Who will green this desert?

When Sir Ivor Jennings, who resided here for about 15 years and was the first Vice-Chancellor of the newly-established Peradeniya University described Sri Lanka as a cultural desert, he was perhaps referring to the paucity of “cultural” activity in the country. 

These were the early years of independence. The low level of literacy among the population, around six million in 1947, and the general poverty of the people was no encouragement to cultural activity. In literature, whether in the vernacular or in English, our output was meagre, while in the arts only a handful of brave souls kept the flame burning. 

In the 70 years since, much has changed. The population has nearly quadrupled; education has been broad based, leading to a literacy rate of above 90%. In the school curriculums languages and arts hold high status. It does not end at the school level. Further studies and careers in these disciplines are possible at institutions of higher learning.

There is much encouragement for cultural activities, including gala annual events at which those said to have contributed in the various fields are honoured by the State. Undoubtedly many more books are being written locally now, more music being produced, more plays being staged and more artists displaying their creations. Yet there is a sense of failure of a culture, an absence of value and true merit; the anticipated effloresces has not occurred. While not exactly a cultural desert, we have not created an oasis either.

If our social realities are the result of the limitations of the inherent culture, there is justification for the prevailing gloom. From the Parliament to the public roads, from the universities to the primary schools, from the captains of industry to the street vendors, there is crisis; things are falling apart, the lowest common denominator reigns. In the ranks there is only muddle and confusion while the thinking few are bowed down in despair.

While I write this on my table is a copy of the Sunday Times of 24 January. On the sports pages (page 24) is a picture of our Sports Minister Dayasiri Jayasekera at what is presumably the ceremony at which Thilanga Sumathipala assumed office as the Chairman of the Cricket Board having been endorsed at a keenly-fought contest.

As befits a solemn occasion the office bearers are dressed in a formal manner, making an effort to give the ceremony some value. The Minister on the other hand is in the most casual of gear, in something like an undershirt, collar-less and tight-fitting, very gym-like kind of outfit worn by teenagers at reality shows. It is most likely he was working out and came straight to the ceremony, unwashed, indifferent. It would have been a relief to the audience that the Minister prefers to work out at a gym for his exercise instead of taking a swim at the SSC pool.

The cultural dynamics of the inauguration scene is best captured by the posture of one of the office bearers in the picture. In the ministerial presence his torso has sagged, head bent involuntarily, eyes deferential. Humbleness is not abjectness, while the former could be considered a virtue, the latter is a weakness. 

It is said that sports builds character, not diminish a personality. Our sports officials are mainly volunteers, meaning, that they give their time and resources for no payment to promote a sport they love. There could be a few bad hats among them, but by and large they are doing an honourable job. 

On the other hand, the politicians in this country represent an extremely corrupt culture. Everything they touch is for gain, either in wealth or power. They live off the country; get a large salary and a lot of other benefits when holding ministerial office. It cannot be said that any of the sports ministers we have had was really committed to sports. The day the ministry is taken away from him the guy loses all interest in sports.

Then why do these officials so readily abase themselves in front of the Minister? It is very simple. The Minister not only has access to large amounts of public funds which he could direct towards various sports at his discretion, he also holds the power to interfere, direct or even dissolve sports bodies. He commands not only administrative powers but even quasi-judicial powers over the sports bodies. 

Let us go back to the picture. In it we see the Minister on stage, hugging and kissing the newly-elected President of the Cricket Board. It cannot be said that same sex hugging and kissing in public is a cultural trait in the Indian sub-continent. Even the display of affection towards a member of the opposite sex in public is uncommon. 

This is not the case among all races. In the Arab culture, all their internal blood-letting notwithstanding, public hugging/kissing between men is sanctioned. In those countries it is public even when it comes to punishments like beheadings and stoning of offenders. 

This very public hug by the Minister, in the context of the occasion, is not only culturally unusual but also lacks the commitment/acknowledgement inherent in a (western) handshake or the grace and respect integral in an oriental greeting. There are other issues that arise. Considering the “supervisory” role that the Minister plays in respect of sports, the stakeholders are justified in wondering of the justness of such a process when the Minister and the newly-elected President of the Cricket Board are intimate, in an affectionate relationship perhaps?

In such a scenario can the Minister honestly interfere in cricket? Sometimes unusually close friendships (hugging, kissing, etc.) end in extreme rancour. So either way, the Minister will have a problem in deciding for or against a friend with whom he is presently quite intimate. 

Mario Llosa, the Peruvian Nobel Laureate, has written extensively about the crisis of culture in the age of the internet. He warns against equating culture with only the symbols of art and literature. Culture on the other hand, covers the entire gamut of the human experience, its inner richness, the search for truths and integrity. In our society the dynamics between the ruler and the ruled, the leader and the follower, the patron and the client, would not belong to what Llosa considers desirable, what he terms the “high” culture.

Llosa attempts to define culture this way: “An autonomous reality, made up of ideas, aesthetics and ethical values, and works of art and literature that interact with the rest of social existence. These ought to be the well springs of social, economic, political and even religious phenomenon rather than their mere reflection.”

This is the crux of the matter. As pointed out by Llosa it is our “culture”, values and ideas, which ought to provide the wellsprings of social and political phenomenon. It is we who should tell the Minister how he should present himself at an important function for the game of cricket. Instead we take the cue from the Minister and reflecting his culture, may next time turn up at such functions in cotton vests ourselves. Having equated culture with mere dances and songs for years, we now have nothing to give, the wellsprings are dry.

Ivor Jennings may have well been right; all around us is an arid land, populated by diminished souls.

Who will green this desert?