the folly of trying to contain writers inside passports” (“Commonwealth” 67). Kanaganayakam has suggested that critics should avoid “offer[ing] aesthetic and evaluative pronouncements on the strength of positions that are not always literary”—such as location (“Dancing” 57). Even though I agree with the positions of the above critics and do not seek to subscribe to an insider/outsider binary, I still make a differentiation based on location because it would be naïve not to recognize that one is affected by the material realities of one’s location. I draw attention to the location of the writers not in order to be prescriptive but to ensure that the works of local writers can be included and considered. Making a distinction between local and diasporic writers need not lead to labeling one group as more “authentic” than the other; rather, making this distinction allows us to see the different, and often complementary, perspectiv
es enabled by their varying material circumstances.

  Local Writers and the Logistics of Publishing

  These material circumstances have a profound effect on the nature of the literature published by Anglophone writers in Sri Lanka. In seeking publication, writers who live in Sri Lanka and write in English face a daunting struggle. There is no real support system or infrastructure to help Sri Lankan writers in English edit, publish, or distribute their work, perhaps because local publishers and booksellers find it more profitable to cater to the majority of Sri Lankan readers who prefer their reading material in Sinhala or Tamil. There are only a few local presses—such as Vijitha Yapa, S. Godage, Sarasavi, and, most recently, Perera-Hussein (Ph)—that publish works in English. There are no literary agents or editors, and it is up to the individual writers to make sure that their work gets into print. 15 As Yasmine Gooneratne has pointed out, there is also no publisher to nurture or encourage beginning writers (5). One option that is open to Anglophone writers is to publish short pieces in English-language newspapers such as The Daily News and The Island and their Sunday editions or in the English literary magazine Channels. 16 If they want to publish collections of their poems or short stories, these writers invariably have to self-publish their work at enormous expense to themselves and then persuade bookstores to carry a few copies. Since publishers and booksellers have little or no investment in privately published works, this means that there are few promotional campaigns for such works, and they are literally allowed to gather dust on the shelves. 17

  Another factor that hinders the circulation of Sri Lankan literature in English is the relative scarcity of critical attention from local reviewers. The few English-language newspapers in the country usually pick up reviews of foreign books that are published elsewhere, such as in Indian newspapers and magazines, instead of drawing attention to the work of local writers. Rajiva Wijesinha has pointed out that “Sri Lankan writers in English have received hardly any recognition in their own country, in marked contrast to writers in English in India or Africa or the West Indies. To be validated, it would seem, a book requires the approbation of the mother country” (“Spices and Sandcastles” 13). 18 Having their work published by Penguin India, which has so far brought out works by Jean Arasanayagam and Carl Muller, or winning a prize such as those awarded annually by the state or by the Gratiaen Trust (established in 1992 and funded by Michael Ondaatje from his Booker Prize winnings for The English Patient) provides relief—and much-needed publicity—to writers.

  The lack of publishing opportunities, marketing, and critical attention means that very often, short fiction and poetry become, practically speaking, the best genres available to Sri Lankan writers; it is relatively easier to get a short story or poem published in a newspaper or journal or to print a collection of short stories or poems or even a novella at the writer’s own expense than to have a full-length novel published. I believe that it is crucial to highlight the work of writers who struggle against these obstacles to bring their work to the public. Often, the short pieces produced by writers who are living in Sri Lanka convey the experiences relating to the ethnic conflict with much immediacy and power. The works are also primarily directed to a local audience and either reflect the ideas and experiences of Sri Lankan groups or guide their thinking in certain ways.

  In the following chapters, I explore the complex intersections of the material realities that divide Sri Lankan writers and the attempt to imagine a way beyond the ethnic conflict and its aftermath that unites them. Chapter 2 examines the poetry of Jean Arasanayagam, Kamala Wijeratne, Anne Ranasinghe, Sivamohan Sumathy, Vivimarie Vanderpoorten, and Richard de Zoysa, in addition to less-well-known poets from the literary collective, the English Writers Cooperative of Sri Lanka. It includes a reading of the lyrical 2004 documentary No More Tears Sister that illustrates the relationship between poetry and film in giving expression to an elegiac response to the Sri Lankan conflict. Chapter 3 deals with the fiction of Neil Fernandopulle, Nihal de Silva, and Jean Arasanayagam, with particular emphasis on empathy and dialogue as tools for reconciliation. Chapter 4 discusses the novels of A. Sivanandan and Shyam Selvadurai and the short stories of Pradeep Jeganathan, exploring the historiographic content of much contemporary Sri Lankan fiction by diasporic writers. Chapter 5 examines novels by Romesh Gunesekera, Michael Ondaatje, Channa Wickremesekera, and V. V. Ganeshananthan, and tracks the movement in Sri Lankan diasporic literature from an approach to the conflict that either exoticizes or engages with the homeland to an approach that is more focused on the nature of immigrant experience and the ways in which the conflict continues in the diaspora. Throughout, my study illustrates and examines the capacity of literature to respond to what might seem to be unimaginable circumstances, and to imagine alternatives to them and a future beyond them.

