As is the case with most unpleasant experiences in life, it is when we are under the most amount of pressure that we have to find a way to think critically, rein in our emotions, and proceed with caution. It’s fair to say that many Sri Lankans are under a lot of pressure right now. The rising cost of living, the lack of cooking gas and fuel, and the power cuts that are hindering everyday life are but some of the woes plaguing them.
When the events of 9 and 10 May unfolded in Sri Lanka, there were a few voices on social media calling on us to remember our past. When images of violence, burning buildings, and grown men stripped of their clothing were passed from one WhatsApp group to another, there were a select number of people pointing out the resemblances of those images to a dark time in our history – Black July (24 July, 1983 – 29 July, 1983). One such voice belonged to researcher and author Sarah Kabir.
Kabir, whose research is focused on the areas of peacebuilding and reconciliation, has worked on programmes related to governance and democracy, postwar development, humanitarianism, philanthropy, and remittances. Her book ‘Voices of Peace,’ launched in September 2018, weaves together the narratives of 10 former LTTE cadres and ten ex-Sri Lanka military personnel who actively fought at the front lines. Highlighting the need to listen, the book gives its readers the opportunity to meet both sides of the conflict.
For Kabir, one thing concerned her even more than President Gotabaya Rajapaksa playing deaf to very loud public dissent, which she thinks is a confirmation of his ego – it was how easily ordinary Sri Lankans took to violence or condoning violence. “Many of us youth have not lived through the fires of the ’80s but we might have heard a story or two. To see it transpire again at the scale that it did is worrying in terms of how poorly we have learnt from the lessons of our past,” she shares.
Kabir has a BSc in Social Policy from the University of Bristol and an MSc in International Development and Humanitarian Emergencies from the London School of Economics. Over the last decade, she has worked on issues related to peacebuilding and reconciliation at the Government level as well as through civil society organisations and independently. We caught up with her to discuss Sri Lanka’s present struggles, the importance of remaining calm, and the need to remember. Here are some excerpts from our chat:
Sri Lanka is going through a tumultuous time with unending woes we seem to be waking up to each day. How do you think we can remain calm and responsible in a climate like this, especially with relation to what we share as information by word of mouth, social media, and any other means?
A key and obvious one would be to desist from spreading misinformation, especially at times when emotions are running high. On 9 May, there were a lot of false messages spreading about which ‘pohottu’ member was hiding where, about which Sri Lankan was connected to the Rajapaksas, and so forth. One can assume these messages started with someone who had a personal vendetta. In those moments, ordinary citizens get carried away in forwarding and sharing messages that spread avoidable fear and hatred. So desisting can be one way.
I think it is also very important for Sri Lankans to take the time to research facts and history about certain groups and persons before forming an opinion based on the mainstream narrative. To take a step back before following the trend of the day and figure out who or what is guiding your thoughts, so you can make an informed choice. We get carried away easily. In school we are not taught to think critically. But it’s time we start to think independently and take responsibility as a citizen of this country if we want Sri Lanka to move forward the right way.
You have always been an advocate for remembering our past. Why do you think this is?
For me an understanding, acceptance, and acknowledgement of our past is the only way I see forward. I know it sounds like an oxymoron, and some will tell you the same. But to quote/paraphrase a former President of Germany, Richard Von Weizsäcker: “Whoever refuses to remember the past, is prone to new risks of infections.”
I understand and sympathise with the argument that the past is the past and we must move forward, but for a country like Sri Lanka that has spent decades since independence going through cycles of intolerance, violence, and conflict, if we are to rewrite our future, we must acknowledge our past.
The economic crisis we face today is a symptom of a much deeper systemic issue. We must ask ourselves – how strong are Sri Lanka’s foundations? What did we build on since independence? From my reading of history, it looks like we’ve been trying to build this country on very shaky foundations that can no longer take the weight of the blocks we’ve piled on. And let’s not forget some of these blocks can actually be thrown out, like the centralisation of power, discriminatory policies, and so forth. Now we’ve reached our threshold and if we want to move past this, we need to look back, understand this history that we have not yet reconciled with, and rebuild the foundations stronger before we try to put the cherry on top.
Why I’m taking up this cause is because I know and believe Sri Lanka can be better. We have to get over our saviour mentality because no one is coming to save us – only we can. The only way to do that is by understanding where we went wrong so we can correct our course.
A lot of the younger voices in Sri Lanka who are advocating for peace and remembering 1983 and what it brought didn’t live through the ’80s and only have the horrific stories passed down to them by their parents/grandparents. There are a select few who think this doesn’t give them the licence to draw parallels between the two times. What do you have to say to such people?
Interesting… I feel both arguments have validity. Each individual experience is unique, each person has their own interpretation of an account, and sometimes when drawing parallels, especially when it’s something as sensitive as targeted discrimination based on ethnicity, we might be disrespecting someone’s personal narrative. At the same time, drawing parallels is how we can further support and shape non-recurrence. So when doing that, we need to be cautious about not oversimplifying individual narratives. We must make sure we don’t misrepresent and disregard a certain event and the meaning it has to that individual. We must remember it is not a quantitative exercise but a qualitative one.
There is a real sense of sadness and gloom in Sri Lanka and there are countless Sri Lankans finding lots of ways to cope – whether it is by sharing whatever they find online consistently with friends and family, advocating for whatever causes they think are right using their social media platforms, or actively protesting. How do you think we should be paying attention to our mental health and subsequently our emotions and what energies we’re putting out there?
