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CASTING
ETHNICITY: REPRESENTATION OF ETHNIC IDENTITIES IN CONTEMPORARY SRI LANKA
TELEDRAMA
Since the introduction of the television serial Dimuthu Muthu in the early
1980s in Sri Lanka, the ‘teledrama’, as it is popularly known
today, is one of the most popular cultural genres and is regarded as the
principal form of family entertainment. The word ‘teledrama’
(telenatya in Sinhala) was invented in the early 1980s. D. B. Nihal Singhe,
who directed Dimuthu Muthu, used it to describe the dramas shown on TV.
Dhamma Jagoda later suggested the word ‘teledrama’, at the
request of the Chairman of the Sri Lankan Rupavahini Corporation (the
State television corporation) at the time. Teledramas are generally serialized
for prolonged periods — ranging from 12 episodes to over 100 episodes;
on average, an episode is aired once a week during prime time hours (8–10
p.m.). The
teledramas of the 1980s focused almost entirely on ‘family themes’.
Somaweera Senanayake, the most prolific and popular scriptwriter stated
that when he started writing teledramas in 1983 his target audience was
the nuclear family, particularly those of the semi-urban middle class.
The plots centered on finding an appropriate marriage partner, economic
hardship, family and land disputes etc. While these themes continue to
dominate the contemporary scene, the profusion of teledramas has necessitated
the exploration of other issues of sociopolitical significance, such as
the ongoing ethnic conflict. The scenario changed in the early 1990s with
the screening of Sura Asura, the first teledrama to grapple with the theme
of the ethnic conflict. Close
analysis of the narrative formulae of these plots reveals that the configurations
of ethnicity are problematically constructed in the majority of these
teledramas. This paper will interrogate the dominant representation of
ethnic minorities by analyzing a selection of popular teledramas. My focus
falls mainly on Tamil and Burghers. I will map the ways in which they
are represented in the teledramas, highlighting the parallels that emerge
in the representation of each group. The dominant features will be analyzed
within the framework of the political and popular discourses of ethnicity.
I will also argue that, with the deeper entrenchment of an ethnic conflict
and, as the concept of a unitary nation (as envisaged by the majority)
becomes more untenable, the affirmation of monolithic ethnic identities
is intensified. The
teledramas selected include one of the earliest and most popular ones
Yashorawaya, where the figure of Maureen, a Burgher woman, becomes emblematic
of the politics of representation of the minority woman. A more recent
teledrama, Watsanu, also reinforces some of the dominant stereotypes attached
to the Burghers and thus I have analyzed this in relation to Yashorawaya.
Negative stereotypes are also assigned to the other minorities, especially
Tamils. Thus, I have selected three teledramas that depict Tamil characters
to discuss the ways in which Tamilness is constructed. Sura Asura, the
first teledrama, which depicted a Tamil character as the protagonist,
and Nisaladiya Sasalaviya and Vishwa Gamana, recent teledramas that depict
mixed relationships (between Sinhala and Tamil), have also been examined.
