A review of The Travelling Circus

The late review is at an advantage, in that it is informed by the published critiques of others and subsequent responses online and in print. In this respect, watching Tracy Holsinger’s The Travelling Circus on the last day of its run was to juxtapose the live performance against reviews that dismissed the production as highfalutin nonsense and others that praised it as compelling theatre.

Tracy’s attempt at devised theatre is without, to my knowledge, precedent in Sri Lankan English drama. With roots in commedia dell’arte, devised theatre is a difficult form, which even seasoned actors balk at since it involves co-creation and improvisation instead of the comparatively more straightforward interpretation, direction and delivery of a script. This dramatic inflorescence requires a high degree of skill and discipline from both director and actor alike. The Travelling Circus, in this respect, was a technical tour de force and, by far, the best production of Tracy’s theatre group Mind Adventures to date. I would rank it amongst the best productions, in any theatrical tradition, I have seen in the past thirteen years. Yet, Tracy’s treatment and selection of subject matter will make this production her most controversial to date, tellingly unappealing to a public more comfortable with a theatre of insouciance based on mindless scripts providing entertainment and escape.

Here there is no escaping the visceral reality of war and its human consequences, even though the action on stage was comically burlesque and satirical. It was a natural fit with advocacy and rare journalism highlighting the plight of those displaced by war in Sri Lanka, through a form and expression essentially political. Concerned with the exploration of psychosocial trauma, violence and human displacement on account of war, the production eschewed easy denouement. The twin denouement to the play, one more hopeful than the other, reminded us that truth is multifaceted, a leitmotif of a production deeply subversive, forcing us to reflect and on occasion, even as we laughed, be ashamed of ourselves.

Other reviews, revealingly by a younger audience demographic and online, have celebrated Tracy’s adroit use of the devised theatre genre to weave a captivating lyricism into the performance. From baila to original rap, brilliant verbal riffs to solos by actors cum singers, The Travelling Circus reflected a diversity of musical form refreshingly original and skilfully combined into the script. One particularly tender moment is when the character of a girl in an IDP camp, after two attempts at song with the word ‘home’ in them shot down by the unscrupulous Camp Warden (marvellously played by Subha Wijesiriwardene), launches into a rendition of Pete Seeger’s “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” worthy of Dietrich. This particular moment is also one example of rapid changes in tone and pace throughout this production, effortlessly switching from the irreverent and funny to the sublime and reflective.

It’s easy to see why this production would appeal to a younger, web-savvy generation generally apathetic to the complex politics of human displacement and war. It was to see on stage the familiar and loved idiom of mash-ups they create and participate in online – at one level a production that was fun and which they could identify with, defying the generational perception of theatre as stodgy, alien, highfalutin or just plain uncool.

The ‘Travelling Circus of Refugees’, a motley band of fantastic characters that entertained to interrogate, featured actors well-known and emergent. For example, Gihan de Chickera’s signature cadence from Last Bus Eke Kathawa was present in this production as well, and used to good effect. Tehani Chitty as a rather animated cow, and Ruvin de Silva as a boy, clearly traumatised, who spoke through numbers stood out in a cast extremely accomplished in their acting. The absorbing nature ofThe Travelling Circus is also a reflection of their courage, for this is a production that will be invariably interpreted by those closed off to any perspective other than their own as theatre condoning the violence of the “Other”. The resulting diatribes will attempt to name and shame the production and its actors as those blind to, in particular, the causes for and conduct of war - jus in bello and jus ad bellum. Yet it is precisely here that, to coin a phrase, these critics will lose the plot. Tracy’s play is about a deep humanism that transcends violent factionalism, self-serving definitions of peace, pyrrhic victories and petty justifications for violence. One does not find, thankfully, an ideal or idealised peace in this production. One denouement to the play, after all, has three characters leaving their IDP camp only to be blown up by mines, which in fact is a real challenge impeding resettlement. On the other hand, through devices on stage such as the question tree that sprouts vital questions on war and peace and the purposefully wicked landmine choreography and lyrics, Tracy’s play unflinchingly illuminates the sheer inhumanity in war, where the banality of evil erases borders dividing aggressors and victims. Given the pathetic post-war mainstream media coverage of the lives of IDPs, this production is informed by and critiques ground realities not many in Colombo will be comfortable with, or able to face. The pro-war, Sinhala nationalist lobby will be the most incensed, and understandably so, for this is the same lobby which normalised the internment of a quarter of a million Tamils in squalid conditions for months after the official end of war. If anything, the politics that undergird The Travelling Circus is a mirror of ourselves, and how most of us justified, perhaps out of fatigue and a desperation for its end, levels of hate, racism, violence, killing, abduction and corruption during war that severely eroded an essential ingredient of democracy – a shared humanity. Post-war, the boy who speaks in numbers tells us in his inimitable way, hope of reconciliation and peace can only be engendered through remembering our past. These are not ideas that have great traction in polity and society today.

