Violence of exclusion

I had the first taste of violence of exclusion when I was admitted to an English medium school in the 1940s. My father who was an ordinary villager left me in the class promising to take me back after school. The class teacher who was a martinet paid no attention to me because I could not speak English. Sitting in a chair in the back row of the class I listened to him explaining a simple poem or working out a sum. Most of the other students seemed to follow him. However, neither the teacher nor the students cared to talk to me or at least smile with me. I felt lonely and miserable.

My position in the class worsened day by day. Even the Sinhala teacher used to speak in English and I felt a fish out of water. Not knowing what to do in such a situation, I cried loudly only to be severely punished by the class teacher. Although I pleaded with my father to have me admitted to a Sinhala medium school, he simply ignored my pleadings saying, "You've no future without English."

Finding no way out of the desperate situation I determined to pick the language of our colonial masters little by little. When I showed some signs of progress, the teacher too appeared to be less harsh in his attitude towards me.

Although this happened many decades ago, I remember it well because it was humiliating and painful to be excluded from others simply because I did not know how to speak English. Apart from that I had come from a rural background where English was hardly spoken. As a result, I found that I was marginalised in the class.

This incident taught me a lot about the violence of exclusion and how it makes you seethe with anger. It robbed me of my potential for friendship and camaraderie. Now I think that it also destroyed all the bonds that emphasise our humanity.

At schools, universities, workplaces, and social gatherings we exclude some people as if they are pariah dogs. Students who come from wealthy homes do not like to associate with those who come from poor homes. Even at university level, violence of exclusion works in a different way. Those who come from leading Colombo schools get together while those who come from Central Colleges find themselves marginalised. Those who can converse in English hardly mix with Sinhala or Tamil-speaking undergraduates. This is one major reason for the inhuman ragging that raises its ugly head from time to time.

Unfortunately, we do not realise that whenever we exclude people from meetings, social or family gatherings, we violate their sense of pride and dignity. Our attitude makes them feel that they are not wanted in our midst. By doing so, we hurt them deeply and crush their self-confidence.

The main reasons for violence of exclusion are prejudice, ignorance and an inflated sense of ego. Those who are crushed and made to feel humiliated will not allow themselves to be treated this way for long. At some point they will rebel against such inhuman treatment or retaliate with other types of violence.

I received the same shabby treatment from some of my seniors in a leading newspaper group (not Lake House) when I decided to cut my teeth as a journalist some thirty years ago. The Chief Sub Editor and other senior journalists completely ignored me and refused to cooperate with me for the only reason that I was not one of them. They resented training a young man who was a non-smoker and teetotaller.

Although it is easy to practise violence of exclusion, we must try to get rid of this scourge by practising inclusion. At schools, universities or workplaces, we can welcome newcomers with a handshake, a warm smile, or a pleasant greeting. We must show a genuine desire to know the other person and make him/her feel wanted.

At a recent wedding in the city, some of the guests had come from the village. They were dressed in typical village attire. The host who did not wish to exclude them from the others made many attempts to introduce them to others. However, the two groups never mixed. This would not happen if all of us show some measure of generosity towards others however different we may be.

The violence of exclusion can be seen in certain families. Sometimes, some members of the family withdraw from those who love them. It is strange but true that some husbands do not speak to their wives. And some fathers do not talk to their sons and daughters for various reasons. This is a kind of silent exclusion. Most of us are guilty of this kind of violence of exclusion.

Since almost all of us have been at the receiving end of the violence of exclusion, we have to make an attempt to offset this trend. You can practise some kind of empathy in your family circle and extend it to other areas of life such as schools, universities, and workplaces. I do not see any other antidote to the violence of exclusion.