The Real Citizens of Sri Lanka

essay response to a lecture given by Ranjith Amarasinghe, professor emeritus of political science at the University of Peradeniya

When I first began learning about the ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka--especially after Tissa Jayatilake's lecture--I immediately identified language as a key component of the problem. Without a common language, I wondered, how could a state ever hope to be united? America faces a similar problem, though to a lesser degree, especially in states close to the Mexican border. There have been attempts across the board to promote America as a mono-lingual, English-speaking country, and on the other, movements to use Spanish alongside English. Both stances have riled up the American people, and tends to be a polarizing issue. Unaccommodating and marginalizing as it is, I can understand the mono-lingual perspective. The people of a country need to be able to communicate with their government and with each other. Americans spoke English before Mexican immigrants arrived--though even that is a semi-fallacious argument. We're a nation of immigrants, and we all speak many different languages. Regional dialects of English can be so varied that some linguists argue that they are practically a different language. Even still, it would be time-consuming and expensive to officially accommodate other languages. Throughout our history, we've expected immigrants to assimilate and learn English. There is really no reason for Mexican immigrants to expect different treatment. Of course, this will all blow over the minute we have a new, common enemy that the American people can unite against to demonize.

Demonization aside, I feel like Sri Lanka is in a slightly different situation. The two groups that speak different languages both claim to be the "original" in habitants of the island. Both of their claims go so far back that the claims begin to blur the line between myth, pre-history and written history. And unfortunately, who holds the original claim to the island is still a current issue, which further outlines the disunity of the state. To add to this mess, they speak different languages, and in more than one way, as Professor Amarasinghe has pointed out. While they do literally speak the incompatible Tamil and Sinhala, the two groups also can't seem to find a common ground on which to stand. So not only was the ethnic conflict an issue of practical, communicative language, but one of finding their national tongue.

Official flag of Sri Lanka

Who are the citizens of Sri Lanka? Unfortunately, the Sinhala-Buddhist majority, in the time leading up to the ethnic conflict, proved time and time again they believed they were the only ones deserving of citizenship. They marginalized the Tamils (and everyone else that wasn't Sinhala-Buddhist) in legislative representation. They very literally portrayed what they believed to be the true state of Sri Lanka in a very iconic representation: the flag, which visually placed the Tamils and Muslims in an extremely periphery position to the Sinhalese, as represented by the green and orange vertical stripes of color. Then, there was the mother-tongue movement, which, in the end, granted Sinhala the position of the official language of Sri Lanka. The Tamils didn't even oppose the return to a native language, they merely were asking for some inclusion rather than total exclusion. But those in power made it clear that they were unwilling to share with any minority interest groups, and the requests of the Tamils again, went unheard. It became very clear to the Tamils (and others) that the state had no interest in representing them or their interests. Their list of grievances grew longer and longer, and political unrest grew within the Tamil population. Dissatisfied with the ineffectiveness of the past leaders, they finally took to arms. While Amarasinghe does concede that language played a role in the conflict, perhaps its significance was overblown. Not only that, but focusing on the issue of language ignores the deeper and more problematic issue of the state being unable or unwilling to include within its citizenry those who are just as deserving as the Sinhala-Buddhist majority.

Originally written 28 October 2011.

Foreign privilege and disadvantage: a reflection on my independent study project

University of Peradeniya, Gemba Canteen

As a component of my study abroad program here in Sri Lanka, I was required to conduct a month-long, independent research project. The topic that I chose, the privatization of higher education, is one that has garnered attention both currently and historically within Sri Lanka. Having spent a full one-third of my time thus far working on this project, I think it's relevant to reflect on what this research project has meant for me in terms of a larger picture: how it has shaped my experience of living in a foreign country, and what I’ve learned from it.

Looking back on this project, one of the largest obstacles I encountered was being an outsider. In some ways, actually, being a foreigner in this country gives you this certain amount of privilege that is very difficult to obtain as a local Sri Lankan. I brought this up to a friend who lives here and told him how surprisingly helpful people were to me during my project. Because I was a foreigner, people were willing to talk to me, help me and generally go out of their way for me to an extreme that would be unheard of in America. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and asked, "If I were to go to America, would people treat me the way the same way that you’ve been treated here?"

The answer to that question was sadly, no, and he had guessed as much. And if anything, being a foreigner in America grants you the privilege of being treated with suspicion and apprehension. However, the privilege that being a foreigner in Sri Lanka gives you, he believes, is a vestige of colonial days: the brown people must always bend over backwards and forwards to please the white people. Throughout my project, I became increasingly aware of how this affected me. The director of the private medical college in Malabe was unbelievably helpful and generous with his time when it came to my project. Without his help, a significant portion of my research would have been largely unattainable. I was offered the opportunity to personally interview S. B. Dissanayake, the Minister of Higher Education. I was given accommodations in a hostel at the University of Peradeniya for two weeks, at no cost to me, at a time when hostel rooms are at a premium. Be that as it may, I am in no way attempting to reduce the wonderful complexity of my interactions with people during my project by attributing their generosity merely to the color of my skin, but to make an observation that I was, on the whole, given not only respect and generosity, but privilege perhaps far beyond what I deserved.

However, one privilege that being a foreigner does not grant you is the ability to become intimately acquainted with such multifaceted complexities in the short time of three and a half months, much less a dedicated one month. This became even more apparent in light of the topic that this paper attempts to tackle, which is the privatization of higher education in Sri Lanka. Though Sri Lanka may only be a small island the size of West Virginia, it’s historical, political, social and cultural portraits are multifaceted in their intricacy; even native Sri Lankans don’t always know the best way to fix the problems that this country faces in a way that does justice to all its citizens. It would be simple-minded and naïve of me to believe that I could come here, conduct a month-long research project, and then offer solutions to a problem that has a history far older than me. Consequently, being a foreigner while undertaking this project was my greatest asset but at the same time, my largest obstacle.

As such, I feel like my paper, being a written culmination of a mere one month of study in only a few thousand words, falls far short of doing this topic a comprehensive justice in many ways. I was unable to cover the political aspects of this topic, and the economics were touched on so briefly as to be almost non-existent. I tried, however, to give voice to both sides of the issue, though I make no promises to being fair and unbiased. Most importantly though, among the requisite facts, figures, statistics and data, I have tried to weave in the narratives of the people who make up these numbers; the people who so open-heartedly shared with me their thoughts, their opinions, their dreams and their frustrations.