At this point I would like to highlight the absence of Muslim characters
in the teledramas. This phenomenon is not accidental. Somaweera Senanayake
cited the example of State intervention by a Muslim Deputy Minister on
the grounds that a Muslim character in the teledrama was portrayed in
a negative manner. Thereafter, to avoid controversy and censorship, Muslim
characters are not depicted at all. During
the course of this study I conducted in-depth interviews with directors,
producers and actors. In addition, audience perceptions and reactions
were also documented. These will be used to substantiate the issues discussed
in this paper. The viewers’ reception of the teledramas has a twofold
purpose. First, it enables us to make assessments of the impact of this
kind of mass media on the process of construction and dissemination of
popular ideology and local political, cultural and social dynamics. Secondly,
the impacts of sociopolitical, economic processes and cultural movements
on the content and intent of nationally produced teledramas are reflected
in the audience reception. In the narrative
frameworks of the teledramas, while the ethnic minorities are situated
in a visible and consequential space, a close analysis of the positioning
of these figures suggests that they fall within the parameters of the
dominant discourse. Ultimately, these representations are transformed
to propagate and preserve the ethnic superiority of the majority, since
within the pervasive arena of ethnic conflict, identity politics hinges
on questions of ethnicity, wherein social groups are defined by, and contingent
upon, notions of racial purity. Whether it is ‘pure’ Sinhalese, Tamil,
Burgher or Muslim, these categories are ‘unequivocally held to be
real, abiding and permanent’ (Ismail 1995: 59). Conversely, the Tamil
character has recently gained visibility in the Sinhala teledrama. Although
earlier teledramas such as Yashorawaya did touch upon mixed relationships
(for instance, the daughter Ranjini gets married to a divorced Tamil man),
this was often marginally positioned and functioned solely for the purposes
of advancing the plot. Despite the escalation of the ethnic conflict since
1983, this subject was not depicted at all in teledrama until Sura Asura
(written by Sumithra Rahubadda and directed by Bermin Lylie Fernando)
was screened on the state television channel Rupavahini in 1992/93. Since
then, a vast number of teledramas have been produced and are usually screened
for the first time on Rupavahini. Audiences are reluctant to engage with
the issue of ethnic politics in the popular media. The majority of viewers
felt that television functions purely for entertainment and therefore
should not portray ‘depressing’ themes like the war. Damitha
Abeyrathne, the principal actress in the teledrama Nisaladiya Sasalaviya
(which deals with a mixed relationship) said that ‘people who are
already beaten by so many of life’s problems do not like to see
the same problems when they sit to watch TV’. In 1998, a Brigadier
of the Sri Lankan army commented that the solution to the ethnic conflict
in Sri Lanka lay in Sinhala soldiers marrying Tamil girls. This comment
cannot be read as either facetious or idealistic. Rather, it falls within
a discourse that has recently been promoted in public discourses and gained
recognition on a variety of fronts. In 1998, the popular media through
the state-owned Rupavahini Corporation has telecast, as well as produced,
several Sinhala teledramas, where the focal point has been the issue of
mixed relationships/marriages in the arena of conflict. The positive codification
of these relationships sharply contrasts with previous representations
of the traditional antipathy associated with ethno-racial intermixing,
seen for instance, in Sura Asura. In recent years, the mixed relationship
— usually between a Sinhala man and Tamil woman — is portrayed
very positively and frequently in teledramas. Since the 1983 riots, the
ethnic conflict has prefigured. In this section, I explore this configuration
by focusing on three teledramas, Sura Asura, Vishwa Gamana and Nisaladiya
Sasalaviya. The latter deviates from the norm in charting the vicissitudes
of a relationship between a man of mixed parentage (father Tamil and mother
is Sinhala) and a Sinhala girl. The latter two teledramas are very recent
and popular and attempt a shift in attitude towards the issue of intermarriage.
In these teledramas, the following concerns will be germane to my discussion:
the way in which the mixed relationship is constructed vis-a`-vis gender
and ethnic politics; the anxieties of the person of mixed ancestry and
his/her place in the community (as depicted in Nisaladiya Sasalaviya);
the ‘emancipatory’ potential in becoming a member of a revolutionary
organization (as represented in the female protagonist in Vishwa Gamana);
and audience reactions to these issues. Sura Asura marks
a watershed in teledrama history. It maps the politics of conflict and
its impingement upon the marriage of Suranimala, a Sinhala man and a Tamil
woman, Lakshmi. They ignore parental opposition and get married, and during
the riots they are forced to flee from their home. Their two children
are sent to Suranimala’s parents’ house. This arrangement
causes Lakshmi severe anguish, and also puts a strain on their relationship.
