Sri Lanka: drift to fascism?
by Prof. Charles Sarvan
From this distance in time and space, it seems to me that Sri Lanka is in danger of
drifting into some form of fascist dictatorship, and so I feel obliged to write, even
though I am not a political scientist, a historian, nor a sociologist: to remain silent is
also to be indifferent and irresponsible.
Etymologically, "fascism" is derived from fasces, the bundle of rods with a projecting
axe blade carried in ancient Roman times as a symbol of a magistrate's power. Around
the time of World War II, there were people and parties proud to proclaim they were
fascist. Today, largely as a result of the crimes against humanity then perpetrated, the
term is pejorative. It has become a Schimpfwort, a term of abuse, used with little
understanding, applied loosely to a person or persons thought to be ultra nationalistic,
authoritarian and intolerant, the last an inevitable concomitant of the first three. I will
endeavour to describe a few of the characteristics of fascism; point to factors which
lead to its rise, and suggest that some of the last are present in the island, mindful that
those living in Sri Lanka are better situated to answer the question: I do not make
assertions but merely pose a possibility.
All fascist states are dictatorships, but not all dictatorships fascist. Fascism is an
extreme right-wing ideology that celebrates the nation or the state above all other
loyalties: "Everything in the State, nothing outside the State, nothing against the State"
(Mussolini, 28 October 1925). Fascism, preaching "the cult of the nation, contempt for
rationalism and universalism, and hatred for democracy, liberalism and Marxism"
constantly maintains an "atmosphere of feverish excitement": The New York Review of
Books, 12 May 2005, page 52. However, where "nation" is concerned fascism,
rejecting multiethnicity and inclusiveness (attitudes and treatment urged by expatriate
Sri Lankans of their new homes) claims that one group, and only those composing that
group, represent the "true" nation: "racial", linguistic, or religious nationalism. Fascism
harbours and propagates notions of group "purity" and exclusiveness. It excludes
those outside the privileged group even though they may have lived in the country for
generations. An exclusive and excluding belief in one's own group leads to notions of
superiority: every single member of the group irrespective of character and conduct in
private or public life, irrespective of qualification or contribution is superior to any and
all of the "other". If prejudice allows exceptions, it's on the argument that "exceptions
prove the rule". So all "White" people are better (in intelligence as in morality) than all
people of colour; all men are superior to all women; all Sinhalese are superior to all
Tamils, and so on. Unfortunately, exceptions encountered by the prejudiced, rather
than provoking thought or undermining their existing assumptions, serve only to
confirm to them the general validity of their beliefs: it's not easy to dismantle group
prejudice formed and hardened over the years.
In the service of the state and of the privileged group, fascism celebrates
"masculinity", force, and the regenerative power of violence. Until they come to power,
fascist groups rely on "volunteers" to incite the public, and to violently disrupt
oppositional meetings. Those of the privileged group who advocate discussion and
peaceful means are dismissed as foolish or as weak and timid; those who urge, "Treat
others as you yourself would like to be treated," looked down upon with contempt.
Such individuals are seen as aberrations; going further, as traitors who deserve to be
intimidated, if not attacked, even eliminated. Superficially, fascism is a popular or mass
movement, but with its emphasis on the state, with its demand for military discipline
and unquestioning obedience, real power rests not with the people but in an
individual, a supreme leader, embodying the will of the people and the state, and in
the small group that surrounds him. Fascism, generally, has been a masculine
movement, and though women of the privileged group were seen as cooperating and
helping in the total effort, their role was largely in the domestic sphere, particularly in
the bringing up of children who had the "correct" values and attitudes. In that sense,
fascism, while claiming to be radical and forward-looking, is also traditional. Indeed, it
claims to be inspired by, and to seek the re-establishment of, a past that was great
and glorious, wholesome and pure: the ideology is secular and spiritual, martial and
romantic, violent and idealistic, revolutionary and conservative.
History shows that often a corollary of righteousness is cruelty: the ready and
unquestioning willingness to be cruel to those who are different or who differ. To hate
and to be violent become badges of virtue and patriotism: the greater the hate, the
greater the willingness to be intolerant and violent, ipso facto, the greater the
patriotism: Descartes Cogito ergo sum (I think. Therefore, I am) becomes, "I hate.