Nuga Sevana, on the grounds of the Anglican Church in Colombo, served as an ideal venue for this production. The gnarled branches of the nuga tree and, on the day I went, the rain and mud added an atmosphere impossible to recreate indoors. My first experience of theatre at this venue was over a year ago, and the drawbacks evident at the time – ambient noise, poor sound, bad light and an audience at the mercy of the weather – were addressed through discreet sound amplification that worked well, excellent stage lighting and a marquee that all added greatly to the play’s premise as an impromptu circus act.

Tracy Holsinger is not infallible as a director. Her bathetic production of Sharman Macdonald’s After Juliet earlier this year forced a hurried exit from the venue. Yet, the juvenile After Juliet was unbearable because the expectation of theatre going into any of Tracy’s productions is high – very high. She is one of our most gifted and technically proficient directors, with her worst better than what many others consider their best. The Travelling Circus will not be her most viewed, profitable or liked production. It is commendable and memorable precisely because of this. Tracy’s disdain for the “safe” theatre that is commercially viable is refreshing, and also why we must be particularly thankful for the courageous sponsors of this production, whomust continue to support the theatre of Mind Adventures and others inspired by or like it. As I noted when I interviewed her on public television earlier this year, Tracy’s theatre is deeply political, anchored to her appreciation that there is, in her own words, a “culture of fear, corruption and mockery of law and order that has been forced upon us by the very people who are supposed to protect morals and principles”. This degree of commitment to and love for professionalism in theatre is rare, especially given that it is not a profession one can pursue as a full time career in our country and because the economics of production and profitability often trump theatrical innovation, form and content.

The second, more hopeful dénouement to the play had the boy who spoke in numbers deliver a rousing speech, completely through numbers. These numbers were significant dates and years in our bloody history, to which discerning members of the audience pegged their own memories, prejudices and perspectives. Thus, to the end, Tracy’s play offered no easy solution, no panacea. And even when The Travelling Circus made us laugh, it quickly compelled us ask why we did so, and at what. To the very end, it sprouted through dramatic device and riveting performance vital questions we needed to ask about our status quo, society, politics, prejudices, history and our avowed humanity.

This is theatre at its best.

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For an interview with Tracy Holsinger, click on The Travelling Circus: A different take on IDPs in Sri Lanka

For a longer interview with Tracy speaking on theatre and the arts in Sri Lanka, click on In conversation with Tracy Holsinger

We men and women’s activism

“Where, after all, do human rights begin? In small places, close to home – so close and small that they cannot be seen on any maps of the world… Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerned citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.” - Eleanor Roosevelt, 1958

“Laws will be introduced to remove inequalities among men and women… Women will be assured of enjoying equal status in the society. Within one year, a Women’s Charter of Rights, which provides protection and equality for women, will be enacted. I will arrange to increases (sic) the number of nominations of women to a minimum of 25% of the total number of candidates in respect of Provincial Councils and Local Government authorities.” - Mahinda Chintanaya

Eleanor Roosevelt accepted reluctantly the offer by President Truman to join the US delegation to the first UN General Assembly in London. Although, she wasn’t taken seriously at first, her staunch championing of the rights of refugees won friends and a year after, led to her appointment as Chair of a committee at the UN that proposed an international bill of human rights. Unanimously appointed the first Chairperson of the UN Commission on Human Rights, Eleanor played a pivotal role in the creation of the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). Hansa Mehta, the Indian freedom fighter, and Eleanor were the only two women in the Human Rights Commission. It was Hansa, not Eleanor, who objected to the phrase in the first draft of Article 1 that “all men are brothers…”, noting that this could be interpreted in some countries to exclude women. Hansa’s persistence at incorporating an expression that fully recognised the equality of women and men resulted in the text finally adopted for Article 1, that “all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights”.

I coincidentally happened to be reading about these key architects of the UDHR when the Women and Media Collective (WMC) held a retrospective and exhibition of art and photography at the Lionel Wendt last week, celebrating a quarter century of activism on women’s rights in Sri Lanka. After spousal death, through their own merit, through favouritism, clientelism and occasionally, as elected Presidents and commanders-in-chief, women have indelibly stamped their presence in party politics for decades. And yet, although women make up of 52% of Sri Lanka’s population, they have abysmal representation in Parliament and local government authorities. Problems of agency, empowerment and representation abound and sadly endure. As Chulani Kodikara, writing to Groundviews last year noted, it is the exclusive, violence and male dominated driven party political culture that is a significant obstacle to the representation of women in political institutions, though not the only one. As she notes,

The enormous costs of contesting elections, the thuggery and violence, the competition within the party fostered by the proportional representation system and the general lack of support for women candidates from male colleagues mean that even the few women who are offered, are often reluctant to accept nominations.

