On the political dimensions of lament and salute
By Malinda Seneviratne
 Here’s
a challenge to all our readers, a quiz of sorts. What are the names of
those who perished with Major General Parami Kulatunge? Did it happen
too long ago to remember? Let us take something more recent. What was
the name of the policeman who died of gunshot injuries when TNA
parliamentarian N. Raviraj was shot dead? Old news? Ok, how about this:
What are the names of the two soldiers who died during Friday’s failed
assassination attempt on Defence Secretary, Gotabhaya Rajapaksa?
The first killing shocks. The second too. There is lamentation. Outrage.
Protest. However, when death follows death and the gluttony of killings
marks the passing of hours, a blanket of silence follows. Lamentation
becomes less of a social act; grief, less political, and remembrance,
naturally, a very personal matter. All this, in the generality of things
and processes; but it is specificity that maps the true dimensions of
tragedy. Society, fortunately or unfortunately, is not flat after all.
Society
What is this society we live in where unevenness of skill,
qualification, erudition etc. demands that differential degrees of
dignity are conferred among people who breathe the same air, have
similar biological processes, share the same will to live and the same
fear of death? Is it a matter of access to and consumption of calories
and lifestyles, something to do with capacities to purchase goods,
services, publicity, image and honour? Why is it that Aranthalawa,
Kebithigollewa, Dollar Farm, Kent Farm (did anyone remember that the
22nd anniversary of those massacres fell on November 30, I wonder),
Pesalai and other terrible places are associated with ‘tragedy’ but they
are un-peopled as far as remembrance is concerned?
There are key players in every field, i.e. those who give direction and
strength to purpose. This does not, however, make the foot soldiers
irrelevant. The boy who makes the cup of tea that gives you that extra
zip to carry you through the rest of the day and the person who keeps
the toilets clean may be more replaceable than a CEO, but that
profession cannot be inked out when it comes to management and budgetary
allocation.
Gotabhaya Rajapaksa is the President’s younger brother. The brothers’
embrace was indeed an endearing story in itself. Forget a brother’s bond
for brother. Gotabhaya is a key figure in the Mahinda Rajapaksa
administration. That he escaped assassination, just as Sarath Fonseka
escaped assassination, has significant implications to the
political-military in its entirety. There is reason to rejoice. There is
no reason, however, not to have perspective in all this.
No one can claim that only the men on the ground risk a bullet, a
claymore attack and other instruments of death This is a conflict that
has taken the life of a president, the eye of another, the life of a
prime minister, and other ‘key’ political and military figures. Mahinda
Rajapaksa’s own son has joined the Navy and while this could be brushed
aside as an astute PR move on the President’s part, it should not be
forgotten that there were other leaders who too had sons and daughters
of eligible age, leaders who too had to fight terrorism whether they
liked it or not. Each one of the 60,000 deaths that have occurred over
the past 30 years is a tragedy no less than the aggregate tragedy that
is war and no less tragic of course than the 60,000 deaths that occurred
between 1987 and 1990. In the case of the conflict, the LTTE dead are
not even known. They are not names, but numbers, and we easily forget
that enemy of the state or not, terrorist or not, each and every one of
them was a citizen of this country.
And yet we remember certain names, certain incidents, and we forget
others. Parami Kulatunga would have had relatives who mourned him. There
were countless others who mourned Kulatunga. The same goes for
Ranasinghe Premadasa, Lakshman Kadirgamar, C.V. Gunaratne, Denzil
Kobbekaduwa etc. They are of course, not undeserving of collective
lament, if not for position for the work they’ve done. Parami Kulatunge,
Denzil Kobbekaduwa and others who always led from the front, as well as
leaders who were truly born of the people they represented, would not
have disputed, however, that they are a product of both their time and
the people who stood with them. In good times and bad.
Stature
What is the stature of those who stand tall, taller than the rest of the
field, if not the incremental contributions of that field itself? In a
democracy, each vote counts, and presidents and other elected officials
are but the product of that gathering. That they often forget this, is
sad, but nevertheless its truth is not diminished one bit by that
occupational amnaesia. The same can be applied to those in the security
forces.
There is no ‘proper’ way to do justice to the memory of ‘small’ people.
There is no way that anyone or any agency can achieve ‘adequacy’ in
these things. Forgetting completely, however, is not an excuse. We are
all overwhelmed by death and tragedy and often believe these are
‘inevitable’. We find ways of excusing ourselves. We drink our cup of
tea, use the toilet, and sometimes even convince ourselves that the
tea-maker and the toilet-cleaner have jobs because we do whatever it is
that we do; that there is glory in dying to protect our rank in the
military or in government. Death is a cold thing, I have been made to
understand. ‘Sepulchrality’ is not exactly a warm residency.
There is equality in death, this we know. There is equality in
commemoration, this too we know. There are, however, real, live people
we meet, work with, quarrel with, who protect us and our right to take
issue with the work they do and the people and ideologies they work for.
Mahinda Rajapaksa did not mention Lance Corporal N.K. Piyasiri or Lance
Corporal P. Wijeratne. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the incident and
the fact that his brother was involved. Perhaps he will rectify this. He
is the President of Sri Lanka, and all Sri Lankans, Prabhakaran included
(sadly) and not just Gotabhaya Rajapaksa. Mahinda will do what Mahinda
wants to do. How about you and I? Just a thought at the end of a week
that saw Prabhakaran declare that he wants a separate bunker called
Eelam and tried to kill the Defence Secretary in order to achieve this.
No, I didn’t forget…he also killed Lance Corporal N.K. Piyasiri, Lance
Corporal P. Wijeratne and a mindless/helpless suicide bomber.
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