I don’t think even I have a handle on this yet. It truly is a difficult time physically and mentally. Everyone is experiencing this time in different ways, be it rich or poor, young or old, politically active or not. I know this may sound corny but a little kindness might help at this time. It feels like there is a lot of anger and hate and if we can replace that with tolerance and kindness, we might help each other not feel like we are in such a rut. But it is easier said than done, and I have to say, even I’m unable to at this time.
What parallels do you see, from your own knowledge, between the 1980s and what transpired in the week of 9 May in SL? How alarming are these parallels in your opinion?
There are two major parallels I see – the organised violence and the practice of ‘othering’. It is not what happened at Galle Face/GotaGoGama (GGG) that raises this though. It is what happened across the island.
As per a reliable witness: “A group of men with full face coverings turned up on bikes, torched the house (silently and professionally), and pushed off within five minutes.” For me, here is where I wonder, who are these well organised arsonists? How long have they been preparing for this moment and why?
Secondly, and most importantly, is this practice of ‘othering’. Where we see this happen is when the hunt for ‘pohottu’ supporters across the island began. Those who had not stepped foot into GGG were beaten to a pulp. Homes were ransacked and burnt. Public and private property was torched and destroyed. Buses were burnt. It was heartbreaking to see our insatiable appetite for ‘burning’ has not been fed even 74 years in. From the Jaffna Library, from Black July, from the internecine warfare in the north, from the JVP insurrections, and then more recently Aluthgama and Digana.
Yes, those who instigated this are said to be ‘pohottu’ supporters, but what alarms me is the justification to find those who resemble that group and punish them for it. Is this not what we did to the Tamils in ’83, for the actions of a small group of rebels? Is this not what we did to the Muslims in 2014, 2018, and 2019, because one aspect of their identity happened to represent the instigators?
We should not feel justified to beat, burn, or strip anyone who has a different political ideology to us, even if ‘us’ forms the majority of the day.
A person’s identity is formed by a variety of traits – gender, political ideologies, religion, ethnicity, caste, sexual orientation, and so forth. It is not fair to castigate a human being for one aspect that you might not agree with. And it is not fair to castigate someone who falls into a ‘minority’ on any one of these traits.
That this practice of ‘othering’ and ‘mob mentality’ is so deeply ingrained in us is something we need to take heed of. This is why I said earlier in this interview that we need to think critically and independently and not follow mainstream trends. This is why I appeal for, in the least, an understanding and acknowledgement of our past. What happened on 9 May is not something new. We have pillaged, vandalised and killed each other every decade. While the targets were different, the burning, the stripping, the mobs, the inhumanity was no different to the othering we saw then.
I have seen many who were champions of minority rights, who have been actively against racism and violence finding ways to condone the violence we saw this week, under the banner of ‘legitimate frustrations of the mobs’. Yes, people are angry, in hunger, in pain, and yes, we might sympathise less with the targets of the day. But if it wasn’t okay then, it isn’t okay now. If we condone it today, next time we will have to swallow the hard pill when we hear the same justification, which we undoubtedly have heard before: ‘It’s a legitimate frustration and people need to be able to vent it out.’
How are you coping, personally, with all that’s happening around you?
Poorly. I think being under curfew, seeing the country further militarised, seeing the leadership of a Gotabaya Rajapaksa-Ranil Wickremesinghe partnership, not seeing the constitutional changes I was hoping for, and experiencing the shortages from gas to fuel is a difficult condition under which to keep one’s mind and body afloat. Social media has not been helpful either. There’s been very little sleeping or eating, a lot of caffeine and a lot of hair pulled. Given the constitutional coup of 2018, Easter attacks of 2019, Covid-19, and now this, I’m surprised I have any hair left.
But what’s affected me the most is the violence and hate that I saw resurface in us. Having lived through the post Easter attacks hate and being fearful of my place and space in Sri Lanka, 9 May brought back to surface a lot of those emotions, frustrations, and sadness. This time I wasn’t on the receiving end, but this time I could empathise better. And it was painful to watch. Coupled with having studied Sri Lanka’s post independence history for the last three years, and seeing such alarmingly similar patterns and cycles of violence and intolerance is excruciatingly painful.
When you love your country so much, and want so much more for it, and at points like this you just want to scream at the top of your lungs: ‘JUST STOP. LOOK BACK. LEARN. ACKNOWLEDGE.’ Accepting and acknowledging our past is not to bring shame to our nation, but to learn the lesson so we can be committed to non-recurrence. What’s hard to cope with is that the little flicker of hope I have always had for Sri Lanka is slowly dwindling away.
What is your message to the Sri Lankan Government?
Please abolish the Executive Presidency.
What is your message to the Sri Lankan people?
Next time, let’s try to keep in mind that it is not justifiable to attack an entire community because a group of instigators might resemble them. To reiterate more simply, if a group of terrorists who happen to be Muslim carry out a heinous crime, it does not give anyone the right to lash out at all Muslims simply because they practise the same religion. If a group of rebels are of Tamil ethnicity, it does not mean all Tamils are terrorists. Likewise if a group of ‘pohottu’ supporters attack you, it does not mean you can go hunt down every, and any, ‘pohottu’ supporter that you dislike.
Secondly, we have to get rid of this zero-sum mentality that makes us think someone’s success is at the expense of our own. We can only move forward if we lift each other up.
Thirdly, there is no one leader and one person who can save Sri Lanka. Leaders are a reflection of society and if we want better leadership, we need to emulate the same. We need to understand we each have a role to play in healing Sri Lanka, in helping her be all that she can be. We need to be active, responsible citizens. We have a responsibility as citizens of this country to emulate the values we expect of our neighbour, of our community, of the ‘other,’ and of our leaders. We are all responsible for where we are today, and if we are to move forward, we need to build, rebuild, and not destroy.