  Notes

  1. The situation is a very complex one since it involves more than just the Sinhalese and the Tamils. Moors and Malays, who are identified as Muslims due to their religious affiliation and are mainly Tamil-speaking, are caught between the two larger ethnic groups. The majority of the Muslims live in Tamil-dominated areas in the north and the east of Sri Lanka, while the rest are scattered all over the country. For information about other minority groups in Sri Lanka, see Cultural Minorities of Sri Lanka: Their Growth, Achievements, and Relevance Today, edited by E. Vijayalakshmi (2005).

  2. Nira Wickramasinghe has provided the most detailed account of the role played by the British in classifying and ordering Sri Lankan peoples in her Ethnic Politics in Colonial Sri Lanka (1995); see also Marisa Angell’s “Understanding the Aryan Theory” (1998); Arjun Guneratne’s “What’s in a Name? Aryans and Dravidians in the Making of Sri Lankan Identities” (2002); and Darini Rajasingham-Senanayake’s “Identity on the Borderline: Modernity, New Ethnicities, and the Unmaking of Multiculturalism in Sri Lanka” (2002).

  3. The Burghers, too, were affected by the 1956 language reforms. As Eurasians who considered English as their mother tongue, they too had benefited under the colonial regime. Many in the Burgher community emigrated to the West, especially to Australia, following the implementation of the “Sinhala Only” laws.

  4. It is impossible to say how many Tamils were killed in the riots, but a very conservative estimate would put the number between five hundred and two thousand.

  5. For a more detailed account of the various stages of the ethnic conflict written from the perspective of a human rights activist who is fiercely critical of both the government and the LTTE, see Sri Lanka: The Arrogance of Power—Myths, Decadence, and Murder by Rajan Hoole (2001). Other useful accounts of the various factors and events that led to the conflict as well as evolving phases of the conflict include E. Valentine Daniel’s Charred Lullabies (1996); Asoka Bandarage’s The Separatist Conflict in Sri Lanka (2009); and Michael Roberts’s Confrontations in Sri Lanka (2009).

  6. Ismail discusses symptomatic moments in Sivanandan’s novel When Memory Dies and Ernest McIntyre’s play Rasanayagam’s Last Riot.

  7. For more information on the role of the Sri Lankan media in terms of the ethnic conflict, particularly about the difficulties of obtaining access to the war zone, see Thiru Kandiah’s The Media and the Ethnic Conflict in Sri Lanka (2001).

  8. Manique Gunesekera provides an in-depth analysis of the changing attitudes in Sri Lanka with regard to the English language and its current role and status in The Postcolonial Identity of Sri Lankan English (2010).

  9. Rajiva Wijesinha speculates that this leaning toward English might be due to the fact that Sri Lankans, who have been colonized by various Western European nations for over four hundred years (first by the Portuguese [1505-1658], followed by the Dutch [1658-1796], and finally by the British [1796-1948]) have internalized the notion that everything Sri Lankan is inferior: “It is not generally recognized that Sri Lanka has been colonized more than any other country in the world. … As a result, what might be termed the upper classes… those who might be characterized now a
s the English speakers, are people who, to a greater extent than any others who still claim to possess a continuing cultural identity, have absorbed a colonial mindset” (“Spices and Sandcastles” 12).

  10. For a discussion of how Fanon’s work can be useful in a world marked by globalization, see Kalpana Seshadri-Crooks’s “‘I am a Master’: Terrorism, Masculinity, and Political Violence in Frantz Fanon” (2002).

  11. For claims about the LTTE’s war of liberation, see “The Legitimacy of the Armed Struggle of the Tamil People” and “A Short History of the Tamil Eelam Liberation Struggle” on TamilCanadian.com, a website that seems to have replaced Eelam Web, the official website for the LTTE.

  12. Ahmad has referred to “an opportunistic kind of Third-Worldism” (86) while Dirlik has said that the “post-colonial” begins “when Third World intellectuals have arrived in First World academe” (501). They suggest that practitioners of postcoloniality commodify the cultural production of the Third World and act as native informants or intermediaries.