At the end, Lakshmi goes to Jaffna with the children, and Suranimala follows
her and attempts to bring her back. Nisaladiya Sasalaviya
charts the relationship between Suresh, the child of a Sinhala mother
and deceased Tamil father, and a young Sinhalese woman, Nirmala. Nirmala,
who is from an affluent and prominent family, comes to stay with her brother,
Ranjan, while awaiting her Advanced Level results. Her two friends in
the small town go to learn English from Suresh’s mother, the schoolteacher.
They persuade Nirmala to join their English class. A relationship develops
between Suresh and Nirmala. As their relationship progresses, it is framed
against Ranjan’s rising status as a politician who builds his political
aspirations on the grounds of ‘protecting his race, religion and
country’. Although Ranjan’s wife supports Nirmala, Ranjan
gets to know about the affair and his violent opposition forces them to
elope. After they get married, they find out that Suresh’s mother
is extremely ill, and come back home to see her. Ranjan learns of this
and comes looking for them with a gun. He states that his sister is a
disgrace to his position and family, and vows to either shoot the two
lovers or himself. He and Nirmala confront each other and she challenges
his racism in the presence of the town’s Buddhist priest. They are
then reconciled and Ranjan accepts Suresh. The plot of Vishwa
Gamana revolves around the relationship of a Buddhist CID officer, Banuka
and a Tamil woman, Ishwari, who initially belongs to a Terrorist organization,
but later abandons her position when she falls in love with him. The CID
pressure Banuka to hand over Ishwari to them but he resists. They later
flee together to Banuka’s ancestral home in the village and are
pursued by the ‘organization’ as well as the CID. While they
are sitting along the riverbank the two leaders of the organization find
them, with the CID also on their trail. When Banuka tries to shoot them,
one of the men kills him. The CID and Police officers arrive simultaneously
and shoot the two men. Ishwari is taken into custody, and finally she
is alone. In all three teledramas, from the outset, vehement parental/family
and societal opposition hamper the mixed relationships. There is strong
revulsion to the prospect of the protagonists’ intention to marry
outside their ethnic group and religion. The arguments against the relationships
are attendant upon notions of ethno-racial, cultural and religious exclusivity.
The sense of betrayal of community and its identity emerges from transgressing
the ethnic boundaries. For instance, in Sura Asura, Lakshmi’s father
demands of her: ‘Have you forgotten your race?’ Her mother
follows this up with ‘We can’t watch you destroy your life’.
She also invokes memories of the racial riots of 1958, which forced them
to flee from Colombo to Jaffna. The voice of the younger generation, embodied
in Lakshmi’s friend, reiterates this ideology when she recalls the
experiences of trauma of the 1977 racial riots. Underpinning the parental
antipathy is the anxiety of the reverberations of a mixed marriage on
the rest of the family. For instance, the parents feel that it will mar
the marriage prospects of Lakshmi’s younger sisters. These sentiments
are echoed in Nisaladiya Sasalaviya. On discovering their relationship,
Nirmala’s sister-in-law tells her: ‘If you are friendly with
Suresh, it is very dangerous. Your brother is trying to get into politics
to protect the Sinhala race, and he will never allow his sister to marry
a Tamil boy. It is seen as bringing disgrace to the family’. This
is demonstrated in Ranjan’s reaction to the relationship. He marshals
all the forces in his gambit to hound the couple and is determined to
use any means to prevent his sister from ‘corrupting’ her
race by marrying a Tamil. His brutal treatment of Suresh’s family
and friends (he physically abuses Suresh’s mother) is testimony
of his violent temperament. Even though both his sister and his wife try
to plead with him to be rational, they are unable to forestall the use
of violence. In the absence of parents, he takes on the role of guardian,
and expects total obedience from his younger sister, Similarly,
the Sinhala mother in Vishwa Gamana is outraged when she learns of her
son’s relationship with a Tamil woman. Her attempts to find him
a ‘suitable’ bride from the appropriate religion, family and
class are frustrated. She too harbors notions of ethnic purity. She demands
from her brother, who is not antagonistic towards Ishwari, ‘Who
in our family has ever been involved with a Tamil? For generations we
have had no Tamils.’ Her comment to Banuka ‘No one in our
generation has got mixed with Tamil blood’ encodes an ironic twist
because when she says this is she not aware that it is Ishwari who donated
blood to the older woman when she was dying. When her brother informs
her of this development, she is aghast but even then is unable to accept
Ishwari and ignores Ishwari when she visits the family. All the arguments
deployed by these figures impinge on cultural and ethnic purity, and a
concomitant fear of mixing and borrowing. Even when the mixing of blood
is transacted on a literal level, as in Vishwa Gamana, this ‘hybridity’
is suppressed. Ethnic chauvinism forges its identity markers visa`-vis
similarly narrow parameters. It is overtly cast throughout the narratives.
