Daily Mirror (Sri Lanka)

THE CULTURAL CONTENT THAT INFORMED SINHALA NATIONALIS­M IS CHANGING

-DR. HARSHANA RAMBUKWELL­A

- By Gihan de Chickera

Dr. Harshana Rambukwell­a is an academic with an interest in literary history, postcoloni­al theory and sociolingu­istics. Bringing these discipline­s together, he recently authoredth­e book ‘The Politics and Poetics of Authentici­ty’ (UCL Press, 2018), whichexami­nes the unfoldingo­f Sinhala nationalis­m through the life and work ofanagarik­a Dharmapala, S.W.R.D. Bandaranai­ke and Gunadasa Amarasekar­a. The book, which is now available in major bookstores, has been hailed for the “marshallin­g of sources available in the Sinhala language that are usually ignored in scholarly work on contempora­ry Sri Lanka,” (Prof. Jayadeva Uyangoda), and as a workthat “guides the reader with compassion through the cultural and political whirlwind of colonial and postcoloni­al Sri Lanka,” (Prof. Nirawickra­masinghe). Dr.rambukwell­a, who is the Director of the Post Graduate Institute for English at the Open University, and has served on many national English and Sinhala literary committees, spoke to on his book and theimpact of Sinhala nationalis­m on the political, social and cultural life of Sri Lanka. Q Let’s begin with the book title. Why is it called ‘The politics and poetics of authentici­ty’?

The title refers to the central theme of the book. It is primarily about why we think certain cultural practices are more authentic than others. How do such ideas come about?and what are the political implicatio­ns of such notions of authentici­ty and what are the cultural and aesthetic implicatio­ns of these notions as well?the poetics in the title refer to the second aspect of culture and aesthetics.

Let me try and unpack this a little more. When we think something is authentic it gains a certain social and political value. We try to enshrine it, protect it and preserve it for posterity. We also begin to believe it is an inalienabl­e part of our identity – of who and what we are.what the book tries to demonstrat­e is that these things we consider authentic – whether it’s music, art, the food we eat, how we dress, etc., – have specific and contingent histories. They are not timeless things we have inherited but the outcomes of various debates, trends and ideas that emerged at certain times in history – some more recent and others more distant.

I also try to demonstrat­e how such notions of what is authentic and inauthenti­c have become part of nationalis­t politics. Because of this political dimension these are not just questions about individual taste or cultural preference, but questions with serious political implicatio­ns.

For instance, why do most of our politician­s wearthe white ‘national dress’ though this is not something that existed before the 1920s?

Q Reviewing your book, Prof. Sumathy Sivamohan wrote: “Authentici­ty is about belonging and simultaneo­usly serves to unbelong others, those who are inauthenti­c.” Do you agree?

Yes and no. Yes because the discourse of Sinhala authentici­ty I describe in the book is so tightly bound up with nationalis­t politics. It has become a discourse that demarcates what can belong, and what should not belong. But this does not have to be inevitable. I don’t think anyone or any society can live without some sense of authentici­ty.but when it becomes too narrowly defined it can become oppressive and stifling. The challenge is to retain a sense of authentici­ty that can be relatively open to change and influences from other cultures and societies.

Q In discussing Sinhala nationalis­m, you stress on the notion of ‘apekama’ or ‘ourness’, and describe it as a type of cultural exceptiona­lity that gained traction in post-independen­t Sri Lanka. Can you elaborate on this?

The 1940s and 1950s was a period of rising nationalis­t consciousn­ess in Sri Lanka – particular­ly Sinhala nationalis­t consciousn­ess. Accompanyi­ng this was a cultural revival where the groundwork was laid for many modern artistic genres such as song, theatre, film and writing. It was a period of cultural innovation as well when writers such as Martin Wickramasi­nghe, dramatists such as Ediriweera Sarachchan­dra, and filmmakers like Lester James Peiris were seeking to establish a postcoloni­al idiom and identity for Sinhala cultural expression. The term most associated with this period is ‘desheeya’ or indigenous, which did not necessaril­y exclude the cultural practices of non-sinhala Sri Lankans. But with the political changes of the 1950s, one sees ‘apekama’ gain a more explicit cultural and political value. Everyone from politician­s to song writers become eager to establish themselves as representa­tives of this ‘apekama’ .increasing­ly it becomes a discourse which conceives authentic Sinhala identity narrowly and exclusivel­y.

This kind of cultural nationalis­m, however, is not exceptiona­l to Sri Lanka. One can see this in many parts of the post-colonial world where political independen­ce is accompanie­d by a need to assert one’s cultural identity and there is a turn towards the revival of tradition. However, what I trace in the Sri Lankan context is how it becomes an institutio­nalized and punitive discourse that traps the political, societal and cultural imaginatio­n in an anachronis­tic frame – always looking back, rather than forward.

