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Hitler and the LTTE: On Polarisation and

Fascism

Featured image by Vikalpa

JUDE FERNANDO-07/13/2018

If they call you a Hitler, then be a Hitler and build this country.—Ven.
Vendaruwe Upali Thero (Anunayaka of the Asgiriya Chapter), advising Lt.
Col. Gotabhaya Rajapaksa, the former Secretary of Defense.

Now we remember how we lived before May 18, 2009. In the present conditions
our main intention is to bring back the LTTE if we want to live, if we want to
walk freely, if we need our children to attend schools and return back.—
Vijayakala Maheswaran, M.P, United National Party.

The timing of these two ill-thought-out and irresponsible statements, and the
stark difference between the public and political responses to them, are
evidence of the harsh and uncomfortable realities of this country. The
statements are an indictment of the current yahapalanaya (“good
governance”) regime for failing to fulfill its promises. Desperation and anxiety
over these failures run deep in a society so morally bankrupt, and
intellectually and politically paralysed, that it sees no other option but to turn
to LTTE or Nazi-type regimes to help solve the country’s social, economic,
ecological and political problems—regardless of the atrocious history of such
institutions. These are symptoms of a morally degenerating society, deprived
of convincing alternative narratives and roadmaps with which to guide its
future.

All ethnic communities, among other issues, are deeply concerned with the
deterioration of the law and order situation in the country. Tamil and Sinhala
communities’ frustration with the prevailing situation in the country is the
context in which Vijayakala and the Ven. Anunayka made their provocative
statements. But the two do not have equal privilege to express their respective
concerns, even after having been given the theoretical benefit of doubt of the
underlying motives for their respective statements, without being ridiculed
and threatened with legal action.

The double standards evident in the legal, popular, and political responses to
Ven. Anunayaka and Vijayakala are indicative of a country sharply polarised
along ethnic lines, as well as of the continuing influence of racist ethno-
nationalism on the politics of the country. Such polarisation creates
communities that are unable to empathise with their counterparts, even if
they are facing similar struggles. After 30 years of war, million-dollar
investments in reconciliation and peace-building have done nothing to move
the country away from reactionary, racist nationalism and towards a more
inclusive nationalism to guide nation-building. Politicians who publicly
condemn racism lack the will and are disempowered to implement non-racist
policies.

The post-war resurgence of racist nationalism and equally racist identity


politics threatens to deprive all ethnic groups of equal citizenship, worth and
dignity and undermines the solidarity among them against inequalities and
dispossession that they all experience. Dominant and subordinate ethnic
groups alike are only left with narrow and counter-productive identity politics
with which to assuage their respective grievances. Ethno-nationalist
interpretations of Vijayakala’s apparent call for a resurgence of the LTTE
might cause the Sinhalese to endorse Ven. Anunayaka’s counsel to Gotabhaya
Rajapaksa, and the Tamils who fear a further entrenchment of forces against
them to sympathise with Vijayakala. The statements reinforce each other, and
they will take center stage in the political discourse as the country approaches
its next election.

The root cause of the country’s vulnerability to fascism is the legitimacy crisis
of neoliberalism masquerading as a legitimacy crisis of State. Neoliberalism,
which is the current phase of capitalism, continues to rely on the state
authority to ensure its survival, and the legitimisation of the State’s authority
and the suppression of dissent against it are closely tied to culture rather than
economic means. Culture, drawing on religion, language, race, and ethnicity
and so on, gives meaning to the identity, behavioral relationships and
patterns, and structural divisions and power inequalities of the society.

The fact that the success of the neoliberal economy is predicated on social and
economic inequalities and injustices and environmental degradation, culture,
without being militarised, progressively loses its ability to be a source of
legitimacy of the neoliberal state. This is because culture is the only means
available to the state to legitimise its power in the face of mounting economic
inequalities and ecological crises. In a multicultural nation state such as Sri
Lanka, where one culture dominates the others in the constitution of the
state’s identity and its social and economic policies, the militarisation of
culture acts as an important means of legitimising the state, the ruling
ideology and hegemony, and as a result instigates its opposition by those
marginalised cultures.

