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Studying Collective Consciousness over Time in -- Michael Roberts The first part of this article was written
when Michael Roberts was a Senior Visiting Fellow at the International Centre
for Asian Studies, University of Leiden, Netherlands from September to December
1995; and was published in one of their Newsletters under the heading
“Understanding Zealotry & Questions for Post-Orientalism.” The emphasis
then was informed by my interest in the embodied emotions that have spurred assaults
during pogroms and riots. This section, now designated Part I under an altered
title, has been modified in minor ways for this publication, while citations
and footnotes have been added. Its arguments have then been elaborated in a
second part that also reflects upon the author’s journeys in the interim. In
thus underlining the temporal ‘progression’ of his thinking, this article
serves to emphasise the continuities in his position within the shifting
context of academic production, while yet marking new developments in his
experiential understandings. A bibliography has also been added. Obviously,
this list has been cast in 2006 and not when Part I was written. From 1991-95 In late 1991 while engaged in a critical view of the
instrumentalist readings of nationalist violence in South Asia, I penned an
essay on the anti-Tamil pogrom of July 1983 in The essay was written in a particular mood. It adopts
a personalised literary mode of expression and seeks to depict the interface of
human violence. It also challenges the bourgeois and middle class tendency to
foist the agency for violence primarily on state functionaries or persons of a
lumpen kind.[ii] My
conviction is that many ‘ordinary people’ have participated in major “riots” in
Sri Lanka and India; and that quite normal people, myself included, are capable
of killing an ethnic Other in specific circumstances.
The work of Sinhala ideologies in both the British and
post-colonial eras is thick with references to their ancient past. Tamil
ideologues today have taken up these cudgels. History writing has become part
of contemporary legitimations and verbal battles. Several scholars have begun
to challenge this use and misuse of history, seeking thereby to undermine the
intellectual ground of chauvinism. Some (e.g. R.A.L.H. Gunawardana 1990) have
presented a variant of a modernisation thesis which highlights the
transformations wrought under the British and the influence of racialist
thought about the Aryan origins of the Sinhalese inspired by the work of Max
Muller.
The post-Orientalist interventions are quite salutary.
In particular they warn us against reading the present back to the past and
challenge us to work out a more sophisticated understanding of change. Though I
share their antipathy to chauvinism, nevertheless I believe their approaches
contain shortcomings, drawbacks that are both ethnographic and analytical. It
is this engagement with post-Orientalism that I have begun to take up amidst my
other projects. Sinhala Ideology in the Vamsa Texts For those unfamiliar with the ethnographic context it
can be noted that in
Such developments resulted in the amplified
reconstitution of the Sinhala ideology when the Mahāvamsa was brought up to date in the thirteenth century.[viii]
The invaders are presented as “blood-sucking demons” and “Kerala devils;” as
purveyors of wickedness and “false views” (i.e. Saivite Hinduism). There are
explicit references to “the Sinhalas” who opposed the various aliens on behalf
of “that fair lady, the
The fuller implications of these perspectives demand
careful and theoretically sophisticated historical research.[xi]
I do not have the linguistic skills to engage in such exercises. I can only raise
questions and hypotheses. The state ideology cannot be viewed only through the
prism of political events. There must be attentiveness to the cultural and
literary processes, including the movement to simplify and de-Sanskritize the
Sinhala language which Vidāgama Thera and others initiated in the fifteenth
century. Likewise, attention has to be paid to the expressions of Sinhala
sentiment -- if at all -- in ritual dramas, oral stories and iconic
representations. These modalities and the literate texts influenced each other.
