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Tissainayagam,
Richard de Zoysa and Professor Rajiva Wijesinha
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J. S. Tissainayagam and Richard de Soysa |
By Charles Sarvan
The
‘reaction’ cited below was published by you last week
(September 13, 2009). It followed your reproduction of
the statement made by Mr. Tissainayagam in court which
handed down a sentence of 20 years hard labour on him. I
quote verbatim:
REACTION – Sinhala bloggers “In 1989, Tissainayagam
translated some documents on the human rights violations
of the regime for (now President) Mahinda Rajapakse, a
key human rights activist of the day to be taken to
Geneva. He was a hero then, but now a villain. Is this
because then he was fighting for rights of the Sinhalese
and now for Tamil rights?”
The
question that concludes the above passage caught my
attention. As I have written elsewhere, the whites who
joined the struggle against apartheid in South Africa
did not do so because they were ‘for’ the blacks, but
because they were against discrimination and the
brutality (and resulting human suffering and tragedy)
which accompany the imposition and maintenance of
injustice. White Americans from the North who supported
Martin Luther King’s campaign were insulted (‘Nigger
lovers’), beaten and, in some cases, murdered. Some of
the most trenchant accounts I have read of Palestinian
suffering are by individuals of Jewish origin.
One
can identify three kinds of protest. The first would be
if I were to suffer injustice as a member of a group,
then protest and work towards dismantling that
injustice. A second kind of protest would be if I took
an interest, for example, in the plight of the (to me)
distant peoples of the Amazon rain-forest. I would be
disinterested, since there is no hope of gain for me in
expressing concern and indignation. (Increasingly,
“disinterest” tends to be confused with “uninterested”.)
The
third and the most challenging is to speak truth to
power when that power is wielded by one’s own group,
and, what is more, when injustice and force work to the
advantage of one’s own group. The examples I have cited
from South Africa, the USA and Israel arguably come
within this third and last category.
To
return to the question, “Is this because then he was
fighting for rights of the Sinhalese and now for Tamil
rights?”, the sickness of ethnic division (call it
primitive ‘tribalism’, if you will) has gained such a
hold on this island that one now speaks of Sinhalese
rights and Tamil rights, rather than of (fundamental,
universal) human rights; human rights recognise our
common humanity, regardless of language, religion, sex
or skin colour.
Writing about the late Adrian Wijemanne, I pointed out
that his was a principled, essentially decent and caring
stance. Transcending narrow tribalism, he did not “fight
for the Tamils” but for equality, justice and inclusion.
If the Sinhalese had been oppressed, herded and
corralled into prison camps, he would have been among
the first to espouse their cause.
The
position adopted by such individuals calls for rare
courage and inner strength because they are execrated
and abused as “traitors”, experience physical terror,
and sometimes pay the final price of death. (The ‘cost’
is also borne by those most close and dear to them.) At
times of inhumanity, such individuals — their character
and conduct — affirm our humanity, restore confidence,
hold out some hope, give courage.
On the
other hand, to go with the majority, to unethically use
one’s intelligence and ‘cleverness’ with language, has
its rewards: public admiration and applause; media
attention; appointment and promotion; entry into the
higher circles of power (and the privilege and social
status that brings); invitations; and deference. It is
an intoxicating, addictive cocktail that must make one
feel successful, powerful, and smugly conceited. But it
is gaining the “world” at the expense of what is best in
us as human beings.
And
yet, at moments of silent, honest introspection, some of
those who have ‘sold out’ must look in the mirror of the
past, see their earlier self and pause — however
briefly, uncomfortably and hurriedly. As a poet wrote
(albeit in another context), good is the life ending
faithfully – faithful to the values, principles and
ideals one believed in and cherished.
Many
souls, as noble as they were modest, both Sinhalese and
Tamil, have refused to be intimidated, declined to
compromise, disdained dangled prizes and rewards, and
paid the price. And this brings me, with thanks, to
Professor Rajiva Wijesinha because it was he who,
several years ago, drew my attention to one such
individual: Richard de Zoysa, political activist and
poet. I conclude with extracts from my resulting review.
(Richard de Zoysa) was well known: a human rights
activist, a fearless critic of political immorality and
cruelty. As an actor (on stage and screen) and as a
journalist and broadcaster, he reached many. In a time
of unreason, of ‘racial’ and political hatred and
violence, he upheld the values of justice, decency and
humanity. He was brutally murdered in February 1990,
not having quite reached the age of 32. His mother’s
attempts, despite state obstruction, to bring his
killers to justice, excited national admiration and
pity.
To
Rajiva Wijesinha, editing these poems was evidently a
labour of love [...]. I can do no better than to quote
him: de Zoysa was a very promising poet and “therein
lies a seeming paradox…‘promise’ implies that it was not
fulfilled.” What we have then is not so much admiration
for achieved work as regret that potential was cruelly
cut off; that de Zoysa fell victim to the forces he had
courageously opposed. The loss is both to poetry and to
those of the wider polity.
Sri Lanka
is not without such individuals, and, therefore (despite
the present combination of suave falsehoods and
appalling cruelty), not without hope of ethical and
political redemption and renewal. When that awakening
happens, many now wallowing in power and pride will be
seen quite differently.
charlessarvan@yahoo.com
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“Totalitarian leader was once a young idealist
fighting for human rights” - Excerpt
 “The
year was 1989. A violent youth insurrection that had
terrorised the Sri Lankan populace was being
brutally quelled by the state establishment. Bodies
were burned on rubber tyres and the charred remains
were left on every street corner. Hundreds of
corpses were polluting the major rivers of the
island’s south-west. Disappearances, arbitrary
detention and revenge killings were the order of the
day. With a government at the zenith of its power
determined to crush the insurgency through force,
leaving a trail of innocent victims in its wake, a
young Sri Lankan opposition parliamentarian from the
rural south decided to take a stand against the
country’s deteriorating human rights situation and
the state terror being unleashed upon his fellow
citizens.
“Travelling to
Switzerland
without a penny in his pocket and on an air ticket
purchased for him by a friend, the young politician
entered the building of the United Nations
Commission on Human Rights (UNCHR) in Geneva and
parked himself in the lobby. Over several days, he
waylaid every delegation passing through those
halls, using each opportunity to tell members of the
world community about the tragedy that was unfolding
in Sri Lanka. So eager and relentless was the young
man that he was finally given a special meeting at
the UNCHR to present his case. Back in
Sri Lanka
he organised anti-government campaigns and founded
organisations that looked into disappearances. He
was, if anything, the face of the agitation campaign
against the regime of the day, the street fighter
determined to secure the rights of the oppressed and
release them from the brutal grip of state terror.
“That man is now
Sri Lanka’s
fifth Executive President, elected to office in
2005. And so, beyond the signature moustache and the
shawl he still wears around his neck, there is no
resemblance between the starry-eyed Mahinda
Rajapakse from Hambantota, fighting for the rights
of his citizens in Geneva, and the corpulent, shrewd
politician occupying the premier seat of power in
Sri Lanka today. If we were to set aside the
remarkable victory against the Liberation Tigers of
Tamil Eelam (LTTE) for just a moment, the other most
significant legacy of Rajapakse’s presidency is the
veritable death of the free Sri Lankan media.”
— Special Correspondent, The Independent |
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Chandrika Kumaratunga