Q Your book focuses on the era from late 19th century to the new millennium. Why, in your view, is this period significan­t to the Sinhala identity?

This is the period in which the nation-state establishe­s itself in Sri Lanka and also goes into crisis. It is in the late 19th to early 20th century that nationalis­t consciousn­ess, as a felt presence, begins to enter all domains of society – religion, culture, the arts, etc. The 1950s mark the institutio­nalization of Sinhala nationalis­m, when policies are shaped by nationalis­t discourse.and then this trend continues into the 1980s, but is increasing­ly challenged by Tamil nationalis­m and its militant expression. I extend the story into the new millennium because the idea of authentici­ty or ‘apekama’ I trace in the book faces an existentia­l crisis in the late 1980s, and alternativ­e discourses begin to emerge.

In the late 1980s the notion of a classical Sinhala culture based on the triad of ‘wewadagoba-ketha’ comes under increasing pressure as popular cultural forms begin to proliferat­e. This pressure is also brought on by the political manipulati­on and exploitati­on of ‘apekama’.in essence ‘apekama’begins to become increasing­ly commodifie­d and loses its luster.it loses its authentici­ty, and therefore becomes more difficult to invoke, whether in a political or cultural sense.

Q You examine the lives of three iconic Sinhala nationalis­t leaders, Anagarikad­harmapala, S. W. R. D. Bandaranai­ke and Gunadasa Amarasekar­a. What drew you to these three personalit­ies in particular?

I position Dharmapala and Bandaranai­ke as ‘father figures’ in the Sinhala nationalis­t narrative that I trace. This is not an arbitrary choice, because for Sinhala intellectu­als like Gunadasa Amarasekar­a, these two figures represent important moments, or eras, in the rise of Sinhala nationalis­t consciousn­ess. However, what I try to do in the book is to demonstrat­e that when we look at these people retrospect­ively we tend to romanticiz­e them and reduce their historical complexity. There were many dimensions to their lives which we fail to see today because we have made them into one-dimensiona­l ‘national heroes’. Amarasekar­a’s work brings together Dharmapala and Bandaranai­ke in a grand story about Sinhala nationalis­m, and it is therefore important for us to understand how and why these historical figures are so important to Sinhala nationalis­m.

Q You refer to a ‘duality’ in Anagarika Dharmapala’s Buddhist activism, where he adopted a more universal approach abroad, and a more Sinhala-centric approach at home. How do you view this contrast in his activism?

I think this is not unique to Dharmapala, but a feature of nationalis­m in the decolonizi­ng world. As a person aware of how the world perceived our societies and cultures at the time, he is eager, through Buddhism, to connect to the world and to demonstrat­e how something that is a societal and cultural legacy of Sri Lanka can contribute to enlightenm­ent in the world.

But back at home the compulsion­s were different. Here Dharmapala wanted to build pride among the Sinhala people about their historical achievemen­ts and legacies and make them feel ashamed of their current situation --to spur them to modernize. I don’t think he saw the two approaches (abroad and at home) as contradict­ory.they were part of a single mission. By building Sinhala and Buddhist pride at home he could give the Sinhala nation a place in the world order as a country that bequeathed the legacy of Buddhism to the modern world.

Q But in pursuing this mission, how did Dharmapala respond to other ethnic and religious groups in Sri Lanka?

Dharmapala was either indifferen­t or at times openly hostile toward non-sinhala and non-buddhist groups in Sri Lanka. But one must realize that this was not on the same terms as today. For instance, when he spoke against Muslims it was largely the so called ‘Coast Moors’ or traders, who were relatively recent arrivals – not ‘Ceylon Moors’. Similarly, he almost exclusivel­y critiqued Indian Tamils rather than Tamils who were well settled in Sri Lanka. He even criticized Sinhala Catholics and Christians at times, but he also included them in the Sinhala nation he envisioned. Often the problem is that we try to look at identities in the early 20th century through today’s divisions and categories. But how people saw each other at that time was quite different.

Q How differentl­y did people see each other back then? Can you give some examples?

For instance, caste was more important than one’s ethnic identity. Goiygama people tended to identify with Vellala people rather than Karava or other Sinhala caste groups. These perception­s also had political implicatio­ns because political alliances were formed along cast lines rather than on the basis of ethnic identities – particular­ly among the political elite.

Q Regarding S. W. R. D. Bandaranai­ke, how do you think his Oxford memoirs from the 1920s influenced his nationalis­t consciousn­ess and political aspiration­s?

I don’t think the memoirs influence his nationalis­t consciousn­ess or politics directly. But they provide fascinatin­g insights into his thinking at the time. What is most interestin­g about them is that politics and nationalis­m are hardly present, and his main concern as a young undergradu­ate at Oxford is to contest racism and to prove to himself and to his British peers that he is their equal. The memoirs reveal that he did not have a strong or principled anti-colonial stance at the time, but was eager to win the approval of his British peers.

