History made at Galle Face

The Galle Face Green, as it has been known since late British colonial times, was once the battleground of Sri Lankan forces that laid siege to the early European colonial fortress of Colombo. That was in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when Colombo and much of coastal Sri Lanka groaned under the exploitative burden of colonialism. Later, military units of successive occupying European colonial powers used this area as a cavalry exercise ground. Still later, the colonial social elite made it their exclusive esplanade and promenade with an adjacent clubhouse.

The post-colonial era saw the Green become the city promenade for all 'Colombians', rich and poor, of the multi-various mixture of ethnicities for which our biggest city is so famous: Sinhalese, Tamils, Moors, Malays, Burghers, Colombo Chetties, Bharathas, Bhoras and Sri Lankan Chinese. Galle Face is also famous as a promenade for lovers huddled under their umbrellas oblivious to the blazing sun cooled as they are by the ocean winds. It is also a standard feature for sight-seeing for any busload of tourists from the provinces. And every weekend evening, the kites fly high over the Green.

Last week, this much-loved strip of land that, centuries ago, saw warfare, became the site of a historic peace-making between communities that in recent decades saw themselves as locked in conflict if not outright war. After decades of prevarication and ethnically exclusivist manoeuvres, the country's national anthem was formally sung in both major indigenous languages - Sinhala and Tamil.

It was sung at the most important annual ceremony of the Sri Lankan nation-state, namely, Freedom Day.

The symbolism of this action is powerful. This is the most important occasion for the singing of the national anthem. And the site of the event, Galle Face Green, brings home to all Sri Lankans the concretely pluralistic nature of our national society. This is the Green to where all Sri Lankans visiting their largest city gravitate, for fresh constant breeze, the sight of the ocean, the ships and the surrounding skyscrapers and last, but not least, the wonderful gathering of the various communities, tasting the range of ethnic snacks, frolicking on the beach and marvelling at the high-flying kites.

This site of social and cultural unity is surely the best place for the Sri Lankan State to formally declare to the world its political unity. The official singing of the national anthem in both national languages formally declares the inclusive nature of Sri Lankan nationhood.

That this has happened after decades of inter-ethnic war and in the midst of continuing controversy and inflammatory ethnic politics, must be seen as a clear signal of intent by the Government to proceed without delay to re-build national unity. And rather than an enforced 'unity' brought about by war and defeat, this national re-building is on the basis of civilised principles of social inclusivity and a sophisticated multi-culturalism that will harness the energies of all communities for the national good.

'National security', the problem raised by many Sri Lankans over recent decades, cannot be assured in the long-term on the basis of force and bloodshed. Our island's main ecclesiastical institution, the Sangha, has chronicled our history in a way that teaches us the importance of social harmony and negotiation over coercion and brute force in sustaining our civilisation. That sustenance is our security.

True, there are voices of protest - protests that reject the inclusive, multi-lingual, singing of the national anthem and insist on an exclusive right of understanding the words of the anthem in a single language, an exclusive 'right' that immediately estranges people of other languages from the nationally unifying spirit. How can those whose mother tongue is not Sinhala, appreciate the meaning of the lyrics of the national anthem unless they know - and sing - the lyrics in their mother tongue? After all, the anthem is in praise of 'Mother Sri Lanka'.

It is vitally important that those who yet insist on that linguistic exclusivity better understand the paradoxical repercussions of such exclusivism. The carving of separate understandings of what is supposed to be a unifying symbolic ritual only serves to undermine that unifying dynamic.

The moment people are unable to fully understand and aesthetically appreciate the meaning of the anthem, they are alienated and must live a separate national life. Where has such alienation taken us? What was once, mutually, 'Hela' and 'Eela' became, for a few war-ridden decades, 'Thamil Eelam' precisely on the basis of this cultural alienation from the key rituals - in language and song - of national unity.

It has not been easy for the Government to implement this bilingual anthem policy, but it has bravely taken this vital symbolic first step. In a sense, the singing of 'Sri Lanka Maathai' on Freedom Day is a symbolic gesture of intent, a signal of things to come, of further actions to be boldly taken in the re-building of our fractured nation. And the world will appreciate this new and compassionate dynamism emerging in our Dharma Dveepa.