A new identity for Sri Lanka

By Uditha Devapriya

Sri Lanka’s geographic position has often been called strategic, important, pivotal, and vital. Recent developments have only reinforced these claims, especially in the context of moves towards greater economic and cultural integration with India. Such moves may be opposed by certain groups, on both sides, for obvious geopolitical reasons.

Indeed, ever since news of the Sri Lankan government’s grand design on connectivity with India came out, there has been a flurry of debates and discussions over whether the country should move closer to India or whether it should avoid it. Although the consensus is that India cannot be sidelined, integration with it presents its own share of challenges and obstacles.

Leaving aside its strategic location and its proximity to one of Asia’s most promising next generation giants – a claim that cannot be lightly dismissed, even if talk of the country replacing China as a manufacturing hub seem overdrawn and overhyped – what else does Sri Lanka possess? Its incredible cultural and social diversity? It would be tempting to say so.

But the truth is that, for the better part of the last 75 years, this diversity has been a source of conflict. It has never served as a prop for unity, though diversity in unity, as a tagline, has been frequently associated with the island. Indeed, as far as marketing goes, Sri Lanka has never shied away from using its immense cultural DNA to propel itself on to the world stage. Yet there remains a rift between what it aims at and where it is.

What explains this rift? I would contend that Sri Lanka, and Sri Lankans, are yet to come to terms with their own history. We misunderstand our history. Instead of using it as a launch pad for the future, instead of using it to constructively market the country, we keep harping about identities, often wielding culture to reinforce the superiority of one collective over all others. But a country’s identity is national: it is general and all-encompassing, not specific and exclusivist. This is a point that Sri Lankans are yet to concede, and a point that officials pretend to be aware of, a point they are not cognisant of. But if we are to use history to pave a path to the future, we must do more than harp on about the glories of our past.

I am not of the soft power/hard power school: I sincerely believe there is no difference between them, contrary to what international relations theorists may say. A country can use soft power only if it possesses economic clout or military might, or both. In other words, soft power emanates from hard power: a country cannot use the former if it does not possess the latter.

Yet there are exceptions to this. A small state, lodged between more than two superpowers, in the throes of a deep financial crisis and on the verge of negotiating a way out, a path to recovery, cannot hope or pretend to wield economic influence, especially if, even in the best of times, it could not wield it. Cultural diplomacy has its limits, and yet for a small state like Sri Lanka, it also has much potential, and promise.

The problem with Sri Lanka, or rather its foreign policy apparatus, is that while it harps on about its historical ties with various countries, it has not used such connections to solidify bilateral ties. The Sri Lankan identity – a mishmash of identities, drawn from different regions, cultures, even civilisations – can be immensely advantageous for a small state in the throes of a crisis. Yet far from emphasising its distinctive identity, it has only followed a policy of deep ambiguity: while it constantly invokes its historical connections, it has done little to buttress those connections with the hard work needed to take bilateral ties forward. A case in point would be Central Asia: Sri Lanka keeps highlighting the Silk Road connection, yet has done little to increase engagement with the region.

Its use of culture and history is no different. People compare Sri Lanka to a melting pot of different cultures. Yet to me it’s more comparable to an achcharu. A melting pot is not an achcharu: the different identities there melt into one cohesive identity. As Regi Siriwardena noted long ago, Sri Lanka should be focusing less on promoting a single Sri Lankan identity and more on promoting its incredible array of identities and cultures, ranging from the old and pristine to the modern and revolutionary. Viewed this way, the ruins of Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa, and Dambulla are just as evocative of our past, culture, and heritage, as Wally Bastianz’s “Babi Achchige Bicycle Eka”, A. E. Manoharan’s “Surangani”, and George Keyt’s Cubist impressions of the Mara Yuddhaya at the Gotami Viharaya. Sri Lanka may be 2,500 years old, but it does not have to go as far back as 2,500 years.

Sri Lanka’s contemporary culture has often been described as derivative and predicable. I am in the minority who agree with this view. But that is less of a weakness, less of a limitation, than it may appear. Cultures and histories progress through evolution, and evolution, it must be conceded, involves appropriation, sometimes imitation.

Thus, instead of looking condescendingly down on our “modern” culture or being laid back and complacent about our “glorious past”, we should avoid both extremes and strive to use our identity the way our ancestors did. The four ambassadors sent to the court of Emperor Claudius centuries ago were all representative of this identity: it has been surmised that they were non-Sinhalese, that they were all Tamils. The Romans did not bother about this. As H. A. J. Hulugalle has noted, all they were concerned with was that these ambassadors came from Ceylon, and that they were Sri Lankans first and Sri Lankans last.

Perhaps that should be our strategy, our way forward, our redemption.

The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.