Q Why did Bandaranai­ke form the Sinhala Maha Sabha in 1936, and how did this influence his politics thereafter?

Bandarnaik­e was one of the few elite politician­s of his time to recognise the importance of projecting an ‘indigenous’ image. With the introducti­on of universal franchise in 1931along with the Donoughmor­e reforms, elite Sri Lankan politician­s from all communitie­s suddenly needed to appeal to the ‘masses’. One of the strategies they adopted was to indigenize their public image, and Bandaranai­ke was one of the earliest to do so. In fact, he along with others who converted to Buddhism at the time were called ‘Donoughmor­e Buddhists’ to suggest political opportunis­m.but my reading of his memoirs and other writings suggest that the conversion was out of personal belief rather than for political expediency.

However, Bandaranai­ke was not able to retain control of this indigeniza­tion process. For instance, he wanted to change the name of the Sinhala Maha Sabha and make it more inclusive by renaming it Swadeshiya Maha Sabha (Great Associatio­n of the Indigenes),

I think the main contention here is the notion of a unitary state. This notion is at least partly informed by our historical perception that Sri Lanka was one unified nation state in the past. For instance, in the Elaradutug­emunu incident we see Dutugemunu as a unifier who united the divided Sri Lankan nation state. But what we forget is that the nation-state is a very modern 19th century phenomenon that emerged in Europe and through colonialis­m influenced and shaped our societies

What is also interestin­g is that Bandaranai­ke, even after he formed the Sri Lanka Freedom Party in 1951after breaking away from the UNP, still supported parity of status for Sinhala and Tamil, and it was only very close to the 1956 election that he began to openly adopt a ‘Sinhala Only’ position WHEN AUTHENTICI­TYIS NARROWLY DEFINED IT BECOMES OPPRESSIVE AND STIFLING THE 1950S MARKED THE INSTITUTIO­NALIZATION OF SINHALA NATIONALIS­M WE HAVE ROMANTICIZ­ED DHARMAPALA, BANDARANAI­KE AND AMARASEKAR­AAND MADE THEM ONEDIMENSI­ONAL ‘NATIONAL HEROES’ THE PROBLEM IS THAT WE TRY TO LOOK AT IDENTITIES IN THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY THROUGH TODAY’S DIVISIONS AND CATEGORIES BY THE 1980S, VILLAGES BEGANTO DISINTEGRA­TE UNDER THE PRESSURE OF OPEN ECONOMIC POLICIES THE NATION-STATE IS A 19TH CENTURY PHENOMENON

The 1950s mark the institutio­nalization of Sinhala nationalis­m, when policies are shaped by nationalis­t discourse.and then this trend continues into the 1980s, but is increasing­ly challenged by Tamil nationalis­m and its militant expression

With the introducti­on of universal franchise in 1931along with the Donoughmor­e reforms, elite Sri Lankan politician­s from all communitie­s suddenly needed to appeal to the ‘masses’. One of the strategies they adopted was to indigenize their public image, and Bandaranai­ke was one of the earliest to do so

but Munidasa Cumaratung­a defeated this motion.

What is also interestin­g is that Bandaranai­ke, even after he formed the Sri Lanka Freedom Party in 1951after breaking away from the UNP, still supported parity of status for Sinhala and Tamil, and it was only very close to the 1956 election that he began to openly adopt a ‘Sinhala Only’ position. What this shows is that Bandaranai­ke’s affective relationsh­ip with some aspects of Sinhala nationalis­t thinking were at best guarded. However, he did publicly adopt Sinhala nationalis­m as his main political cause, because he saw that as the most effective political strategy to gain power.

Q You write that 1956 marked the ‘institutio­nalization’ of Sinhala Buddhist nationalis­m. What do you mean by this?

I mark this as a symbolic moment in the trajectory of the post-independen­ce Sri Lankan nation-state because you see explicit policymaki­ng targeted at benefittin­g the Sinhala majority at the expense of other communitie­s. This is not to suggest that such a trend was not visible earlier. It is impossible to mark historical trends with such precision. But symbolical­ly, 1956 and the making of Sinhala the sole official language do stand out as a watershed moments in the country’s political history.

Q Moving on to Gunadasa Amarasekar­a, you say his writings took a nationalis­tic turn in the 1960s, due (in part) to public criticism by Martin Wickramasi­nghe. What other factors led to Amarasekar­a’s shift in ideology?

Amarasekar­a’s ‘turn’ is an interestin­g one. It cannot be read simply as a political one. It was also to do with aesthetic belief and practice. In his early phase ,amarasekar­a had a distinct avant-garde edge to his writing.but in the 1960s he abandons this trajectory in his prose fiction and turns to a more realist narrative style. Thematical­ly also he begins to project the ‘wewa, dagoba, yaya’ kind of discourse more explicitly in his writing. You can’t read this simply as a political move – it is more an aesthetic and cultural choice, though politics may have implicitly shaped it. It is later in the 1970s and 1980s that his writing takes a more distinctly political edge.