For instance, Ranjan in Nisaladiya Sasalaviya is cast as obsessed with
the Sinhala race. He feels that the consequence of the ethnic conflict
is the ‘disappearance’ of the Sinhalese. He reviles Sushila,
Suresh’s mother, because she exemplifies what he feels is happening
to ‘his people’ when he tells her ‘Our sense of race
is disappearing every day. I must do something about it’. When he
confronts her, he vents his racial hatred in the comment: ‘Just
because you have forgotten your race, and act like someone without a race
or nationality, don’t think that I will allow my sister to be abandoned
in a similar way.’ In
fairness to the scriptwriter, unlike in Sura Asura, the other characters
persistently challenge these sentiments. Ranjan is positioned as an exception.
Whether it is the Buddhist priest or Ranjan’s wife, or Nirmala,
they argue against his world view The scriptwriter uses the role of the
Buddhist priest very effectively here, enlisting his elevated and respected
position in the community to become a mouthpiece for propagating racial
tolerance. The other characters are willing to accept his stance and thus
this marks a radical moment in the teledrama. Viewers accepted his role.
Responses suggest that it was timely to have the priest located in the
role of a mediator who speaks for the eradication of racial prejudice.
This representation of the Buddhist priest also subverts the generally
nationalist sentiments that are expressed by the clergy as a collective
body. Unfortunately,
this attitude towards race, whether expressed by a priest or lay-person,
is exceptional. In most of the other teledramas, as we have found in Sura
Asura and Vishwa Gamana, racist ideologies go unchallenged. None of the
characters forcefully argue against endemic racism. Even when a character
does attempt to present an affirmative views of minorities (for instance,
the character of the uncle in Vishwa Gamana) their views appear as contrived
or romantic, and as a result the audiences dismiss it as ‘unrealistic’
and are therefore reluctant to engage with the empowering potential of
such representations in the media. In Sura Asura, the most pronounced
moments of racism are displayed in Suranimala’s attitudes towards
Tamils in general and his father’s opposition to his marriage to
Lakshmi. Underlying racial stereotypes are made visible in the seemingly
facetious comments Suranimala makes about the Tamils to his Tamil colleague,
Sathya. He says: ‘Two Tamils make an association’, and constantly
remarks on their perceived ‘stinginess’. These prejudices
also have an insidious effect on his marriage. Suranimala is suspicious
of Lakshmi’s friendship with another Tamil doctor, Ramesh. Suranimala
is obsessed by the thought that their Tamilness becomes a point of attraction,
which excludes him from what he perceives as a shared background and experiences.
His jealousy, and subsequent maltreatment of Lakshmi, is thus vindicated
by such essentialist statements as, ‘two people of different races
cannot live together’. He ignores her and suppresses her endeavors
at voicing her mental anguish about being separated from her children.
While he makes racist comments about the ethnic conflict, her opinion
is negated on the grounds that ‘you have no right to talk about
the Sinhalese’. Women
endure the effects of intermarriage and ethnic stereotyping. Since symbols
of identity are integral to identity formation, women’s dress, manner
and code of behavior are utilized to establish ethnic boundaries. Dress,
hairstyle and accessories mark the Sinhala woman from her Tamil counterpart,
who is located in the Indian sari, a nose ring and a pottu (vermilion
mark) on her forehead. The Kandyan sari (as opposed to the more popular
Indian sari) is deemed as the appropriate garment for a Sinhala woman.
