The most tragic thing in the world is a sick doctor

One day, more than ten years ago, I saw three blind men assaulting a man outside the Fort Railway Station.  They were screaming at the victim. Apparently the three men were lottery sellers retailing dreams at the station.  The ‘victim’ had robbed one of them.  The robbed had recognised robber, several months later, by footstep, or so we were told. The ‘victim’, silently took the mauling. The robbed were trying gouge his eyes out.  The police intervened; bundled them all into a vehicle and took them away.

Petty theft. Petty assault.  Not the first. Not the last. And not the only type of crime.  There’s pickpocketing. Pimping. Prostitution. Verbal abuse. Physical abuse. Character assassination.  Small. Crimes, yes, but petty, not for victim but when viewed against the canvass of major crimes.  There are down-and-dirty crimes.  Hands-get-dirty crimes.  And then there’s clean crime. Sanitized crime.  Loophole-knowing crime. Politically-protected crime. Ladies-and-Gentlemen crime. 

White-Collar Crime.  That’s Allowed-Crime.  It is the kind of crime that you will not associate with people who have ‘names’ like Malu Nihal, Baddegane Sanjeewa, Kuru Noor, Kristoper (of Kelaniya University fame), Bada Mahinda etc etc.  It is more likely that they will have aristocratic-sounding names and are propertied to the maximum.  Much of it happens under the radar of the law, naturally. If, as Lenin said, the law is the will of the ruling class, then the political reality is that the ruling class will if necessary bend its own laws to protect itself or at least its champions. 

White-collar crime refers, technically, to theft, fraud, embezzlement or some other non-violent lawbreaking act perpetrated by a salaried employee or senior manager of a company or organization. There’s no eye-gouging or Tyson-like ear-chewing.  Clean-cut. That’s the signature of such crimes. The term, which has no legal significance, was first popularized by the American criminologist Edwin H. Sutherland in his classic paper “White-Collar Criminality” (1940), I learned.  He pointed out that there’s a ‘significant sociological difference between conventional crimes such as burglary and murder, which are defined without reference to the social status or occupation of the perpetrator, and white-collar crimes such as fraud, embezzlement, price-fixing, antitrust violations, income-tax evasion, misuse of public funds, and abuse of political and legal powers’.

He adds, ‘in general, the latter are committed by persons of relatively high social status, are intimately connected with the socially approved occupation of the perpetrator, and are treated by the authorities more leniently and inconsistently than are conventional crimes.’  The crimes, then, are clean-handed and so too the (rare) punishment, typically nothing more than loss of professional license (where applicable) or levying of fines.  There is of course some fallout by way of loss of face, but that’s not something a court can order and anyway, we all know, popularity can dip and swing back, especially if enough bucks are thrown into it.  The film ‘God Father III’ showed how it is done and anyway, if we look around, we will see enough examples of those who recovered face or rather, purchased face back, after getting ‘sooted’ in public.  Most importantly, white-collar criminals, for the most part get away without having to serve jail-terms. 

There have been scandals.  Why ‘scandal’? Is that a word used for ladies-gentlemen-crime?  Pickpocketing is not ‘scandal’, embezzlement is.  It’s about status isn’t it? Anyway, we had some scandals recently.  Big-name people making big bucks by lying to people.  Big-name people taking people for a ride, doing a Ponzi.  The amounts pilfered were so huge that pickpockets and would-be eye-gougers suddenly appeared to be respectable and considerate.  My friend R. Manamendra committed suicide after being short-changed of all his savings in the Golden Key scandal (read ‘daylight robbery’).   I am yet to hear of someone hanging him/herself on account of being pickpocketed.  Depositors are still to be compensated. 

Ponzi schemes are not the only kind of white-collar crime, though.  I am thinking of the kinds of crimes engaged in by medical professionals. Again, these are ‘ladies’ and ‘gentlemen’ we are talking about.  Clean-hands people.  You wouldn’t think that Opthalmologists and Cardiologists would rob would you?  They are not pickpocketing types, surely?  Right.  They are not.  Pick a pocket and you get a handful of bucks; well, a couple of thousands which in these inflationary times amount to peanuts.  Let me relate some stories.

First the Ophthalmologists.  We are talking about cataract surgeries. The glass lens that is suitable in 95% of the cases costs just Rs. 700.  Almost all Government Ophthalmologists discourage the purchase of these lenses.  There is however one Ophthalmologist at the Vijaya Kumaratunga hospital, Seeduwa, who is perfectly happy with this lens type and performs 80-100 surgeries a day on average.  Now, is he stupid? Should he lose his license for incompetence? Is he a ‘quack’?  No, he’s just doing things differently.  He doesn’t have to, but doing things this way means that cataract operations become affordable to a larger number of people.

How do others do it?  This is how. There are two operation lists.  One under ‘normal procedure’, i.e. 6 months of ‘waiting time’, and the other a ‘private list’ with specific instructions to buy the les from a particular optician.  The actual price of the lens is in the region of Rs. 6,000 but it is sold to the patient for amounts ranging from Rs. 12,000 to Rs. 15,000. This is the ‘price’ of the queue-breaking ticket.  Thirty days and you are seeing the world with new eyes. The operations are done as part of routine surgical lists, but the surgeon takes home a big fee.  Well, the surgeon doesn’t get one extra cent from the Ministry of Health, but it is hard to believe that a surgeon would recommend a lens that is almost 20 times the cost of one that would do the same job unless he/she is adequately compensated for by the lens merchant. 