One of the weaknesses of Gunawardana’s seminal essay is its total immersion in
the written sources of history (Roberts 1993: 142-43). In his work, the oral
does not count.[xii]
Post-Orientalist writings have latched on to the
evidence of such heterogeneity and cultural exchange to limit the significance
that one should attach to the Sinhala:Tamil opposition in pre-British times. Unfortunately,
Tambiah too leans in this direction (1992: 139). A few scholars would even seem
to deny the pertinence of the categories or the opposition.[xiii]
That is my complaint. The post-Orientalist literature on medieval Sri Lanka
does not consider the possible pertinence of a segmentary structure of
affiliation that permitted the critical significance of caste identities among
the Sinhalese during the everyday round of existence without negating the force
of Sinhalaness at critical sites/moments
(Roberts 2004: 17, 30-33, 136, 161). Therefore, the Sinhalization of Tamil
immigrants in southern Lanka did not dissolve the pertinence of the categories
Sinhala and Tamil within the geo-political context of the island -- and thus in
the theology of state purveyed by the re-working (written, oral, performative,
iconic) of the vamsa traditions. The
problem lies with those post-Orientalists who have interpreted this material in
terms of the exclusivist modalities of an either/or epistemology. They, too,
have read the twentieth century into the past. The post-Orientalist work on Sri Lanka is also
vitiated by an undemonstrated assumption that in the Sinhala kingdoms of the
‘medieval’ period there was a massive gap between the mythology/ideology of the
ruling classes and the ordinary folk -- in a context where ‘the masses’ have to
be centred among the cultivating ranks of the Govigama caste which made up
perhaps half the Sinhala population. But even more critically the debate has
been influenced by the twentieth century conflict to the point that its
historical investigations are restricted to a survey of Sinhala-Tamil
relations. The influence of Portuguese and Dutch colonialism on Sinhala
consciousness has been kept out of the picture.[xiv]
This is where Colonial Influences
In overviews of the Indian land mass and its history,
to say “pre-colonial” is equivalent to saying “pre-British.” For From the 1530s the Portuguese engaged in war with
interior Sinhala states, usually on behalf of the vassal rulers of Kotte. Once
the emperor of Kotte was dead, they sought to rule in their own name and
embarked on a conquest of the lowlands in the 1590s. Whilst contending with a
succession of rebellions they also attempted but failed to conquer the highland
For this reason they receive much sharper diatribes in
the Sinhala historical traditions than the Dutch and the British. It is
therefore of some significance that the anti-Portuguese and anti-Christian
polemics within the hatana (war)
poems in Sinhala produced in the 17th century were also tinged with a more
generalised hostility to threats foreign in ways that embraced the Tamils and
Hindus (see C.R. de Silva 1983: 15-17).[xvi] The Dutch of the VOC were less inclined to indulge in
military dominance than the Portuguese. They were also ready to use accept the
‘fiction’ that they were “the guardians of the coast” on behalf of the king
(Arasaratnam 1958: 111-12). That is, they accepted the rhetoric and gained the
trade goods. To them, commodity was value. To the Sinhalese in Displacing the Dutch in 1796, the British entered the
scene at one moment in their imperial upsurge. They suffered a severe military
setback at the hands of the Kandyan Sinhalese in 1803. Encouraged by this event
and memories of previous Kandyan wars against invaders, as well as cosmological
notions, a Kandyan courtier told the British authorities in 1811 that “One
thing is certain, no foreign foe, be it British, Dutch, French, or Kaffir; will
conquer Lanka. Through the protection of the four gods, the Guardians of its
Religion and the Merits of the king, for five thousand years no foe will continue
to reside here” (quoted in Malalgoda 1970: 433).[xviii] This confidence was misplaced. The British gained
control of In doing so let me stress that I write as a tuppahi -- a term that has multiple and
overlapping meanings, but can best be translated as “mongrel.”[xx]
This act of self-identification, needless to say, is moulded by the
contemporary circumstances of nationalisms in conflict within WORKS CITED Arasaratnam, S. 1958 “Dutch sovereignty in Ceylon: a historical survey of its problems,” Ceylon Gunawardana, R. A. L. H. 1990 “ ‘The People of the Lion’: the Sinhala identity and ideology inhistory and historiography,” in J. Spencer (ed.) Sri Lanka. History and the Roots of Conflict,London: Routledge, pp. 45-86.Holt, John C. 1991 Buddha in the crown, New York, Oxford University Press.