Culture is far more important than the economy for people to make sense of
their identity, social and ecological relationships and dignity. Thus,
militarism, as embodied in LTTE- and Hitler-type regimes, is a cultural
response to the legitimacy crisis of the neoliberal state that results from its
inability to grant social and economic equality to all its subjects.
Commodification, nationalisation and militarisation of culture, deprives the
society of vibrant, critical and democratic public spheres to deliberate action
against culture’s role in social, economic and ecological injustice.

While Fascist regimes around the world have taken different forms and
national variants, they draw their identity and legitimacy from the cultural
context in which they operate. Fascism is broadly defined as “a political
ideology that seeks to organise the government and economy under one
centralized authority, with strict social controls and suppression of all
opposition. Fascist regimes draw on aggressively militarised and often racist
nationalism to legitimise the regimentation of the economic and social policies
and suppression of dissent against them. Fascism glorifies the nation or the
race as an organic community that transcendsall other forms of loyalties and
often, often but not always, it embodies racial superiority doctrines, ethnic
persecution, and geopolitical expansion.

As a populist ideology, fascism energises and activates the political power of


the ‘chosen’ superior race, its history, religion and claims to territory, against
its ‘perceived’ enemies. Fascism, particularly in hyperreligious society like Sri
Lanka, could also take a ‘spiritual’ form when it draws on religion to gain
popular legitimacy as a crusade against the “moral decay” of the society.
Despite having a populist outlook, fascist regimes are often exclusive, racist,
elitist, tribalistic and nepotistic, since their power revolves around selected
groups within the ‘chosen’ race and a supreme leader of that group. Fascism,
in countries in the Global South are vulnerable to being sites for conflict
between external forces that have stakes in the country’s economy and
politics. Finally, Fascists are notorious for diabolical plots to mask their
corruption, nepotism, impunity and their servitude to undesirable external
powers.

The vilification of Vijayakala and the branding of Gotabhaya Rajapaksa as a


Hitler figure are desperate acts of political opportunism that only serve to
create fear. Society’s uncritical acceptance of such tactics makes it complicit
with the dangers of LTTE- and Hitler-type regimes. If we are truly concerned
about the country sliding towards fascist rule under such authoritarian
programmes, we need to deconstruct and challenge the economic, cultural and
political underpinnings of the current excitement over the two statements.
Against this backdrop, we can now turn to a more detailed discussion on how
we have become a society fearful, and/or celebrate regimes that are likely to
lead the country towards a more fascist future.

The current government came to power by promising to restore law and


order. After failing to do so, it is now hoping to remain in power by
frightening the public about criminals whom it promises to catch when it
forms the next government. Hardly anyone believes that the regime will catch
politically powerful and popular members of the den of thieves, despite
Minister Rajitha Senarathne’s proclamation that ‘2018 is a year of catching
criminals’. Not only is the government complicit in thefts carried out by its
own members, but there is also a widespread belief that the allegations of theft
are important sources of political bargaining, which helps preserve a weak
and unpopular government. As a result, the public is not swayed by the
government’s claims that it is not interfering in legal proceedings against
corruption, (as the previous government did) or the government’s plea for the
public to be patient and should not expect an instant restoration of the judicial
system.
Corruption has been normalised, and the legal system is struggling to
overcome constraints so that it can carry out its duties. Criminals that the
government promised to catch are fast becoming national heroes who could
potentially form the next government. The President and the Prime Minister
seem to blame each other for their failure to bring these criminals to justice.
Yet, for most voters, corruption is simply not a matter of high priority when
faced with other impending material problems.

Even the JVP is not a viable option for people to end corruption. Most people
do not vote for the JVP, even if they welcome its persistence in exposing
corruption. People are averse to progressive ideals of JVP, because those
ideals are not being backed up by a credible, practical strategy of
implementation of policies that would be conducive to the realisation of those
ideals, and to make matters even worse their track record of two failed
insurgencies and ethnonationalist past (during the 1971 and 1989
uprisings)are still haunting them. Under these circumstances, people would
even vote for extremely corrupt persons, especially when allegations of
corruption against them remain unproven, so long as their campaign policies
promise to make real change on the ground.