Let’s assume that such a surgeon does 20 surgeries a day and gets, say a 50% ‘cut’ from lens-sale.  That would be a minimum of Rs. 3,000 multiplied by 20 or Rs. 60,000 a day.  Let’s take 10 working days (that’s me being ultra-generous).  A whopping 600,000 a month or 7.2 million a year.  What if the true ‘cut’ was 6,000 and not 3,000 rupees?  That would be 14.2 million a year.  And if it was Rs 9,000?  That’s Rs. 180,000 a day.  Let’s have a working month of 20 days and the monthly take would be Rs. 3.6 million a month.  Let’s get some perspective here. The demi-god at the Vijaya Kumaratunga hospital would be making between Rs. 240,000 and Rs. 900,000 a day depending on amount of ‘cut’ and number of surgeries!

One begins to wonder, now, why there are only a few eye surgeons being produced by the system; low supply, high demand and therefore choice-lack, producing high prices?

Let’s take the Cardiologists.  They decide sometimes that patients require stenting.  The patients are duly referred to businessmen/agents who are within the premises of the Cardiology Units to obtain the stent. The price? Well, let me put it this way. If all you want is to go from Thimbirigasyaya to Town Hall, you can take a three wheeler. You can cycle. You can walk there. You could take a bus.  If you insist on going by car, you can go in a Maruti-Suzuki, a Cherry QQ or a Rolls Royce.  What is recommended, folks, is a Rolls Royce Stent. The unsuspecting patient will not know that there are Cherry QQ or 3-wheeler stents that will do the job just as well. The un-frilled device they could get for less than Rs. 50,000 is never recommended. Instead, frilled versions, ranging from Rs. 150,000 to Rs. 300,000 are touted as the best (and sometimes the ‘only’) thing out there in the market.  Does the Cardiologist get a cut? 

Isn’t all this pointing us to the worst kind of (and still quite ‘classic’, I might add) private-public partnership there can be?  Isn’t this a win-win situation for supplier and surgeon and betrayal of the ordinary citizen who is caught, beaten and made to cough up his/her life-savings.

It wouldn’t happen if there was integrity. It wouldn’t happen if those responsible for ensuring that such schemes don’t undercut the objectives of ‘free healthcare’ did their job.  It might help to increase the number of skilled people in the country.  Did the former minister know about these unethical practices, these trust-violations and blatant fraud?  Is the present minister ready to look into these issues?

Does this also happen in Orthopedic procedures such as hip-replacements and knee-joint replacements?  Are patients required to purchase branded devices from surgeon-specified sources carrying trade-named when the hospitals carry them?  Is supply deliberately kept low or even at zero? 

I know enough ‘professionals’ who bark at police officers taking bribes from drivers who are guilty of minor offences.  They even point their fingers at politicians and howl with righteous anger about corruption, lack of respect for the rule of law etc.  My friends in the medical field have told me enough stories about doctors being thick as thieves with the pharmaceutical industry. 

We are not talking about that wonderful world of market economics here, i.e one where demand and supply curves play willy-nilly and according to some kind of internal logic. We are talking about price-fixing and about agreement among sellers. We are talking about corporate monopolies. About complicity on the part of relevant officials.  

Francois Marie Arouet, better known as Voltaire once said that doctors are the greatest deceivers and patients the greatest fools.  I don’t want to paint with such thick a brush.  I am not happy though.  George Bernard Shaw said, ‘the most tragic thing in the world is a sick doctor’.  With due apologies to all the wonderful doctors out there healing patients and being absolutely honourable and of unblemished character, I concur and note that Shaw didn’t say ‘the most tragic thing in the world is that all doctors are sick’. He qualified. I do too. 

We need a counter-corruption commission. Fast. An independent one.  Mr. President, you are known to have reservations about the efficacy of the 17^th Amendment. Fine.  How about an alternative that can do the job?  The citizens of this country all have eyes. They have hearts. Knees and hips.  Some of these will need replacement or some kind of prop sooner or later.  You too, Mr. President.  I am sure surgeon and supplier will do the honours free of charge.  I will not have that privilege, no. Neither would the vast majority of my fellow citizens.  Any thoughts, Mr. President? 

[This first appeared in 'The Daily Mirror', June 10, 2010]

Education: big issues, small interventions and sticking-plasters

There have been howls of protest about the decision of ban tuition classes on Sundays.  The objections have come from those who claim to be defending general freedoms and religious freedom in particular.  The arguments are pretty simple. For example, it is held that the choice should be up to the parents.  If they prefer to send their children to tuition classes instead of Sunday Schools, that’s their business and the state had better keep its dirty fingers out.  It’s a free-market, others point out. Let the market decide, they say.

As a parent, if I was asked whether I would prefer Sunday mornings to be tuition-free, chess-free, dance-free, theatre-free and anything-else-free just so my children have the option of attending the daham pasala, I would say ‘yes’.  I strongly suspect that the vast majority of parents would vote with me.  That is not a question that will be asked, though.  Survey-makers play politics. They put questions that will not compromise political project. 

I believe, nevertheless, that the Sunday tuition issue is indicative of an issue far more serious than religious freedom and freedom of choice.  In a sense it is an issue about whether or not society and parents are amenable to the idea of inculcating in their children the values that religions teach.  The proposition, however, is patently false and misleading. It is not an either-or matter.  You can have both. Tuition has a purpose and the purpose is not at odds with the desire of parents to bring up their children as good citizens.  They want both, but (may) opt for tuition over Sunday School if there’s a schedule-clash.  This is why certain un-Christian Christian evangelical groups offer ‘free English classes’ on Sundays to children in areas where there are no Christians (Sundays were to be days of rest, one thought).