In Sura Asura Suranimala’s father (representing the voice of patriarchy)
invokes ethno-sexist assumptions in his objection to his son’s marriage.
He states that ‘A Tamil woman hangs around your neck’, a sign
of her ‘cunning’. His comment ‘Even a street woman,
if she is Sinhalese, is acceptable to us, rather than a Tamil’ exhibits
the intensity of hatred, and he ends the conversation by demanding that
the son treat his parents as dead. In using the term ‘street woman’,
that is, a prostitute, the underlying implication is that the notion of
‘Sinhala’ has a superior value attached to it. Hence, such
transactions in identity interweave ethnic stereotyping with sexism. Patriarchal
overtones resonate throughout the series, and Suranimala is frequently
guilty of wielding his dominance over his wife. For example, when she
voices her desire to go to Jaffna with her children, his reaction is ‘In
this house I take the decisions’ — an assertion of the intrinsic
power relations within the familial domain. Often
in a mixed marriage, the process of ‘assimilation’ entails
one partner in the couple giving up some dimensions of his/her identity.
While it may be expected of the member of the minority status to do so,
often gender politics supplant ethnic politics and it is the wife who
relinquishes her claim to asserting her ethnic identity. Given that ethnicity
is foisted most forcefully on women, when a woman gets married, the marital
transaction anticipates that the premarital identity is supplanted by
her husband’s identity. Audience reactions, particularly to the
character of Lakshmi in Sura Asura, suggest that the notion of eliding
one’s ethnic identity through marriage and being subservient to
the husband is the ideal formation to be promoted. Although, in Sura Asura,
Lakshmi continues to wear the pottu (although she talks Sinhala most of
the time), in other teledramas, such as Ira Handa Yata and Parameshari,
there is an erasure of any signs of Tamilness. These women not only wear
the Sinhala dress, but also go to worship in the Buddhist temple; their
children are also brought up entirely as Sinhalese, with almost no trace
of their mother’s religio-cultural background. This is entirely
sanctioned by the viewers who feel that it is the ‘natural’
thing for a woman to do. Generally,
to be proper citizens of the nation and maintain the boundaries of the
ethnic group, it is the mother who is the functionary in transmitting
the norms of good citizenship. Nira Yuval-Davis and Floya Anthias have
recognized women as participating in the ethnic and national processes.
They argue that: The role of women as ideological reproducers is very
often related to women being seen as the ‘cultural carriers’
of the ethnic group. Women are often the main socializes and … they
may be required to transmit the rich heritage of ethnic symbols and ways
of life to the other members of the ethnic group. (Anthias and Yuval-Davis
1994: 314) However,
in the case of the mixed marriage, this role is divested from the mother
(who may not be from the majority). The grandmother takes on the role
of the mother in socializing the children. In Sura Asura, after losing
their home (which is looted and burnt), Lakshmi’s parents’-in-law
use the excuse of the children’s safety to take them away from their
mother. I use the term ‘excuse’ here because it becomes an
expedient device by which the grandparents can ensure that the Sinhala
religious and cultural norms are systematically transmitted to the children,
portrayed, for instance, in the Buddhist Jataka stories related to them
by their grandfather. Every effort is made to inculcate Sinhala values
in the children, and this is manifest during the family’s visit
to Lakshmi’s parents’ home in Jaffna. The children are unable
to interact with their grandparents and aunts in Tamil, a testimony to
the influence of majority politics in personal relationships. His children
are brought up as Sinhalese, and there is no indication that any attempt
is made to teach them their mother tongue — Tamil. All the interactions
take place in Sinhala, even between mother and children. Thus, her language
is not provided a space in what Suranimala perceives as a ‘Sinhala’
household. Language is a crucial determinant in the parameters of the
mixed relationship. In every case represented here, the language of the
majority operates. The woman communicates with her husband/lover in Sinhala,
while the man does not endeavor to learn or converse in Tamil. In Nisaladiya Sasalaviya,
a different paradigm ensures that Sinhala is protected. The plot device,
of the death of Suresh’s father when Suresh is a young child, means
that the Sinhala mother is bestowed with the sole responsibility of bringing
up her child. Thus, although she valorizes her husband, is it her values,
culture and language that become deterministic. For her child, this predicament
is traumatic. He feels alienated from his father’s race, and has
been brought up as a Sinhalese, speaking the Sinhala language, going to
Temple and following his mother’s religion, yet his name precludes
him from being accepted as a Sinhalese. His tragedy is encapsulated in
the comment: ‘I don’t even know who I am. When the parents
are from two races, the child does not know which race he or she belongs
to.’ Despite the fact that he is a ‘nominal’ Tamil,
this is nonetheless a threat to the Sinhala community, and to Nirmala.