The frustrations of the Tamil minority with the government run as high as the
frustrations of the majority Sinhalese. The progress the government has made
in relation to certain minority issues—progress that has been acknowledged
by Vijayakala herself—is not reason enough for minorities to be complacent
about the status quo. The much-anticipated constitutional changes allowing
for devolution of power are unlikely in the near future if supposed fears of
resurgence of the LTTE and of anti-minority sentiments occupy a central
place in the coming election campaigns.

Legal experts working on constitutional reforms for devolution are ignorant


about how their own thinking and efforts are conditioned by the intersection
of law, economics and politics of the country. Some fear that the time legal
experts take to get through legal reforms as giving ample time and space for
the entrenchment of those forces that are opposed to devolution as well as
transitional justice. For those Tamils critical of their political leaders, these
legal reforms cannot address the issues they face on a daily basis. For
example, formal political devolution would be meaningless if neoliberal
development deprives and disposes people of land, resources, and
archeological heritage. Many doubt that the government is able to prevent the
spread of incidents of rape, murder, alcoholism, gang activity, drug abuse,
and other criminal activity, which have spread not only in the north and east
since the end of the war but also throughout the country. The perception that
these incidents, when get out of control, could lead to further militarisation of
their society tends to alienate the Tamil community from their traditional
political parties, now divided and competing for popular legitimacy. For
minorities, meaningful reconciliation and transitional justice remain an
elusive dream at a time when the political parties are failing to move beyond
narrow and often racist nationalist identity politics in responding to minority
concerns. The Sinhalese, just like the Tamils, not always for same reasons, are
cynical of towards various commissions and committees, and programs
initiated by the current government to promote good governance, peace and
reconciliation.

Under these circumstances, demands for fascist regimes by Vijayakala and


the Anunayaka should not be construed as calls for another separatist war or
for policies similar to those of the Nazis. Such demands are common to
Sinhala and Tamil communities who believe that national problems can be
solved only by regimes that can instill the fear of punishment in the
wrongdoers. Public desperation is an inevitable product of nation building in
Sri Lanka under the mutually reinforcing workings of neoliberal development
projects and ethno-religious nationalist projects. The global success of these
two projects is predicated on inequality, injustice, oppression, and
domination, and, as certain trends in international politics show, the survival
of such projects can open the door to fascism.

If our consciousness is formed in the image of these two projects, our ability to
think critically and independently is taken away, and our humanity is robbed
from us. Only by unraveling the economic, political and cultural
underpinnings of these projects can we regain our intellectual freedom and
our humanity, and make proper sense of Vijayakala’s and Ven. Anunayaka’s
statements and of the public response to them.

Every government since 1977 has continued to pursue neoliberal economic


policies centered on the notion that economic wellbeing and democratic
freedoms and rights, and ecological sustainability can be derived from the
capitalist market place. Therein the primary responsibility of the government
is to discipline the society to function according to the dictates of the market.
In crude terms, the underlying logic of such policies is to sell anything and
everything to the highest bidder as long as that bidder brings investment to
the country. These transactions are done regardless of the bidder’s
transparency, accountability and the social and environmental consequences
of their investments. The priority here is not the wellbeing of the people, but
economic growth, which in essence means opportunities for capitalist profit,
by adjusting the national economy to the dictates of the world market.

Inter-ethnic and intra-ethnic inequalities are increasing, and social safety


networks are either disappearing or are being subject to the logic of the
market. The country is being dispossessed of its resources, and such
dispossession is disproportionately borne by the most vulnerable social
groups. Future generations will inherit an irredeemable debt trap, and the
country is rapidly losing its economic and political sovereignty. The neoliberal
institutions and their economists, however, have indoctrinated society with the
belief that “good governance,” structured exclusively within the confines of
neoliberal rationality, is the only option available for improving the quality of
our lives and the natural environment.