The problem is easily identified if the following question is asked: ‘why are there tuition classes?’  We all know the answer is, ‘because schools/teachers don’t deliver!’ If schools/teachers delivered, the ‘need’ to ban tuition classes on Sundays would not arise. Indeed, the ‘free market’ would quickly do away with tuition classes altogether.  Of course, we do know that tuition teachers also draw salaries for ‘teaching’ in schools and that the trick is to fudge at the job and draw students into ‘tuitories’.  Makes economic sense.  It won’t if there is proper assessment, hiring and firing, a policy that says deliver-or-buzz-off and the shirkers and unskilled unceremoniously kicked out and the kicking out appropriately publicized.  We haven’t got there yet and that’s part of the problem.  So let’s consider the dimensions of the issue at hand.    

Education Minister Bandula Gunawardane recently promised to hold talks with university professors and educationists about the teachers’ lamentation that national examinations were too advanced for students, especially for those in the A/L classes.  Teachers have pointed out that there is a tendency for students outside the urban areas not to select subjects such as Combined Mathematics, Chemistry, Physics and Biology. 

The degree of difficulty is clearly a product of under-preparation which comes from lack of quality teachers and related facilities.  It’s simple math, actually.  How many teachers do we have for Combined Mathematics, Chemistry, Physics and Biology?  Consider also the number of adequately equipped laboratories and libraries.  It is not hard to obtain thereafter the number of functional science streams in the country. There are 260 Divisional Secretary (DS) areas in the country.  Now figure out the number of functional science streams in each DS area and the problem will surface. EQUITY! Well, the lack of it.

Isn’t this what the entire public service transfer scheme is about?  Isn’t it about parents trying to find a school with a functional science stream which, the majority would think, is the pathway to the proverbial greener pasture?  Isn’t this what the Grade I admission rush is about?  Isn’t this what whole drama of faking IDs, birth certificates and residences about?  Isn’t this what the child-mauling scholarship examination is all about, isn’t it?  It is not that all parents are fixated about their children becoming doctors or engineers but they are legitimately keen on doing their best to ensure that their children are not defaulted out of such professions. 

The spoils system, nepotism, favouritism, politicisation, leaking and cheating in examinations, impersonations and all the vices that the education system reeks of largely flows from this single issue of a functional science stream (or lack thereof). 

My friend Mohammed Rila, commenting on something I had written recently on teachers pointed out that few remember the father of free education, C.W.W. Kannangara.  He observes that there are days for fathers and mothers (lovers too, I could add) but none to remember what we owe this man.   Free education is a noble idea.  One can say it is unsustainable, but there are elements in Kannangara’s vision that have stood the test of time and the compromising of which are actually the cause of the problems described above.  I am thinking of the Central Schools System.

Kannangra created ‘central’ schools in all parts of the country. They were boarding schools and equipped with labs and libraries.  There were staffed with teachers so that children would not have to go to Colombo, Kandy, Galle, Jaffna or Kurunegala if they wanted to study in the science streams.  The idea bore fruit.  The tree, however, was not taken care of.  The roots were damaged. The earth poisoned. We are reaping the results as I write. 

It is heartening in this context that the Government has articulated an education policy that takes Kannangara’s system as starting point and seeks enhancement.  The target is to set up 1000 schools that are fully equipped with labs, libraries, gymnasiums and staffed with top quality teachers from Grade 1 to A/L.  I am not sure how much it will cost, but if one takes into account the amount of money that parents spend on buses, tuition classes and boarding houses, an expansion of the Central School system can be paid for in part by the parents themselves.  It is not difficult to apply the principle of differential pricing to make quality education accessible to all.  Another way is to take serious note of what people like Udul Premaratne of the Inter University Student Federation proposes: CUT WASTAGE!  There’s enough money to do all this and more if wastage and corruption are dealt with.  Fat hope, did I hear someone say? 

Perhaps, but this is the 21^st Century.  Even inefficient, corrupt and wasteful politicians can do little things to improve matters.   Take something that is ‘small’ but still costs the parents of students preparing for A/Ls millions of rupees: past papers.  What does it cost for the Education Department to post all past papers of all subjects on a website?  Most schools have computers now.  Many do not, but then again there are some 600 state-run cyber-cafes spread throughout the country. These are complemented by thousands of other such internet cafes.  Why should children have to purchase these from third parties?

Why can’t the syllabi for all subjects be made available online?  There are thousands of children who play chess in this country.  Chess books are expensive.  Software is expensive.  And yet, the top players are not literature-starved. They download e-books and relevant software from the internet.  It is not difficult to post tutorials on the internet. It is not difficult to post model answers to questions.  It is not too expensive to establish call centers to answer questions that students pose. 

Close to 50% of all children who enter Grade I fail to make it to the A/L. This is 130,000 children a year.  They are the structurally ignored.  Then there are the 100,000 who fail the A/Ls. The University Grants Commission has proudly announced that this year 22,000 will enter university.  The relevant authorities in the Education Ministry are silent about the 100,000 who qualify but are stopped at the gate with the dismissive ‘No room, sorry!’

Let’s catch these numbers again.  We have 130,000 who fail the O/L.  We have 100,000 who fail the A/L.  We have another 100,000 who qualify to enter university but for whom there is no room.  We have to keep in mind that we are talking of children on whom the state has invested at least 13 years by way of free education, free books, free school uniforms, free meals etc.  That’s colossal. 