Chulani ends her critique by asking whether we need to “revisit and reframe the discourse on increasing political representation of women in Sri Lanka, in order to have an impact in the near future”. The WMC’s retrospective was one response to Chulani’s submission. On the one hand, petitions and letters such as those written by Kantha Handa to President Jayawardene in the 80’s, sans the dateline, articulated concerns and challenges no less dominant in the present context and under incumbent Executive. Flagging the violations of and need to strengthen key social and political rights, including the right to strike, these print and poster campaigns in Sinhala, Tamil and English from the pre-Internet, pre-computer typeset era were essentially disquieting in exposing how little had changed in our violent political culture in general, and apart from some advances, the representation and empowerment of women in particular. Images of women in mainstream politics from 1948 onwards were exceptional, both in the sense of celebrating outstanding women who challenged the status quo and their atypical nature to this day. Particularly striking was the range of rights championed over twenty-five years by women’s organisations, eschewing cultish formations around certain provisions and articles in the UDHR, as well as purely opportunistic interpretations of rights. The posters and photographs on display framed inter alia, outrage, courage, determination, resilience and the remembrances of violence past. On the other hand, WMC’s mobile phone video and photography competitions to get the public to engage with women’s rights made this not just a tired retrospective of twenty-five years, but a tableau alive to current challenges and perceptions of woman and new forms of discourse. I have on many occasions proposed that for women and other similarly marginalised and muted groups, the strategic use of new media and mobiles offer a range of ways, unimaginable even a few years ago, through which existing obstacles to expressing voice gendered concerns, political participation, identity and progressive change can be overcome, or at least, mitigated.

The juxtaposition of Eleanor’s understanding of human rights and our President’s vision for women’s rights is a snapshot of how much Sri Lanka falls short of the UN’s UDHR in spirit and fullest implementation and expression in polity and society. This essential hypocrisy of successive governments in this regard is well documented, but of serious concern is why even after twenty-five years, more women and men fail to challenge the status quo and champion change. Much perhaps has to do with diminishing returns and increasing risk of physical harm, particularly under this government and the culture of impunity it has invested in so heavily and openly. WMC’s retrospective highlighted large civil and political rights movements in the 80s and 90s involving ordinary women and men, galvanised by a common calling to rise up against hate, harm, inequality and injustice. This is rare today.

The most insulting and insensitive language against women is published even in newspapers with female editors. Racists in Sinhala media and online in particular use a vicious argot of profanity against women writers who they find inconvenient, and this is most pronounced in anonymous comments and contributions under a pen name. Coupled with the overarching violence against political activism against the State, a fear psychosis and quite understandably, an unwillingness to be vilified in public, WMC’s exhibition perhaps unintentionally was a record of path-breaking and courageous activism in decline. And yet, the forms of violence such activism bore witness to is evident even today, from that which is systemic and physical to that which is expressed through the media and psycho-social in nature. Perhaps twenty-five years hence, a similar retrospective will capture contemporary struggles to prop women’s and human rights as those which facilitated a more representative and equitable polity and society.

As a woman or man, wouldn’t you be proud to be part of such a progressive narrative?

Published in The Sunday Leader, 16 October 2009

Post-war politics

Victors, if the pre-election shenanigans in the South are any barometer, violently differ on how to share the spoils of war. Unsurprisingly, the war and LTTE are still alive in the pre-election campaigns in the South. Victory against the LTTE and those who championed it are projected as superior, and better fit for political office than those who did not. The nostrums of national security gloss over concerns regarding IDPs. Promises of development abound, as usual without any real basis in economics. Promises of systemic political change, anchored to various pronouncements of the Executive, are also paraded, again without any real sincerity – minority grievances in and to the South, after all, remain largely peripheral to concerns over post-war economic recovery. This however is the first election in the South, the bedrock of the SLFP and its allies, conducted without the glue of war to bind them to a common purpose and enemy. The result is petty bickering, outrageous sexism and high incidents of violence against fellow candidates, usually reserved for those from competing political agencies. Those, especially outside the country interested in regime change, are advised to observe these trends. This fissiparous trend in what during war was an impregnable regime occurs independent of any impetus from the international community, NGOs or independent media. It is rather a reflection of the essential nature of our party politics and electoral system, where course correction eventually checks the worst authoritarianism. Without any all-engulfing effort like war enjoying support in the South, the design and establishment of hegemony becomes increasingly difficult. The regime, deeply cognisant and fearful of this growing disintegration within the party, will seek to contain it through mechanisms it controls and knows best – favouritism, nepotism, party political manipulation, and if the family future is threatened or thwarted, violence.