[i] See Roberts 2003 and the other articles in this issue of Nēthra as well as Kanapathypillai 1990 and Thornton & Niththiyananthan 1984. [ii] I have occasionally been faced with this interpretation in the
drawing rooms of middle class houses in [iii] See National Geographic 1979,
p. 138 for a picture of Sivakumaran’s statue after it had been knocked down by
army personnel as one step in an ongoing symbolic struggle. Sivakumaran’s act
was prior to the inception of the LTTE. In the 1990s he was accorded the status
of māvīrar (great hero) and
incorporated into the LTTE pantheon. Also see Roberts 2005 and n.d. [iv] See Lutz & White 1996, Daniel 1996 and Roberts 1998/99. This is an intricate and complex topic. I cannot say that I have even scratched the surface. However, my studies of the diaries kept by Anagarika Dharmapala provide some insights into the imperatives that drove this vehement Sinhala Buddhist extremist (Roberts 1997 and 2000). [v] This path has eventually led to Roberts 1996b, 1997, 2000, 2001a & b, 2002a as well as 2003b. [vi] Jon Walters entered this listing in 1995 because of a comment on his part in a review of KNO Dharmadasa’s book in Anthropological Linguistics, 1994, vol. 33, 2, pp. 330-32. Moreover, in an early exchange of ideas with me (letter dated 26 Sept. 1995) he stressed that: “even the utter repetition of ancient thoughts or practices can become a highly original act in changing historical circumstances; the past change as it becomes part of the present (it is both constituted by the present, i.e. conceived and described in the light of the present) and it is constitutive of the present (i. e. productive of current socio-historical circumstances).” Unlike the others in this list he has engaged in detailed empirical research into the pre-modern era (e.g. Walters 2000). [vii] Further elaboration can be found in [viii] See Cūlavamsa 1953, Pūjāvaliya 1997 and Kemper 1996. For new insights, see Walters 2000. [ix] Cūlavamsa 1953, II: 11. For elaboration of the terminology see Roberts 2004: 52-60. [x] The term used depended on whether it was Elu Sinhala, Pali, Palicized Sinhala and Sanskritic Sinhala that was being deployed; and also varied according to the metrical demands of poetry. It is my speculation that the innovative addition of the prefix Tri, or Three in an honorific sense, to the ancient place name was a parallelism informed by the idea of the “Triple Gem” or Three Refuges (tunsarana) associated with the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha – a concept capable of being vested with miraculous power. [xi] Walters (2000), Holt (1991, 1996 and 2005) and Strathern (2006b and n.d.) have begun to show the way on this front. [xii] Note my early criticisms of Gunawardana’s work (1993). For a fuller illustration of the significance of oral and visual modes of cultural transmission, see Roberts 2002b & 2004: chap. 2 as well as WA de Silva 1915/16, Sarachchandra 1966, Bandaranayake 1986 and one of the Dambulla wall paintings in Deraniyagala 1942: 115. For further collaboration from Portuguese sources see Strathern 2006b. [xiii] For instance, Nissan & Stirrat 1990, Pfaffenberger 1994 and, subsequently, Rajasingham-Senanayake 1999. In contrast, Spencer does stress that it would be “absurd” to claim that “the categories ‘Sinhala’ and ‘Tamil’ are somehow colonial inventions” (1990a: 4). [xiv] Alan Strathern has also underlined this contention recently (2006b). [xv] This paragraph has benefited from an intervention by Strathern. See his forthcoming book (n. d.) for fresh material that augments the earlier work by Abeyasinghe and CR de Silva. [xvi] My book (2004) can be regarded as a detailed elaboration of the insight provided briefly in CR de Silva’s brief comments. Also see Strathern 2006a and 2006 b. [xvii] The term Sīhala had (has) two meanings in the references pertaining to the period extending from the 17th to early 19th centuries: one to the territories directly administered by the kings of Sitāvaka or Kandy; and the other to the whole island as overlorded by the kings of Sitāvaka and/or Kandy In this latter usage it drew on the antecedents associated with the label and other equivalents such as Sīhaladīpa, Trisinhala, Siri Laka, Lakdiva, Hela and Tunsinhalaya. [xviii] For a detailed filling out of the ideology prevailing in the last decades of Kandyan rule, see Duncan 1990 and Roberts 2004: chaps. 6 and 8. [xix] The first part of this project now bears the title Sinhala consciousness in the Kandyan period,
1590s-1815, [xx]See Roberts et al 1989 and Roberts 1994: chap. 14 5for further clarification. For its deployment in the war poems of the late middle period, see Roberts 2004: 126-29, 136 and Strathern 2006b. Michael Roberts is Professor of Anthropology at the University of Adelaide |