The little things have to be done. The big things are said to be getting done.  It might take time, but we need the policy and the implementation.  If not, we are not going to get to aashcharya, we won’t be a ‘Asian Wonder’ or a ‘Miracle of Asia’.  We will remain ‘Sri Lanka: Ok, sort of’.  The tragedy is that we don’t have to be!

The Sunday School Vs Tuition Class is therefore a digression and this too on a peripheral manifestation of a core social problem.  It is not the starting point.  Bandula Gunawardena, Minister of Education and tuition master, can’t be ignorant of the issues.  The policy has been articulated clearly in Mahinda Chinthana – Idiri Dekam.  There’s been enough talk.  Let’s see something solid now.  Yes, the ‘small things’ as well as the ‘big things’.  Let’s keep sticking plaster out for now. 

[First published in the 'Daily Mirror', June 12, 2010]

If schools are to make a difference, we need different kinds of schools

No nation needs all its citizens to hold doctorates.  Indeed, there cannot be a nation where every citizen aspires to have a doctorate.  Doctors earn a lot of money but this does not mean that everyone should or could become one. 

My friend Nilooka Dissanayake, while not exactly defending the confused and inadequate education policies of successive governments, alerted me to the following:

• Everyone cannot pass O/Ls, even if all the schools have the facilities that Royal, Visakha, Devi Balika, Ananda etc enjoy.
• Some time ago, there were some 50,000 vocational educational spots but the Government was hard pressed to recruit people (O/L results have not fluctuated significantly from then to now, a few percentage points; less than ten percent anyway).
• All parents want their children to go to university.  Everyone pretends to want to as well, but some don’t even try (never mind the disadvantaged kids whose parents have no idea how well the kids are doing etc., the schools not being good and teachers useless and untrained)

Nilooka was making a point regarding the dignity of labour and a dire need for attitudinal change:

“The street cleaner in my opinion is more valuable than the mayor on a day to day basis. Otherwise the streets will stink. The Mayor's job anyone can do or delay... as you know. And the poor guy who lifts the loads at the Pettah market, or goes around plucking coconut, in my opinion, ought to be more respected than graduates who cannot hold a job and keep complaining of hard work.”

 

All this is true.  All the more reason for a comprehensive occupational classification and a more enlightened policy pertaining to provision of technical education at all levels, quite apart from changing the way we see ‘labour’ and how labour sees itself.  Nilooka pointed out that notwithstanding all this, ‘the fact that you are from a rural and disadvantaged area should not make you automatically a loser; everyone should have good schools’.

There is no disputing the fact that poverty and education are closely related and that high poverty is associated among other things with low quality human capital.  Just think: what kind of ‘human capital’ will the O/L drop-out have apart from physical strength?  Education is not just about improving chances of finding a job, furthering a career etc., but is an important element of overall empowerment of an individual, community or nation.  As the former President of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere once put it, ‘education is not a way to escape poverty; it is a way of fighting it’. 

No country can unshackled itself from the multi-pronged fetters of post-colonialism, inherited structures that foster inefficiency, poor governance and undemocratic practices and economic and political subjugation by the powerful if it does not educate its people.  And ‘education’, let us not forget is not coterminous with literacy.  At the most basic level there should be functional literacy and we just don’t have the numbers. 

We don’t need all our children to end up as doctors, but we need all of them to be able to read and write, to add, subtract, divide and multiply, to have basic analytical skills, to have a reasonable awareness of things and processes around them, and to acquire some minimal ability to appreciate things aesthetic.

One doesn’t have to labour the argument that lack of education, restricted access to basic educational facilities etc will result in low literacy, fewer life-skills and other negatives which inhibit the struggle to break through the cycles of poverty.  Poverty clearly blocks a child’s readiness for school through aspects of health, home life, schooling and neighbourhood conditions.  Children from low-income families do not receive the necessary stimulation and encouragement and start off handicapped compared to peers who come from families in higher income brackets.  Thus effective intervention in the sphere of education can unscramble this vicious equation.

The bottom line is that schools make a difference.  Where poor adults suffer from functional illiteracy thanks to poor educational attainment, they cannot help their children develop pre-literacy skills.  These children therefore are ‘poor starters’ and are more likely to dropout before the 5^th grade.  They end up like their parents; functionally

illiterate. 

Only 52% have passed the GCE O/L.  This is nothing to be proud of. It is a national shame.  A district-wise or province-wise breakdown and indeed an even more detailed breakdown (i.e. at the Grama Niladhari levels) would clearly indicate regional disparities and help identify the dimensions of the problem. 

Consider this:  14 students sat for the O/L last year from a village school just 12km from Ratnapura town; two passed.  Is anyone complaining?  No. Why not?  Well, it is ‘normal’!  This has been the case in previous years as well. Parents take these results as being ‘ok’.   They don’t realize that their children are getting a passport to poverty or, to but it more bluntly, permanent residency in that unhappy land, a Green Card in fact.  

Sri Lanka has enough ministries of education at the national and regional levels, in addition to numerous organizations devoted to the subject pertaining to various levels of attainment.  No one seems to be bothered about the 12 children in that village school who failed.  Or the thousands of others in similar schools who fail. Every year.  They have to wait another 8 months to sit the exam again, if they so choose.   Some of these 17 year olds will engage in unsafe sex, some will have babies, some will experiment with alcohol or drugs, and some will get on the wrong side of the law.  In banking terms they could be described as non-performing loans or labeled as ‘non-recoverable’.