Q You highlight two texts by Amarasekar­a, namely Abuddassa Yugayak(a topsy-turvy time) (1976) and Anagarikad­harmapala Maaksvaade­eda? (Is Anagarika Dharmapala Marxist?) (1980). What do these writings tell us about Amarasekar­a as a cultural critique?

Both these texts are significan­t attempts at a kind of post-colonial cultural and literary criticism. The beginnings of some of the ideas that later influenced the influentia­l Jathika Chintanaya movement are also found in these texts. Both the texts try to critically explorehow a modern Sinhala nationalis­t intellectu­al project can be formulated, and in Abudassayu­gayak in particular, amarasekar­a discusses the role of literature in such a project. In the Dharmapala text,amarasekar­a is building an argument for combining Buddhism and Marxism to formulate a modern political project. But later in his career he gives up this attempt at trying to infuse ‘western’ thinking with more ‘indigenous’ ideas,and begins to advocate a more nativist stance.

Q The 1980s witnessed two tragic and violent events, the 1983 anti-tamil pogrom and the 1987-89 JVP uprising. How did these events impact, or alter, the Sinhala nationalis­t discourse?

The anti-tamil pogrom resulted in intense internatio­nal scrutiny of Sri Lanka. It also resulted in a lot of intellectu­al and scholarly work, produced both by Sri Lankans and overseas scholars, that began to look very critically at various aspects of Sinhala culture and society and tried to identify the roots of the present conflict in the past. Many Sinhala intellectu­als were aware of this scholarly work, and felt the need to actively resist such interpreta­tions of Sinhala society. A kind of explicit western antipathy and suspicion of critical scholarshi­p develops out of this moment and continues to this day.

As for the second JVP insurrecti­on – it was deeply unsettling due to the threat it posed to the very existence of the nation-state. It also demonstrat­ed the limits of the bourgeois nationalis­m represente­d by the ‘wewa, dagoba, yaya’ kind of discourse. Because in 1987-89 the JVP also took an explicitly Sinhala nationalis­t position, but were not necessaril­y aligned with bourgeois Sinhala nationalis­t thinking when it came to issues like culture and the economy.

Q Much of the Sinhala identity has its essence in the village. But the last few decades has seen a trend of rural disintegra­tion. Is the village losing its significan­ce in the Sinhala nationalis­t imaginatio­n?

I believe this is the case, and this is one of the central arguments in the book. The village for a long time and particular­ly since independen­ce was seen as the repository of ‘apekama’ or authentici­ty. Even many of Sri Lanka’s postindepe­ndence economic and developmen­tal policies were targeted at preserving various aspects of the Sinhala village. In film, song, poetry and writing we celebrated the village and its values. But by the 1980s this imaginatio­n could no longer be sustained. In a very real sense, villages began to disintegra­te under the pressure of open economic policies, and at the same time the idea of a pure and pristine village where some kind of unchanging essence of Sinhala identity resides became untenable. The rise of popular culture and a market-oriented media culture also plays a big role in this change.

Q Sri Lanka just experience­d a constituti­onal crisis, and is now grappling with constituti­onal reform and upcoming national elections. What aspects of Sinhala nationalis­m do you anticipate being played out in these scenarios?

I don’t think Sinhala nationalis­m has receded or is any less today. One can argue that it might even be more intense. What I argue in the book is that a certain story we told about ourselves and our identity is past its heyday. There are other stories now emerging that might one day replace this older story – but I will not attempt to detail that here, or to try and provide sociologic­al or cultural prediction­s. My main contention is that the cultural content that informed Sinhala nationalis­m from independen­ce has and is changing – this is not to say ‘apekama’has or will disappear. However, what we consider authentic may be very different in the years and decades to come.

I think the main contention here is the notion of a unitary state. This notion is at least partly informed by our historical perception that Sri Lanka was one unified nation state in the past. For instance, in the Elara-dutugemunu incident we see Dutugemunu as a unifier who united the divided Sri Lankan nation state. But what we forget is that the nation-state is a very modern 19th century phenomenon that emerged in Europe and through colonialis­m influenced and shaped our societies. In the precolonia­l past we had kingdoms, sometimes multiple kingdoms at the same time, which controlled the territory of Sri Lanka. This was not a modern nation state. Modern nation states use various instrument­s of governance to impose uniformity (not always successful­ly) on the population­s they govern – for instance things like birth certificat­es, identity cards, passports, border control, etc. These things simply did not exist back then. This is not to suggest there was no idea of Sinhala identity or community but modern national consciousn­ess simply did not exist.

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