Therefore, I'm patriotic". Fascism may mobilise the masses in the struggle for power
but it's against socialism because the latter sees the "nation" on the basis of the
horizontal lines of class, rather than on the vertical lines of "race", language or
religion. Socialism forms links, makes common cause, with workers from other groups,
both within and outside the country, leading to, if not divided loyalties and sympathies,
then to a dilution of total commitment to the state, its leader and his immediate
supporters. Fascist leaders may make use of a religion, its priests or monks, and of its
fervent adherents: those who hold other religious beliefs are wrong; and being wrong,
they are inferior; being inferior, they are undeserving of equal rights and humane
treatment. This particular (religious) _expression of fascism may be termed spiritual
fascism. However, once in power, those who represent religion must either fully join
the state or be content with serving and supporting it. An exception is when priests,
mullahs or monks come to power and declare themselves to be the representatives of
the true state: sometimes, the greed for power masquerades as religion,
righteousness, and a religion-based (as opposed to a secular) morality. Fascism may
achieve power through legitimate means, but its true and awful nature is revealed only
once it's securely in power in other words, when it's too late.
As for the factors that lead to the rise of fascism, perhaps the most important is
economic: economic distress and desperation; unemployment and inflation, in turn
leading to social unrest, sporadic acts of violence and lawlessness. Fascism thrives in
an atmosphere of anger and frustration, of confusion and hopelessness, with
democracy hopelessly adrift and failing to deliver. The present sorry state of affairs is
contrasted with a constructed past (more imaginary than real) when the nation stood
at a height of achievement, prosperity and greatness. The contrast between this
imagined past and the present is extreme and, therefore, extremely mortifying. In this
situation, a messiah steps onto the stage, the leader of a party who promises a simple
and quick way to economic and social, cultural and moral salvation. He offers not only
prosperity but purity, a return to the old (noble and heroic) ways of life. The nation is
partly reproached: it has forgotten its true or earlier self; strayed from the old ways
and become decadent. But primarily (when not entirely), the responsibility for the
present unhappy state of affairs is placed on the other group or groups. For example,
British fascists attribute what they see as the decline of "great" Britain to the coming of
people of colour, confusing coincidence with cause. The word "scapegoat" derives
from the old Jewish tradition of symbolically placing all the sins of the community onto
a goat, then chasing the unfortunate creature into the wilderness, and so cleansing
society: fascism fashions its own scapegoat, and tries to exterminate or to drive it away
into the political, economic and social wilderness. At the very least, fascism will attempt
to bring that (scapegoat) group under total control and subordination.
Though history may repeat itself, it does not do so identically and, where Sri Lanka is
concerned, it would be futile and foolish to look for exact parallels. However, one notes
that among many Sri Lankans, despite the work of scientists and scholars, there still
persists the belief in the existence of "race", more precisely, in a separate,
homogeneous, Sinhalese "race". This belief is partly fostered by treating myths,
particularly foundation (or originary) myths, as if they were history: an equal absurdity
would be for Italians today to take the Romulus and Remus story seriously. Extreme
parties describing themselves as "national" are virulently "race" and religion
(Buddhism) based. The ethnic conflict between the Sinhalese army and the Tamil
Tigers remains unsettled, and though there is no full-scale conflict at present, there is
no peace in the true sense of the word. Certain groups, both secular and religious
(the distinction is becoming blurred in a Sri Lanka seemingly on the way to becoming a
theocracy) foment "racial" hate and hysteria. The Tamils are seen as foreigners (as I
have asked elsewhere, after centuries, does it matter that one group arrived on the
island on a Monday and the other on a Friday?), demonised, and made the scapegoat
for present ills. Since hate is seen as a sign of patriotism, there is a propensity to
resort to vulgar abuse and violence. Indeed, as several commentators have noted,
there has developed in Sri Lanka a culture of violence. Fear and anxiety are created
in the people so that an overwhelming majority comes to have that sense of fear and
insecurity which members of a small minority feel. As the Nazi leader, Hermann
Goering, remarked to an interviewer during his trial, it is very easy to mobilise the
people: just tell them they are in great [moral, religious, physical] danger; denounce
those who deny this claim as being unpatriotic or cowardly, and say that such people
will eventually expose the country to even greater danger. So easy, cynical and cruel
seems to be the path to political power.