But they don’t disappear, do they?  Their numbers increase and they are a living indictment on inefficiency, callousness and incompetence.   People are elected to sort such problems out.  It is not just about allowing private parties to start universities.  The problem of education begins a long way before a student or a parent contemplates higher education. 

We are a nation that is struggling to get our children to pass the O/L.  In fact we must collectively hang our heads in shame at the fact that some of our children don’t make it to Grade 5.  We still haven’t sorted out the mess that is called ‘Grade One Admissions’. Maybe this is why parents just run out of steam by the time their children fail the O/L. No one protests about such failures.   The politicians abandon them. 

To the extent that these issues remain unresolved, they feed discontent. They feed poverty and make endemic poverty a seemingly immovable and ghastly feature of our national landscape.   I wouldn’t say that this situation is ideal breeding ground for future terrorists, but it is nevertheless a situation that needs to be arrested.

We are struggling at the wrong knot and at the wrong time.  What we tend to do is to grapple with the outcome when all that needs to be done is to consider the conditions that generate these results and resolve for the same. 

We can shoot the desperate rural youth who has lost all reasons to hope and recognizes that this losing is a structural flaw that could have been corrected.  We could also keep him in school, not on threat of punishment but putting in policies that help provide the basics which in turn encourage students to dig their heels and acquire the fundamentals that will stand them in good stead throughout their lives.  We seem to be opting for the first. It might seem easy, but it will cost us.  Heavily.  History bears witness to this ‘truth’.   

It is simple: sort it out at the basic level or watch it grow into a monster that’s too big to handle.

[First published in the Daily Mirror, May 10, 2010]

The Chitrasena Magic

This morning I read a piece about 'the new face of the Chitrasena tradition', i.e. the late great dancer's granddaughter.  Made me want to share something I wrote for the Sunday Island almost 8 years ago, on the occasion of the maestro's eightieth birthday. Here goes.

Chitrasena is a national icon. So is Vajira. The people of this country knew this long before the conferring of state honours. For me, Chitrasena was just "Chitrasena Mama", a man with the kindest eyes I have ever seen, who would on certain Saturdays come home to go to Kinross beach with my father. At that time I didn’t know the meaning of the word "icon". I couldn’t for the simple reason that I had never heard the word.

I knew however, even as a child, that Chitrasena Mama was not just someone who visited us now and then.

I distinctly remember my father launch on one of his historical narratives one day at the Kurunegala Railway Station, after I showed him a Ceylon Tourist Board poster depicting the country’s most famous dancing couple. Until then I didn’t know that Chitrasena Mama was a dancer. It took me many years to understand that that too was a paltry description for no single word can capture the versatility of the man.

When I went to the National Art Gallery on Thursday, I thought I knew who Chitrasena was. Although "dance" was never my thing, I was always intrigued by it and, like anyone who insists that the future has to be built on our cultural past, I’ve been a faithful student of art forms, artistes and their histories. Entering the Art Gallery was like walking into another time. The walls, carrying thousands of artifacts that recorded Chitrasena’s determined, dedicated and fulsome embrace with the traditional and ritualistic dance forms of Sri Lanka and of course the creativity he unleashed to drive these in new directions, spoke of two things to me: character and history.

At the age of 80

Each tiny snippet laid out among thousands of other snippets, cried out for more attention than time could ever permit. Each, I thought, spoke not just about Chitrasena, but was an invaluable fragment of our collective search of origin and our relentless challenge to deal with the present. When a person’s work etches itself to history’s multi-coloured, multi-textual tapestry, then alone he or she becomes historical. Like all true artistes, however, Chitrasena never sought that kind of immortality. All he wanted, I imagine, was to dance and to strive for perfection in dance, which I suppose is another kind of immortality.

Hanging on the walls, there is a ves thattuwa, made of silver. It had been gifted to Chitrasena by his teacher, Bevilgamuwe Lapaya Gurunnanse. Lapaya Gurunnanse, following tradition, offered this niyatha vivaranaya of sorts to Chitrasena, his best student, and not to any of his sons, who were also dancers. In Chitrasena’s case, there was also a genetic factor. His father, Seebert Dias, had been a leading Shakespearean actor, producer and director. It was he who, recognising young Chitrasena’s potential, had sent him to India. The Kathakali, the Tagorean dance drama in Shanthinikethan, the art of Uday Shankar, are among the styles Chitrasena danced through before developing his own style and launching "a dance odessey" in Sri Lanka.

As I said, "dance" is foreign to me. Those who know it have this to say about Chitrasena: "Recognising the vast potentials of traditional dance forms, he experimented with form, sound and colour, steering the dance along uncharted paths. Ironically, the old and the new never appeared to his as two separate or distinct entities. The new was but an extension of the old. In essence, two contributions of Chitrasena are undisputed. First, the infusion of the idea of Theatre, the Stage, the world of audience confrontation and entertainment to the Sinhala Dance; and secondly, the actual work proceeding from this conception, transferring our folk dances into gems for modern theatre. From this transformation he created a vehicle of artistic expression for the Sinhala Dance - the Ballet.

One could probably "trace" the contours that he danced along with his troupe, by visiting each and every ballet he produced, Nala Damayanthi, Karadiya, Kinkini Kolama etc. That is not possible in this space. It requires a meticulous biographer to capture all that Chitrasena has done to enhance our cultural sensibilities and refashion our humanity in more gentle ways through his art. The exhibition itself is a biography of sorts.

