Reappropriated Rhetorical Spaces, Diffused Violence, and Polarized Psyches

We have removed the word minorities from our vocabulary […]. No longer are the Tamils, Muslims, Burghers, Malays and any others minorities. There are only two peoples in this country. One is the people that love this country. The other comprises the small groups that have no love for the land of their birth (Address by President Mahinda Rajapaksa declaring victory over the LTTE, May 19, 2009).

The direct impacts of a civil war that lasted over three decades, that was fought along the ethnic lines, and ended with the government’s declaration that they had vanquished the ‘terrorists’, are all too obvious – overwhelming number of deaths, casualties, disappearances, collapsed economies, damaged properties and livelihoods, an entire generation with post-traumatic disorders, refugees, internally displaced, mainstream media overflowing with images of victors/victims and so much more. The costs of a long-term armed conflict – financial, social, psychological, environmental, economical and human costs of war - are often quite dramatic and dispersed. However, the popular mainstream depictions of war enunciate a belief that these overt catastrophes are the only consequences of violence, and when the war or violence ends, all the aforementioned tragedies will disappear and the life will get back to normal as it was before. The foreign aids, international NGO’s, global and regional powers all strive to work towards attaining this goal – to stop the war/violence, and thus, to eliminate the pain and suffering they cause. This inherent belief is also reflected upon the reconciliation projects, resettlement programs and the peace processes of post-war Sri Lanka that strenuously attempt to bring back the ‘normalcy’, as it was perceived as the default pre-war condition.

However, the questions that haunt my mind are: was there any ‘normalcy’ or ‘peace’ before? could the conflict ever end? what are the wider implications – the invisible dissemination - of violence it perpetrated? During the post-war era, different parties may contend over the actual human cost of war and the numbers may range from 100,000 to one million; but is it just that? Do all the impacts of violence end there? The formal portrayals and national discourses overlook the more widespread social aspects or consequences of the ideologies that had nurtured (or were nurtured by) the conflict, and the influence they have on the rest of the population who were not ‘directly’ involved in the war. Are deaths and casualties the only dangerous aspect of war? Isn’t there something more dangerous about the entire discourse, which worked through the armed conflict, which aided and legitimized the violent process, which still prevalently exists long after the government has officially declared the end of war in 2009?

Polarizing discourses:

In the case of Sri Lanka, the conflict is often portrayed as a contention between two polarized ethno nationalisms – the Sinhala nationalism striving for a unified Buddhist country, and the Tamil nationalism promoting the establishment of a separate state – which have no common grounds to negotiate. In the mainstream media depictions of war, the entire conflict was simplified into a contention between the State and the LTTE, and as an extension based on who aligns with whom, it was also portrayed as rivalry between Tamils and the Sinhalese – on a much broader level.

This polarization – strictly defining the opposing parties while ignoring the complexities on both sides, simplifying the entire process, the actors and ideologies involved in that process, contribute to a wider dissemination of covert violence – violence that is not visible, that does not gain popular media attention, is rather very symbolic and structural, whose effects are more widespread and more threatening. In short, the Sri Lankan President’s declaration of removing the word ‘minorities’ from the vocabulary, and replacing it with ‘groups who do not love their country’ can be more threatening than the actual war. The President’s speech is quite alarming for number of reasons: it addresses a larger population, not only Tamils, but also includes all the other ethnic, religious minority groups in the society; it implies that the minority and ethnic concerns will no longer be acknowledged; and by dichotomizing the entire society into ‘those who love their country and those who do not’ – starkly simplified yet powerful rhetoric - it delegitimizes any claim against current political and social infrastructure; and more importantly, that powerful rhetoric justifies, on a very ground level, any violence or suffering exerted over the category ‘those who do not love their country’ – a broader group which can basically include anyone.

These polarizing discourses were deeply engrained in the common or public psyche, that in 2007 - when both the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE had withdrawn from the peace process initiated by Norway and had started intense fighting again, a Sinhala friend of mine asked me if it is true that the LTTE will secretly inform all the Tamils before planning an attack on the capital. Stunned by her question, I inquired from where she learned it. She replied that her class teacher informed all the students to monitor the Tamil students’ movements and to be cautious of any suspicious actions. We both attend the same Catholic high school in Colombo, which has Sinhala, Tamil, and English divisions – a place where students from different ethnic, religious, class, and caste backgrounds have socialized with each other for decades. It was at that moment, in my late teenage years at the high school, I realized that the conflict – the recent increase in violence, and the strength or legitimacy the national discourses gained through the violence - has caused irreparable fractures within the society.

Thus, the most frightening aspect of Sri Lankan conflict is not ONLY the rising death tolls, immeasurable casualties, or untraceable disappearances, instead, it is the ability of conflict to metamorphose people, to legitimize problematic ideologies, to disperse violence through polarizing discourses, to make invisible violence an everyday social phenomenon that determines and shapes even the very personal relationships of a wider audience.

Amidst and after:

The UN, several NGOs and much of the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora, however, continue to demand an international war crimes investigation. Siva insisted that this would only rake up memories everyone was trying to erase, and reignite the suspicion and uncertainty the government felt towards the Tamils. “We should decide whether, how and when we want the crimes investigated!” he said emphatically. “Not those who do not live here, like we do, with the guns to our forehead.” A young man in the front of the class asked: “And what is your plan instead?” Siva looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “I plan to shut up.” (Anonymous Author, Karavan online magazine 2012)

The government has now declared the end of war and the defeat of the LTTE, but, these nationalist ideologies and narratives which nurtured and aided the armed conflict for the past three decades still continue to exist. Even though the current representatives of Tamils in the political arena – the Tamil National Alliance which holds fourteen seats in the present Sri Lankan parliament – have given up on the extreme separatist Tamil nationalism (establishment of an independent state), most of the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora still perceive it as the only solution for the conflict. The Tamils who still reside in Sri Lanka may or may not aspire for ‘Tamil Eelam’, but the initiatives of the diaspora (i.e. the establishment of a transnational government, demands for war crimes investigation) are faced by the Sri Lankan state with hostility. And if the prevalent essentialist discourses continue to attribute the separatist nationalism an aspiration of the entire Tamil population, those who live in the country are more likely to be exposed to state violence and suppression.

Besides, even if the Tamil diaspora’s efforts towards international war crimes investigation was successful and the political or military leaders involved in the crimes were punished, what would it mean to the rest of the population (whether Tamils or Sinhalese)? When the polarizing discourses, narratives, and ideologies are still prevalent among both ethnic groups, would the trials make any difference? Would not the vacuum in power be replaced more vigorously? The trials’ potential in addressing the problematic discourses is quite dubious. If Sinhala nationalism, was primarily emerged as a resistance against imperialism or the western influence, the efforts of the Tamil community trying to counteract Sinhalese nationalism (or the violence perpetrated) with western rhetorics would again result in hostility.

The question that remains is, ‘how do we contend a violence that is diffused and implicit - violence that is embedded in the discourse or narratives that shape the society’s common psyche?’ The conflict can never end until the rhetorics that aid and supplement the process are addressed and questioned. But the space and freedom to question and contradict the rhetorics are, in fact, constrained by the very process. I believe, the most frightening aspect of violence, above all, is its ability to suppress the dissenting voices, and its capacity to infuse voluntary silence.

(if the flow of the article seems awkward, it's because this is a highly chopped version of a long original.. request or inbox me if interested in reading the lengthy one)