As reporters of daily news, we are fixated on the here and now — things being said today, happenings unfolding this moment. Social media is especially unsparing, with its relentless updates hogging our attention and shrinking its span.
All the same, virtually every reporting assignment throws up something from the past. An important event, a leader or her actions, a consequential law, an unkept promise, a quirky anecdote, a policy move, or a media expose — anything that has shaped or has a bearing on today’s realities.
On May 21, annually observed as ‘International Tea Day,’ Sri Lanka’s Malaiyaha Tamil community, which is marking 200 years since its arrival from southern India to work for the British in plantations in the island’s hill country, adopted a declaration calling for affirmative action. While the declaration sought solutions, and decisive policy action on several contemporary challenges, including the estate workers’ abject living and working conditions, the first point read: “We as a community whose existence is a struggle resolve to remember our past and transfer the memories of our 200-year journey of struggles and achievements to the next generation.”
These lines instantly took me back to a press conference in October 2019. Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who was elected President the following month, was addressing the media for the first time since he was declared the presidential candidate of the Rajapaksas’ Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna. We quizzed him on various political and economic issues. He appeared a little irritable while responding to some questions, especially follow-up ones on Sri Lanka’s rights record. “You’re talking about the past all the time, let’s talk about the future. I am trying to become the President of a future Sri Lanka,” he said, asking us to “move on.”
More recently, as families of Tamils killed during the end of Sri Lanka’s civil war paid respects to their loved ones on May 18, state authorities, as usual, commemorated the following day as ‘Victory Day,’ hailing soldiers as war “heroes.” Foreign Minister Ali Sabry said in a tweet: “Today, we remember the historic day 14 years ago when #terrorism was defeated in our beloved #SriLanka. On this solemn day, we appreciate those who selflessly sacrificed themselves in the name of #peace and #harmony. These #heroes battled not for division.” Many more from the government, and other interlocutors from the Sinhala-majority south, put out similar messages. As has been the practice for 14 years now, they made no mention of the tens of thousands of civilians who died in the indiscriminate shelling of the armed forces, including in areas that were declared “no fire zones”.
Days later, on May 21, the authorities made note of ‘International Tea Day,’ with celebratory messages on “Ceylon Tea.” Again, it was hard to find any mention of the nearly 1.5 lakh working in the tea estates, whose backbreaking labour goes into making the internationally famed tea, while earning vital foreign exchange for the island.
This tendency is not typical to Sri Lanka alone; it is a trait among those holding power everywhere. They have the luxury of selectively reading history, or not reading it at all. They have the power to remain silent on portions that make them uneasy. They have the audacity to distort or even erase parts that expose them. They have the choice to remember, or to forget. But ordinary people don’t. And they will not, for their lives, as they know and experience it today, is a continuation of their ancestors’, and not a clean break. Recalling neglected histories, in their case, is also an act of resistance in the struggle to forge a better future.
For journalists, regardless of the story we are following today, context is key. And therefore, history is inevitable.
meera.srinivasan@thehindu.co.in