Only, "reading" it is not within the parameters of the possible. Perhaps the one way to ensure as complete a reading as possible, would be to preserve all the material and make it available for the general public. For Chitrasena does not belong only to those who conferred honours on him. He belongs to the people not least of all because he embraced this land in the most tender way possible: he drew his strength each time his foot touched the earth and he stole nothing when he lifted it, elegantly, of course.

The organisers of the exhibition hope that it will generate funds to complete Chitrasena’s dream project, that of establishing a new Chitrasena Kalayathanaya on land granted to the Chitrasena-Vajira Dance Foundation. It will take more than an exhibition to do this. We would not be a grateful people if we don’t do something about this. For this is no longer "Chitrasena’s Project". It is, it has to be, a National Project, as or more important than the many projects that "win" the "National" label.

What is heartening to know is what Upekha, Chitrasena’s daughter told me. "My niece Heshma has returned after doing a Theatre Arts Degree in the University of California, Berkeley. She can handle all this. Thajithangani, my other niece, is also a dancer. They will carry the tradition forward."

This is the traditional way. It is easy to be thankful. In this case, we ought to do more. I am convinced that we can be patriotic enough to accept the challenge of ensuring that the tradition lives, by helping build the Kalayathanaya.

It is the least we, as a nation, can do by way of saying "thank you" to a human being who did much more than merely dance.

Accountability, reconciliation and community

There are two words that certain people are fascinated with: accountability and reconciliation.  They are so fixated - possible out of a bad dose of ‘Sour Grapes’, exacerbated with undisguised hatred – that they conflate the two or, in the very least, consider the former as part of latter.  Interestingly their venomous discharges are marked by a conspicuous reluctance to indulge in self-reflection.  Neither do they take issue with many crimes of omission and commission on the part of the LTTE, their backers and themselves. 

Kumar David, a man who unabashedly wished for a terrorist victory over the Government Security Forces, for example, feels duty-bound to treat Tiger-claim as fact.  As a result he has to treat any objection to exaggerated claims and unsubstantiated allegation as ‘defence of the indefensible’.  He was referring to my objections to wild claims made by Channel 4 and a motley bunch of intellectually dishonest operators calling themselves ‘International Crisis Group’ in a recent article in the Sunday Island.  I always knew that Kumar doesn’t have a leg to stand on; this piece demonstrated that he is visually handicapped too. He was commenting on a panel discussion in New York (which I participated in via Skype) and proved that he hadn’t been watching or listening.  Poor man. 

Kumar David is one of those eternally displaced Marxists, searching for relevance-straw to cling to, so desperate that he sees saviour in terrorists of all hue and tag, so rabidly anti Sinhala and anti-Buddhist that he will break bread with anyone and everyone who is wont to cast similar slur.  And he will say that it is the ‘correct position for a Marxist to take’.  I pity him. 

What is more important in this business (yes, bucks are involved) of calling for reconciliation and accountability is the deliberate ‘absenting’ of the Tamil offender, i.e. those who killed, maimed, abducted, destroyed, exploded bombs and offered moral and material support to these acts by glorifying, providing money, safe-houses and character-laundry services etc., and remaining silent. 

Dayan Jayatilleka (‘TNA and LLRC’ in ‘The Island’ of December 28, 2011) provides an excellent analysis of this strange footnoting or indeed non-noting.  It’s worth a long quote: ‘The call for an international investigation into the last stages of the war by anyone —such the bulk of the Tamil Diaspora, Tamil civil society and the Tamil National Alliance (TNA)—who did not and still does not condemn the LTTE’s crimes and atrocities, internal executions and secret prisons, child soldiers and fratricidal murders, terrorism and totalitarianism, is as if most of German society did not criticise the Nazis and Auschwitz even after WW 2 ended, and called instead for an international inquiry into the fire-bombing of Dresden by the Allies!’

The TNA, hampered by internal quarrels, appears to be seeking unifying gel in doing what their former task-master, Velupillai Prabhakaran did: play the spoiler.  They are threatening to scuttle discussions if ‘land’ and ‘police’ are not tabled, so to speak.  First of all, a non-territorial problem cannot have a territory-based solution and asking for control over a third of the island and half the coast for less than 6% of the population borders on the insane.  Good for third-rate politicking, nothing else.  More importantly, as Dayan points out, boo-hooing about the inadequacies of the LLRC won’t bring tears to many eyes because the TNA has consistently refused to engage in a self-audit of its own.   

Dayan has a proposal: ‘I strongly urge that the best educated, credentialed and knowledgeable members of Tamil civil society be asked to undertake such an audit. I would think that Prof Ratnajeevan Hoole would be the best to head such an exercise. Others could include P Rajanayagam, S Chandrahasan, Ahilan Kadirgamar, Pakiasothy Saravanamuttu, Nirmala Rajasingham, DBS Jeyaraj and Mutukrishna Sarvanandan among others.’ If the likes of Saravanamuttu are considered ‘educated, credentialed and knowledgeable’, then the Tamil community is poor indeed, given that man’s penchant for number-fudging, issue-dodging and hobnobbing with men and women with questionable integrity, especially with respect to what the LTTE did and did not do.  I do not share Dayan Jayatilleke’s admiration for Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith and the Catholic Church (his religious/ecclesiastical preferences are clearly implied in a reference to both in the same article), but he does have a point.  We are not going anywhere with the kinds of reconciliation that the West wants us to have if ANY OF THE MANY PARTIES are not ready to engage in self-reflection of the kind Dayan proposes, at least on the lines of the LLRC.  Except for nauseating tokenism about the LTTE having been guilty of violence, the Tamil community has been largely mum about its own culpability. Many cheered, many looked the other way and many were direct or indirect lackeys.  The TNA is yet to come clean on its reprehensible mouth-piece role when the Tigers were riding high.  This is where the TNA’s democracy-need falls flat.  If the TNA cannot reconcile with itself and its crimes of omission and commission, it does not have the moral right to demand anything from anyone, least of all accountability and reconciliation.