The end of war provided a significant opportunity for the establishment of a different and more progressive political culture, that we have so tragically lost. Internationally, our hydra-headed post-war foreign policy is about as nuanced and strategic as petulantly giving the West the middle-finger. Domestically, our policies of post-war reconciliation, constitutional reform and development are a mess. Ricocheting from the bizarre to the outrageous, policies and practices of government – from Police brutality to corruption – no longer contained or overwhelmed by coverage of war or by censorship are out in the open and generating public disdain. There is already a shift in media and editorials that were supportive of war yet increasingly impatient with the government’s handling of post-war realities. The tired worldview defining of patriots and traitors and the other pedestrian piffle this government loves to wallow in is political currency soon expended, and not easily replenished. It was useful in war-time. It is useless in peacetime.

We could have instead learnt from a significant failure in Africa – President Julius Nyerere and his experiment in one-party democratic socialism in Tanzania. As the economist Paul Collier notes in his latest book Wars, Guns and Votes, Nyerere’s political leadership built a sense of national identity, without resorting to the idea of an enemy to build this identity – “indeed, he emphasised a Pan-African as well as national identity”. His experiment in socialism was a failure, and in 1985 Nyerere publicly admitted his failure and stepped down from office, the first African head-of-state to voluntarily do so. And yet his enduring legacy, in a region riven with violent identity based conflict, was country enjoying a high degree of social and political cohesion and peace. Or we could learn from China. Zhang Pengjun, one of the key negotiators of the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) was a polymath – diplomat, scholar, poet, playwright, Broadway producer and opera singer. He noted that differences in philosophy and ideology did not impede securing and protecting human rights. Who is of the same mind in the Rajapakse regime, despite their avowed affinity to China today? The economic prosperity New China enjoys is not because of the doctrine of socialism and revolutionary struggle against capitalism. It is because of economic liberalisation and participation in a global compact of nations. India offers very different lessons of identity formation, economic development and multi-lateral diplomacy, no less compelling. Is our government interested in studying and adapting from these and other post-conflict models of social cohesion, economic development and international engagement from Asia to South America and Africa? There is no evidence in this regard. Amongst a tragic collection of similar examples, the Prime Minister’s audacious reference to Monica Lewinsky in a derogatory attack on Hillary Clinton in the media recently and his repeated assertion at the Asia Society in New York that the ICRC was harbouring LTTE terrorists suggest that asinine policies and statements are, far from a source of embarrassment, a matter of pride for the Rajapakse government domestically and internationally.

Ergo, cui bono – therefore, who stands to gain or benefits?  The international pro-LTTE lobby for starters, and the pro-Eelam parties in Sri Lanka. The bungling of post-war policy-making by the government, it’s complete lack of over-the-horizon strategies to address challenges of peacebuilding, and above all, its incarceration of over a quarter of a million IDPs in hellish conditions gives succour to international campaigns supporting violent secessionism in Sri Lanka. There are also powerful regimes that appear to be our friends today who want this. Blueprints designed by them for post-war development, resettlement, reconstruction and military expansion in the North and East not just envision, but actively foment communal unrest in the future. A government pathologically unable to think beyond its own self-preservation and aggrandisement is easy prey for these mercenaries, who are equally adept at greasing palms and egos.

Despite all this of course, this regime will win the Southern Provincial Council elections, and go on to win the Presidential election next year. Thus unshakable and unbeatable in the short term, the EU for example may find that the manic frenzy of activity over the probable non-extension of GSP+ is useful to replay in the future to hold the government accountable for what it has promised regarding the resettlement IDPs, democratic governance and human rights. Unless there is damning evidence from US Department of Defence satellite imagery analysis, evidence of war crimes within Sri Lanka will be limited to the sort of partial narratives broadcast and published in British media recently. None of this registers domestically, or was an issue in the elections conducted yesterday. The significant violence within the SLFP and its erstwhile coalition partners in the lead up to the election signifies greater violence to come, especially as the memory of victory against the LTTE fades. Especially during a general election, this will result internecine violence that costs lives. This loss of life will decrease political capital and increase international scrutiny. Quite independently then, growing international and domestic pressure on multiple fronts could overwhelm and de-stabilise the incumbents to such a degree that the only thing needed for regime change would be the most difficult to engineer and envision.

A new leader for the UNP.

Article published in the Sunday Leader, 11 October 2009.