The economic situation in Sri Lanka is dire, with unemployment and rising prices.
Since independence, successive governments have promised much and delivered
very little, and there is disenchantment with democracy. Corruption is endemic, and
has infected those organs of state seen as the citizen's protection and last resort: the
police and the judicial system. It is believed by many that the Lord Buddha chose Sri
Lanka as the place where his teaching would be preserved in all its "purity" (sic). This
sense of a divinely chosen people and place creates in some Buddhists (by no means
in all) a militant stridency and intolerance: the belief seems to sanction hatred and
violence even to sanctify it. The contradiction between such thoughts, words, actions
on the one hand, and the teachings of the otherworldly, moderate and compassionate
Buddha on the other is rationalised, proving yet again that religion does not determine
the nature of society: it is society that determines the nature and _expression of
religion differently at different times. However, despite "racial" and religious fervour
and fanaticism; despite (verbally) upholding ancient Sinhalese-Buddhist values,
corruption and crime are rampant, and where prostitution and paedophilia are
concerned, the island is notorious all of which, of course, point to the primary
importance of economic factors. Though certain right-wing parties in Sri Lanka may
advocate people-centred economic policies, this avatar is more accurately described
as "religio-racist socialism": it is not socialism as understood internationally. Add to the
mixture fond notions of the past, and the portents are sombre. Life for most is a grim,
daily, struggle. The people are disillusioned and angry; frustrated and confused. The
Romans distracted their people by staging bloody contests in the arena: some Sri
Lankan governments and political parties do so with "racism" and Buddhism.
(Recently, success in international cricket has brought diversion, and a much-needed
measure of pride.) The contrast is between a great and virtuous past, and a decadent,
squalid, present. "Let's move forward by going back to the past" seems to be the
feeling of many. There is a longing for decency and "discipline", and for urgent (but
immediate and simplistic) solutions. Political parties and personalities have small
armies, a group of men ready to take to the streets at short notice and be noisy and
unruly, violent and dangerous.
If fascism comes to power in Sri Lanka, it will probably declare "total war" on the
Tamils, making no distinction between the "Tigers" and Tamil civilians. Many may
approve and applaud but, as history shows, the final price paid is terribly high, both by
the victims and by the fascist state and its people. Nationalisation and government
control of the economy will not be in the interest of the poor but of the state. Fascist
rhetoric exhilarates and energises; it brings hope (material, spiritual and cultural), and
it's not only the "poor, ignorant, masses" who succumb to its blandishments and
"quick-fix" promises: the ideology, as powerful as it is irrational and pernicious,
appeals to people from all strata and sections of the group. For example, during my
last visit to Sri Lanka (December 2004), the daughter-in-law of the Sinhalese-Buddhist
friend whose guest I was told me she would vote for a particular, extreme right-wing,
party. When I inquired why, she replied, "Because they really care for the poor;
because they are moral, organized and disciplined". The speaker is intelligent, has
studied and traveled abroad, and works as a computer expert. Sri Lankans will do well
to remember that fascist dictatorships finally turn on their own, and fascist dreams
become nightmares first for members of other groups and, finally, for those who were
deluded and went along with that dream.
At present, certain factors impede a fascist victory; for example there is no charismatic
fascist leader, and the two main political parties still have a strong electoral base. But
we must be cautious: as it has been said, those who do not learn from history are
condemned to repeat its mistakes. Within the bounds of chance and circumstance,
individuals and people make their own destiny (Clifford Geertz, NYRB, 24 March 2005,
p. 4). I will be glad to have my fear proved foolish and false, but to assume that
because something has never happened (in independent Sri Lanka), it will not come
to pass, seems to me to be dangerous complacency.
The writer is attached to the English and Political Science Departments of the
University of Berlin.