Economic hegemony offers only two options to any government. The first is to
be aggressive in implementing neoliberal policies, using ideological consensus
and coercion to suppress and distract any form of protest against the
inequalities and injustices that inevitably arise from such policies.
Governments find it easy to adhere to such doctrines when the society itself
has internalised the promise of prosperity and when there is no critical
thinking or opposition to that myth encouraged by the education system, by
the religious establishment, or by civil society. Such manufactured gullibility
is reinforced when people are made so naïve as to believe that changes in the
political leadership will result in a new determination to combat injustice and
inequalities of neoliberal economic policies.

In contrast to the popular perception of the present government as one


without clear purpose, direction and firm leadership, there is a growing
consensus among the public that those who ended the war against the LTTE
are capable of leading the country towards a better future because they
possess the coherent narrative and will it takes to guide both the economy and
the nation. Such consensus, certainly, are not built on facts, but on the failures
of the current government on issues that matters most for the general public.
The attempts by some, even with good intentions, to use Ven.Anunayaka’s
statement to instill fear of Gotabhaya Rajapaksa becoming the next President
has backfired and are making Gotabhaya even more popular among his
supporters.

The second option offered by neoliberal hegemony is that governments frame


their policies in ethno-nationalist terms, thereby distracting public attention
from economic policies. Such framing is not a difficult task in countries in
which the educational, religious, and political establishments have conditioned
the vast majority of people to interpret the benefits of economic policies in
ethno-nationalist terms. Ethno-nationalist responses to Vijayakala’s statement
provide an excuse for a type of political leadership that would invest in a
security apparatus that could eventually be used to suppress all forms of
political dissent, in particular, dissent against neoliberal policies. Ethno-
nationalism disguises the economic logic behind militarization, thereby
providing security and stability for transnational capital.

Minority political parties, being complicit with neoliberalism, dare not


challenge such politics or mobilise their constituencies against them. None of
the Tamil parties have articulated a political vision that would address the
issues resulting from neoliberalism and ethno-nationalism, because they have
neither the ideological inclination nor the social capital to do so. The
dominance of identity politics, at the expense of economic analysis, in Tamil
political discourse is reinforced by a disappointment about the progress that
has been made in transitional justice after the war and by an entrenchment of
anti-minority sentiments evident in the recent anti-Muslim riots. As a result,
when neoliberal policies dispossess minorities of their land and resources,
thereby increasing their political vulnerability, minorities are left with having
to solely articulate their grievances and organize their dissent along the lines
of their ethnic identity.

Vijayakala’s and Ven. Anunayaka’s statements appeal to those who are


ideologically conditioned to think that having political control over their land
and resources, even under the LTTE or a fascist regime, is the answer to the
economic as well as political problems of their respective communities.
Neoliberalism thrives on the radicalising of inequality and dispossession.
People become oblivious to inequalities within their own communities and
project their anger and dissent towards the economy onto vulnerable
communities, which in turn undermines inter-ethnic solidarity against the
common denominator of inequality and dispossession.

The public and political responses to the two statements are indicative of
continuing polarisation along ethno-religious lines and also of a lack of will
among mainstream political parties to move beyond narrow identity politics
that legitimise their political agendas. In these responses Vijyakala’s
statement received a literal interpretation, whereas Ven. Anunayaka’s
statement received a metaphorical interpretation.

At the time she made the controversial statement, Vijayakala, a Tamil female
State Minister of the Government of Sri Lanka, had worked closely with the
government on various projects on post-war reconciliation and peace-
building. Her husband was assassinated by the LTTE and she had witnessed
decades of failure of all governments to fulfill their promises to minority
Tamils. Her controversial statement was obviously an ill-thought out
statement made in a context of increasing reports on sexual violence in the
North and East. Why did she make the statement now?

Vijayakala’s statement was a part of a politically charged speech she made in


response to a lack of justice for the rape and murder of a child, her friend’s
daughter. Is it possible that Vijayakala, being an acolyte of the UNP, was
trying to make political capital by calling for a resurgence of the LTTE?
Would Vijayakala’s critics treat her differently had she not been a member of
the UNP but an ally of Karuna or Pilliyan (former members of the LTTE
responsible for mass murder and after the war held ministerial portfolios
under the previous government)? The critics of Vijayakala ignored this
complicated context in which the statement was made and have been
unwilling to give the benefit of the doubt to Vijayakala’s claim that she did
not intend to appeal for a resurgence of the LTTE.