The TNA has called for ‘peaceful protests’ demanding devolution along with land and police rights.  I suppose this would boost its political fortunes among certain sections of the Tamil community, but it would make more difficult any reconciliation for the simple reason that it would be silly for anyone to ‘reconcile’ with communalists, especially those whose arguments are not supported by history, geography and demography.  Worse still is that it postpones and distracts from the larger and more important exercise of discussing and reaching agreement on constitutional amendments to correct citizenship anomalies and strengthen democracy. 

A key word left out of the discussion has been pointed out by ‘Gara Yaka’ who writes the YAKHANDA column: community.  You can’t have accountability and reconciliation without community.  This constitution and this economic system rebel against the collective.  Talking rot, like David does, celebrating that which is hardly worthy of celebration (like Dayan does) and wearing pout to further personal political agenda cannot help either. 

[Published in 'The Nation', January 1, 2012]

All prisoners can break free

Jagath Marasinghe, friend, palm-reader, astrologer, philosopher, writer and political thinker, once related a prison story.  It was in reference to a question put to him about Ranjithan Gunaratnam.  Ranjithan, whose brother Premakumar was long thought to be the ‘Real Leader’ of the JVP and is said to be The Man of the breakaway group whose public face is Pubudu Jagoda, wasn’t anything like his brother, according to those who know them both.  Ranjithan was fluent in all three languages, a poet, an artist and a highly sensitive individual; he was not a thug and not given to ‘show’ (and tell).  Ranjithan was said to have been abducted, tortured and murdered by vigilante groups in 1989. 

Mare Aiya, as he is known to me, told me that they were both among dozens of young people rounded up, arrested and detained in the mid-to-late eighties.  They were all politically inclined, had lots to discuss and argue over during the long weeks of incarceration.  Mare Aiya had a literary bent and was one of several detainees who decided to put up a play or some concert, I really can’t remember.  Ranjithan, an engineering student at Peradeniya University, had helped with technical things, such as setting up a curtain which could be drawn and closed. 

I remember the story because it told me that human beings are made of something which is irrepressible.

Prisoners, political and otherwise, are like those who are un-incarcerated or shall we say less or differently incarcerated.  They are not one-dimensional.  They have their ups and downs.  They, like those ‘un-barred’ are also subject to the ata lo dahama, the eight inevitable conditions.  Prisoners are not idlers and the prison-industrial complex that defines the United States of America testifies to this.  They constitute ‘cheap labour’.  And yet, in working and non-working hours, common-time and solitary confinement, they think, they dream, the conjure worlds they like to inhabit, name colours yet un-named.  Like all of us.  Some, though, are more creative than others; some more irrepressible than the rest.  Some because they are more politically inclined and others because they are uncontained, regardless enthusiasm for the political.

A month ago, the Filipino political prisoner Ericson Acosta — former editor of the UP Collegian and a detainee for 10 months now at the Calbayog, Samar sub-provincial jail — was named as one of the three finalists in the prestigious 2011 Imprisoned Artist Prize in the Freedom to Create Award Festival in Cape Town, South Africa.  The finalists in the Main and Artist in Prison categories were chosen out of more than 2,000 nominees from 145 countries by a select jury that included Hollywood actress and filmmaker Daryl Hannah, novelist Salman Rushdie and ballet icon Mikhail Baryshnikov, among others, it was reported. The other two finalists are musician Win Maw of Burma and filmmaker Dhondup Wanchen of Tibet. 

I don’t know whether or not the choices are politically motivated, after all even that criminal against humanity, Barack Obama, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. 

For example, English PEN, we are told, ‘was delighted to learn that Burmese poet and comedian Zargana was awarded the Artventure Freedom to Create Imprisoned Artist Prize in its inaugural awards ceremony. The receiver is Burmese and the giver European and that to me is suspicious, regardless of the winner’s credentials.  Winners of such prizes have tended to be objectors to regimes that NATO objects to, one observes. 

The point however is that there is no prison that can completely annihilate the creative urge, not of artists and not of those who would not have such tags.  Not now, and not then.  Here’s one story:

‘Italian World War II prisoners of war broke free of their imprisonment for six weeks in 1945 to unleash artistic skills inside St. Mary?s Catholic Church of Umbarger. St. Mary?s altar is surrounded by artwork created by the prisoners. Two historic plaques hang inside the church recognizing the efforts of the Italian prisoners. The stained-glass windows of the church were imported from Holland. A wood carving of The Last Supper adorns the altar of the church.’

I remember very often a man called Victor Jara, a Chilean Communist who wrote and sang for and among the working class of his land.  I remember how those who overthrew the democratically elected government of Salvadore Allende in 1973 not only captured this singer but cut off his hands.  I know that Victor Jara’s voice didn’t die with him and neither did his lyrics.  I am convinced that whatever the crime, the criminal so labeled is never un-endowed with capacities to trip his/her jailor, legally. 