It is this process that is also threatening in the case of intermarriage.
The anxiety of the The
stability of a mixed relationship is often undermined by disruptive forces,
such as sociopolitical or economic circumstances, and may lead to the
separation and division of couples. In the three teledramas considered
here, the relationships are ‘tested’ in a variety of ways.
For instance, in Nisaladiya Sasalaviya, the ‘crisis’ that
impels Suresh and Nirmala to leave the village is the familial opposition.
The security of their relationship is further tested when they have to
return to the village to visit Suresh’s mother. It is at this point
that the climax is reached and the relationship has a positive outcome.
The political circumstances similarly cause disruption in Vishwa Gamana,
but the crisis here leads to tragedy. In
Sura Asura the ethnic riots and subsequent events shore up the rupture
in their relationship. Lakshmi’s mental and physical trauma is effectively
captured as she is placed at the mercy of her husband and his parents.
Although, at the culmination of Sura Asura, the estranged couple are reconciled
when Suranimala goes to Jaffna and ‘rescues’ Lakshmi and the
children from the militants, the overwhelming impression created through
the series is of the negative consequences of a mixed marriage. A lukewarm
ending encoding an optimistic tone does not rehabilitate the series from
the overwhelming negativity engendered by the overlay of religio-cultural
differences portrayed in Suranimala and Lakshmi’s relationship.
The stereotypes the series sought to perpetuate, ‘[…] prove
beyond any doubt that unions between two groups are impossible’
(Cat’s Eye: Sept. 1998). The director pointed out that audience
reactions were also fairly negative: ‘One person told me that after
watching six episodes he had forbidden his family members from watching
this show’.8 A simplistic depiction of mixed marriage, which does
not confront or problematize the overarching gender or ethnic hegemonies,
is the replacement for the paradigm of Sura Asura in an abundance of recent
teledramas (Parameshwari, Yuga Villakuwa, Nisaladiya Sasalaviya and Vishwa
Gamana). This shift in the ideological stance can be situated within the
present sociopolitical matrix. Although the images of mothers and daughters dominate the teledrama, more recently, in the depiction of conflict situations, other roles have been brought to the forefront. Vishwa Gamana enacts the exigencies of women in conflict, and negotiations of agency within restrictive sociopolitical spheres. While exploring the construction of ethnicity here, I also intend to explore whether the terrain of gender revolutionary practice as mapped out in Vishwa Gamana is positive or restrictive for the mobilization of women’s agency. Adele Balasingham, the wife of one of the Liberation of Tamil Tigers’ Eelam (LTTE) ideologues, has described the entry of women into the movement in the following terms: Tamil women guerrillas articulated a tremendous determination to fight the Sri Lankan army who they firmly feel have no place in their homeland. It is the strength of this conviction that allows these young women to fight and rejoice in the success of their military operations; it is the conviction that sustains them emotionally when their colleagues die in battle; it is the conviction that prepares them to make supreme sacrifices. |