Ethnicity, Empathy and Education

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Sri Lanka is close to the abyss. A mere push, in the form of the ‘Final War’ or something of similarly strong rhetoric or action can, and will, take us over the edge. And we will fall into the bottomless pit of lawlessness and chaos that Afghanistan, Somalia, Rwanda and other countries have had the misfortune of falling into.

This, then, is a time for reflection and, hopefully, action.

Too often now, we - Sri Lankans, Sinhalese, Tamils, Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, Muslim, UNP, SLFP, UPFA, JVP, Extremist, Peacenik – have been caught up in the quest for the final solution and, in the process, got lost in the maze of political discourse. Our individual political compasses, meanwhile, point in opposite directions.

Turn left and go straight to a Federal Solution. Turn right, pick up your weapons and get ready to enter The Final War. North takes you to Eelam. South leads to Communism.

We clash because we disagree with the directions that our fellow countrymen wish to travel in.

I choose, therefore, to not enter the maze at this juncture. Instead, I find myself posed with the following questions: is it possible that this Final Solution is not all it promises to be? Will it end the war in an honourable manner for all? Will it give us equality for all and remove discrimination? Finally – and this is, I believe, the most important factor– will it teach us the meaning of empathy? My fear is that without empathy, the Final Solution won’t be final nor will it be much of a solution.

Empathy is a funny word. Empathy is when Dinesh stops bullying his little brother Prassana because he now understands that such behaviour could hurt physically and psychologically. Prassana is happy that his big brother finally understands what he, Prassana, had to go through earlier. Any possible manifestations of anger stemming from this hurt is avoided. There is empathy in both sides. The first seeds of rebuilding relations between the two brothers have been sown.

In the great political discussions of the past few decades, ‘harmony’ and ‘peace’ are the words of choice across the spectrum of Sri Lankan society. Yet, few seem to understand that for ‘peace’ and ‘harmony’, we need empathy. Without empathy, it won’t be peace nor will it be harmony – only a situation of ‘no war’ will take its place instead. And that, as we have found out recently, is possibly worse.

How do we, then, go about sowing empathy across Sri Lanka’s ethnic, cultural and religious lines? I believe the answer lies in education. More precisely, I believe that a radical overhaul of our educational system is necessary – in parallel, obviously, to whatever political solution is accepted by the masters and the masses of Sri Lanka.

The Sri Lankan education system, it seems, is not designed with pluralism in mind. This is a country that is home to four major religions – Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam and Christianity - and five ethnicities – Sinhalese, Sri Lankan Tamils, Indian Tamils, Moors and Malays, and Burghers. There is also the language factor, but I digress. Looking at such figures, is it not logical to build an educational system that aims to foster a common identity amongst these disparate segments of the population?

As a resident of Colombo, one hears the names of the elite schools – Nalanda College, Museus College, Hindu College, St Peters College, St Bridgets, Zaheera College – and knows the prestige attached to such schools by the respective alumni, students and their parents. We also know that such schools also cater to a specific population, normally along religious and linguistic lines: Nalanda and Museus to Sinhala Buddhists, Hindu College (and by extension, Ramanathan Hindu Ladies College) to Tamil Hindus, St Peters and St Bridgets to Catholics from both Sinhala and Tamil backgrounds (I am referring to the rule – if I could call it a ‘rule’ – not the exceptions; for the record, I know, and have heard of, Muslims in Ananda, Hindu Ladies College and at all the leading Catholic schools).

Such an educational system that disregards diversity – be it in terms of ethnicity, religion or language – is, in my point of view, past its time. Such a system has at its core collectivist ideals. Fair enough. But can’t this collectivist idealism be along common lines instead of seeking to sub-divide Sri Lankan society on our differences?

International schools are either a bane or a boon to the education system. Regardless of my personal views on their credibility as educational organizations, I view them as positive role models for the entire education system in terms of their student bodies. Here, ethnic and religious lines disappear, at least for eight hours a day. English replaces the student’s mother tongue. In doing so, the student makes the first step in branching outside his “group”. In time to come, a friendship, we hope, forms between students of various ethnicities and religions. They don’t forget their own roots. They merely accept that others are different and they celebrate this distinctiveness.

At this point, dear reader, I wish to share a personal event that has since influenced my own thinking in these matters. My entire schooling was at an international school in Bambalapitya where diversity was, thankfully, the rule and not the exception. In my 12 years there, I can proudly say that at no point did the war and the ethnic tensions seep into school life. We were gloriously immune to such things.

In ninth grade, the class I was in consisted of ten other students: Shanil, Lalindu, Tharaka, Varuna, Shiraz, Azad, Azam, Abid, Shanjei and myself. To set ourselves apart from the rest of the college, we arranged our desks and chairs in a U-shaped form. A term went and passed like it always does with its dose of exams, cricket and girl matters – lots of girl matters.

One day, our warden, Mr Samaranayake, was in the midst of his chemistry lectures when the conversation somehow turned to the war. He then asked each of us to identify our individual religions.

Buddhists: Shanil, Lalindu, Tharaka and Varuna, seated together along the horizontal part of the U stood. Hindus: Shanjei and I, seated on left vertical side of the U, stood. Muslims: Shiraz, Azad, Azam and Abid, seated on the right vertical part of the U stood.

Without realizing, we had chosen to sit next to a person from our ‘group’. Mr Samaranayake’s reaction is still fresh in my mind. With his usual smirk, accentuated by an audible ‘Heh!’’, he simply said, “I don’t want to see this again. It is bad enough that I have to see it outside my school, but I won’t have it here.” We knew what he meant.

To this day, those simple words have been my political and moral compass. When the time comes, they will guide me in my personal quest for the Final Solution. I may not find this Final Solution, but I know that I am on the right path. If I fail, my children will continue.

Here’s hoping that my children and, indeed, our children, dear reader, will have enjoy better fortune – and compasses - than we do.
Theena Kumaragurunathan, 7th July 2006.

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