Faiz Ahmed Faiz spent many years in prison.  He gave life to the incarcerated, the objectors to incarceration and even the legally murdered, for example Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.  Nazim Hikmet of Turkey, probably the poet translated into the most number of languages after Pablo Neruda, also did prison time.  This didn’t stop him from writing the most beautiful and inspiring poetry. 

Life is not a freedom march but life does not forbid either.   We are not masters of our fate and neither are we slaves.  We are not fully free and neither are we completely imprisoned.  There is always space for poetry.  We can always paint the little piece of sky granted to wash our eyes of tears and memory. If nothing, prison walls and iron bars are as good material to construct ‘still life’.  Brecht wrote a long time ago that even in the darkest times, we can still write about the darkness. 

Ranjithan Gunaratnam wrote poetry while he was detained.  His brother is ‘at large’ and uses his freedom for other things.  Different people, different choices.  Mare Aiya lives.  Just lives.  That’s poetic too. 

[Published in 'The Nation' -- 'Eye' Section -- January 1, 2012] 

A WISH-LIST FOR 2012*

Landmark days, like the 1^st of January and, more importantly for us in Sri Lanka, the Aluth Avurudda in the month of Bak, are about renewal, discarding of hang-ups and errors, and a fresh page.  We are now done with 2011.  The year 2012 is ours to inhabit, revel in and decorate.  It is ours to mess up too.

Landmark days, like today, are made of kiribath, some decorations, greeting cards and everyone wishing everyone else makes for good cheer.   That’s all nice but in the end is but thin cover that other imperatives dissolve and pretty fast too. 

The year that left us or which we left, like all years, was yet another endorsement of the ata lo dahama.  Individuals, collectives and institutions were all subjected to the perennial vicissitudes; profit-loss, joy-sorry, praise-blame, and fame- obscurity.  It is unlikely that things will be any different in 2012, except for the shape and wrapping these things arrive in. 

Still, it is as good a moment as any to take stock, jot down some home-truths and make a few recommendations.

TO THE POLITICIAN, ‘The Nation’ says: ‘You are required to represent those who voted for you and not those who funded your campaign or are ready to give you commissions for favours wrought from power-abuse.  Those among you who are in government do not own this country, her resources, heritage, labour-power and culture, but are only temporary custodians.  Those in the opposition are required to point out flaw, offer constructive criticism and alternatives and mobilize people towards correction.  Your internal squabbles are boring.  All of you would do well to reflect now and then on your mortality. 

TO THE PUBLIC SERVANT, ‘The Nation’ says: ‘Your salaries are paid by the people and not the politician, even if the “largesse” of the latter can impact, positively or negatively, your spending capacity and job-frill.  You may not be getting the salary you deserve but you are required to produce value equivalent to what you do get.  We understand that you probably have a family to look after, but urge you to take the long view, Sansaric if you will or, if you believe in a hereafter of divine make, then recommend reflection on Judgment Day. In short, we suggest that “conscience” is of greater worth than the urge to maximize benefit.  Politicians come and go but the public remain.  We salute those of you who do your job, unmoved by brickbats and bouquets, carrying the deadweight that is the incompetence, arrogance and theft-intent of your colleagues.  We hope they become more responsible.  In any event, we are watching them.  They too are mortal.’

TO THE PROFESSIONALS, ‘The Nation’ says: You are doing a thankless job and we appreciate.  We deplore, however, those of you who prey on the miseries, impoverishment and ignorance of those who seek your professional help.  There are those among you who deserve the tag ‘itu deviya’ but there are also others who are like Shylock and worse, like Antonio and Portia extracting far worse than a pound of flesh in the name of ‘justice’ or necessary service. We journalists belong to the same tribe called ‘Professionals’.  We are conscious of our mortality.’

TO THE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, ‘The Nation’ says: ‘We do understand and appreciate the role you play in providing goods and services. We do understand that profit is an important driver.  We are not unaware that in all sectors you operate, there are those among you who engage in white collar crime, who are aware of and are not shy about slipping through legal and other loopholes and are willing and able to grease palms when convenient.  We know you have things to sell and know that not all things you sell are necessary and not all things do what they claim to be.  We applaud your enterprising spirit, but implore you to act like the responsible corporate citizen you claim to be in your annual reports.  You are mortal and moreover, will not take your bucks to the hereafter.     

TO THE BIKKHU, THE AYER, THE MAULAVI, THE PASTOR ETC, ‘The Nation’ says: ‘With all due respect, live the word you speak, administer to the non-material needs of your respective flocks, take inspiration from the lives of your teachers and be worthy of respect and veneration.  All this, not on account of the garb you wear or the temple you reside in but the fact of embodying to the best of ability or your karmic endowment, the word you speak. 

TO THE PEOPLE OF THIS NATION, ‘The Nation’ says: ‘This country is yours and if it is flawed in leader and institution that is partly reflection of your inadequacies, including apathy, lack of courage and sloth.  This country is yours in both its making and breaking, its slippages and renewal.  Spit on it and you spit on yourself.  It is yours to make fragrant, yours to defile.   This nation is yours.  This nation is you. 

Let 2012 be a year where we take concrete steps towards becoming, as pointed out in the column ‘YAKHANDA’, ‘a society based on community (including workplace) accountability, all united to protect our lands, airs and seas, and most importantly, the sweat of our labor!’

*'The Nation' editorial, January 1, 2011