The parliament and the media did not get animated about Ven. Anunayaka’s
statement, in the same way they did about Vijayakala’s. Not many raised
doubts about his clarification of his statement, that “he did not advocate a
Hitler-like military rule”, rather he meant “the need for someone who can
make strong decisions.” It was accepted by many without raising any doubts
about it or raising questions about the consequences of such a statement on
inter-ethnic relations. Obviously, Vijayakala cannot in good conscience defend
the LTTE, with its record of forcibly recruiting women and children to the
war, as a protector of women and children, but she could certainly say that
there was no rape and sexual abuse during its regime. If we equally treat both
Vijayakala’s and the Ven. Anunayaka’s statements, then we should give the
benefit of the doubt to Vijayakala that she did not endorse the violent past of
the LTTE; rather she, as the Ven. Anunayaka did, meant the need for a
regime that would make firm decisions to prevent further sexual assaults.

Those in Parliament who vilified Vijayakala using inappropriate language


and who demanded immediate legal action against her have been silent about
the allegations made against those Sinhala politicians who provided finances
to the LTTE and who made former LTTE cadres accused of murder into
government ministers. My point is not that one wrong justifies another but
that politicians of the majority community enjoy a degree of privilege not
extended to those representing vulnerable minorities.

The UNP did the right thing in appointing a committee of inquiry and letting
the legal process handle Vijayakala’s statement, rather than immediately
arresting her. However, the UNP is not going to challenge the racism that
underlies the hypocrisies of Vijayakala’s critics. The reaction of some UNP
members to Vijayakala’s statement implies that its intention was to prove to
the public that it was far more proactive in condemning Vijayakala than were
the opposition politicians.

People are so busy looking after their own welfare that they lack the time,
resources, and moral inclination to become responsible citizens. Instead, they
expect politicians to work for the common good. Even some religious leaders
see the LTTE and fascist movements as role models for our political leaders
because those religious leaders themselves draw their popularity, legitimacy,
and economic substance from ethno-religious nationalism and the
neoliberalism that underpins it.
As long as the government is committed to neoliberal policies and maintains
ethno-nationalism as the ideological basis for nation-building, it will fail to
restore and maintain law and order, to end corruption, to create a viable path
toward transitional justice for communities affected by war and to address
increasing economic inequality, the dispossession of the country’s land and
resources, and to prevent the subjugation of the country to the demands of
neoliberal institutions. Those who vilify Vijayakala and brand Gotabhaya as
Hitler to create fear in the society themselves are complicit with the same
economic and nation-building projects.

It is not enough to simply be angry at the status quo. What we need is to


accept the realities of our predicament with equanimity and to do our best to
confront those realities. Fascist regimes draw legitimacy from sources made
available to them by the society. Our responsibility is to deprive regimes of
these forces. First, we need to accept the harsh realities of neoliberal
development project and ethnonationalist nation-building projects. Secondly,
we need to unite across ethnic divides to confront the challenges and
consequences of such projects without allowing politicians on either side to
obscure these consequences in a shroud of narrow and opportunistic identity
politics. Third, we should be willing to embrace more egalitarian and just
ways of organising our economy, politics, and the way we relate to nature.
These are our moral responsibilities if we believe that all humans are “bearers
of inalienable human dignity that cannot be lost or forfeited.” Philosopher
Martha Nussabaum, building on Kantian and Stoic philosophy argues that
notion of dignity always refers to human “capacity for practical and moral
reasoning.” The challenge we face today is, not the LTTE or Hitler, but our
complicity with the fascist tendencies embodied in the neoliberal economy and
racist nationalism stifling our capacity to do so.

Editor’s Note: “Sri Lanka: Where free market wouldn’t sell reform and
reconciliation” and “Racism in Education, Religion and Neoliberalism:
Empowering the anti-minority extremists?“
Posted by Thavam

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