Let us be quite clear about this; appropriation of the term 'patriotism' along with troublingly straitjacket connotations of honour, love for one's country and duty, by a rogue administration is not peculiar to Sri Lanka. Indeed, this has been one of the most effective weapons used repeatedly by regimes throughout the world intent on perpetuating its political agendas rather than protecting the country or its people.
Religious fervour is part of this commonplace pattern. Appeals made by the Nixon administration and J Edgar Hoover to the 'moral strength' of the American people in supporting the war in Vietnam amidst fervent cries to God and the Church, offers a chilling example as to what havoc can be wreaked in the name of patriotism. In turn, America's rebellious young, in the backdrop of John Lennon's most intensely charged music of that time, rallied around the simple but eloquent slogan 'To protest is patriotic.'
In truth, the heady success of the anti-war movement during that time reminds us of how precisely, the rhetoric of a monumentally subversive administration can be defeated. That such rebellion was unique to that particular historical context is however illustrated by the easy if not laconically amoral way in which the Bush administration engaged its war on terror', using in turn, 'patriotism' and 'religion' to good advantage. Unlike the Vietnam war, which was not played on America's streets, the 'war on terror' was spun on a differently persuasive rationale which served the administration well, (particularly in a lucrative sense), till the waning of its term.
Powerfully subversive logic
All this is not to say, of course, that superficial comparisons can be drawn between wars elsewhere and the conflict in Sri Lanka. What I contest head on however is the agonizingly simplistic notion that to protest is unpatriotic or that to criticize is to invite (justifiably, as implied), retribution. This has, after all, been the constantly unappetizing mantra chanted by President Mahinda Rajapaksa and his brother, Defence Secretary Gotabhaya Rajapaksa. The logic is powerfully subversive; the government can be, (as is patronizingly conceded), criticized but the army cannot be subjected to scrutiny. And the warning does not stop at that. Instead, it proceeds to articulate a theme that is almost ludicrous in its import; that, if this rule is flouted, the executive will be powerless to prevent violations of the life and liberty of the dissenters.
The duty of the government to protect
A number of questions arise then for discussion. Are we maintaining that the armed services of which the President is the Commander-in-Chief is a law unto itself, as much as the President himself is, (as per the constitutional immunity conferred in 1978 by the misguided drafters of this current constitutional document), above the law? Are we saying that, as much as we may support young men and women mostly from Sri Lanka's villages who go to the frontlines to defend the country against an enemy which is most brutal and cunning, that the military hierarchy should be rendered immune from criticism even in the face of reports from justices of the Supreme Court who have found irregularities in the procurement processes? If not, what exactly are we saying here? It is time and more that the Rajapaksa presidency was asked by the media community and indeed, by the citizens of this country, as to what is meant when it is said that the government cannot protect those who criticize the military.
The Indian democratic process
The Indian establishment is famously known for lapsing into severe hysterics whenever Indian human rights activists attempt to criticize the government abroad. The defence is that India's national institutions, including the Indian judiciary have sufficiently demonstrated that they can countenance vigorous and sustained criticism, leading to healthy reforms in many instances. This being the case, it is argued, there need not be any recourse to redress from outside. And though I may sympathise with my Indian friends when they are outraged by such extreme defensiveness, it has to be acknowledged that the Indian democratic process, including the freedoms of the press, information, assembly and association, does afford some freedom in this respect.
Where could we go to protest?
But, can the same be said of Sri Lanka? Dangers implicit in dissent are sufficiently clear. The Sunday Times columnist J.S. Tissainayagam has now been detained without formal charges being brought against him for more than one hundred and twenty five days. The Nation's defence columnist Keith Noyahr has been forced to flee for his life. Recent attacks on an employee of the Sri Lanka Press Institute and the political officer of the British High Commission are further ample warning that the line will not be drawn at defence columnists or those writing on the conflict. There is little hope that any redress will be afforded in these cases. So, to whom or to what do we protest? As a columnist writing for this paper on what has now become the vastly unpopular subject of human rights protections, do I have any confidence that I will be immune from attack or that if I am indeed, attacked in some way that the system will afford me justice?
Unfortunately, the answers to these questions must remain resoundingly and disturbingly in the negative. |
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