“Hatred“?......................PROF.CS
How many civilians died in the last phase of the war? Was it 20,000 or 30,000 or 40,000? You’ll know better. Numbers, statistics, but the difference between zero and one is eternity and the whole world - when that one digit represents a much-loved individual. The past cannot be recalled, and that particular human being will not ever live again. Since thousands died, it follows that thousands of Tamils live with loss and grief that are life-long. Perhaps all Tamils know, at the least, someone who knows someone who has lost a dear relation or friend; someone gravely injured, deeply traumatised or driven into exile. There was no need to proceed with the onslaught because the Tigers were ringed with steel so tight that hardly the air could have escaped. The heedless haste to press on, callous to the civilian cost, was based not on military strategy but political calculation with an eye to gaining election-winning popularity. It is yet another example of shutting the gates of mercy on humankind, and wading through slaughter to power,
It was an appalling price but some Tamils (including those within the Island but outside the conflict zone) thought that that massacre and the end of the Tigers would mark the beginning of a new Sri Lanka, one of freedom, equality and dignity for all: a “baptism”, bloody but necessary for a new birth. They now feel disabused, deceived and disillusioned. People who visit the North describe the state of the region and the reality of daily life for its people. (You are aware, for you travel regularly in connection with the humanitarian work you do.) After all, one of the reasons proclaimed for waging the war was to free Tamils from Tiger tyranny. But tyranny, whether exercised by an armed group or the state, makes no difference to the hapless victims of untrammelled power. Power, like alcohol, goes to the head. And the longer one is drunk (has power), the more habituated - and worse - one becomes. Tamils, irrespective of age, sex or status in the community, can be, and are, rudely handled, humiliated, assaulted, even eliminated – all with complete immunity. And it’s not only the Sinhalese (be they in uniform or not) but Tamils also: a friend told me of being mistreated recently by a uniformed “boy” (in age to him) who later turned out to be a member of a Tamil group working in collaboration with, and under the protection of, the government. (Is it a case of the dogs of the king enjoying a higher status than ordinary humans?)
Your write that “the hatred” on both sides is very “deep”, and I try to explain why Tamil feelings are excruciatingly “raw”. Those Tamils who supported the Tigers are in sorrow and shock; those who opposed them (wishing and wanting a democratic way of life) feel cheated and bitter at what victory has brought. As for continuing (emphasised) hatred by the Sinhalese, you – not only a Sinhalese but someone close to “grass roots” - are better placed to analyse and explain. The Tigers have been decimated, and there is no threat or danger of organised Tamil violence. Yet there’s “hatred” which leads to the wish to dominate and subordinate. Why, when the head has been cut off, hack at the arms and legs of the corpse (Shakespeare)? On the other hand, there is inter-ethnic friendship (but see, ‘Racism and exceptionalism’, The Sunday Leader, 17 January 2010), and even marriage. Much is shared between Buddhism and Hinduism: indeed, some Sinhalese Buddhist commentators have observed that Sri Lankan Buddhism is now more Hinduism than the doctrine preached by the Buddha. There are links but, apparently, not strong enough to overcome pervasive, often unconscious, feelings of division.
I am neither a psychologist nor a sociologist, but there is in us, human beings, an innate wish and struggle to understand. I therefore offer, tentatively, an explanation. If a man wrongs someone, he may feel contrition. But it is also possible that, on the contrary, he develops a dislike for the victim of his injustice - because that person makes him feel “uncomfortable” with himself and his actions. An inner unease is displaced and projected outward: blame him so that I don’t have to blame myself. It is necessary to see that person as unworthy or guilty in order to justify to one’s self (and to what may be called the ethnic or collective self) one’s actions. I cannot accept the full humanity of another; his or her equal worth as a human being, and then proceed to discriminate or subordinate. Anger and hatred not only precede but must follow unjust action. Does it make sense to you? This letter is as much an attempt to clarify matters to myself as to respond to your comment.
The emotional divide is not beyond comprehension. But the existence of this chasm shows how necessary and urgent, important and necessary is the work to be done. There are many Tamils who have no interest, time or concern at all; Tamils who are quite happy getting on with their private and professional, familial and social, lives. But there are also several Sinhalese and Tamil active in various spheres, be it in politics, economics or the arts. Their work and effort can be seen as little tributaries which, I hope, will go to create the much needed, and longed for, river of change. They are “the salt of the earth” (Matthew, 5:13).
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