ETHNOGRAPHY IN THE TIME OF CORONA
Social impact of the COVID-19 pandemic in Sri Lanka
Sindi Haxhi
Student Number: 12757454 cindychatzi@yahoo.com
Supervisor: Dr. Oskar Verkaaik Medical Anthropology and Sociology University of Amsterdam
Acknowledgments
Having to do ethnography in such a turbulent time has been an experience that has taught me more about my profession than any class could ever have. Most importantly, it taught me that it is in these uncertain times that people come together to help one another, and this researcher could have never happened without the support of some wonderful people. I would like to take the time here and acknowledge some of these people who have contributed, officially or unofficially, to the final product of my ethnographic work.
First of all, this research could have never come to life without the help of my local supervisor, Dr. Ruwan Ranasinghe, as well as the whole Uva Wellassa University. When I arrived in Badulla, it was the day that marked the beginning of the lockdown and the nation-wide curfew, which would become our normality for the next two months. During this time, following the vice-chancellor's decision, Professor Jayantha Lal Ratnasekera, I was offered free accommodation inside the campus as well as free transportation to the city centre for essentials shopping. For the next three months, every staff member at the campus made sure I would feel like home, something so crucial during a time of isolation. Words could never describe how grateful I am to each and every one of them for teaching me the essence of solidarity and hospitality. Later on, when I was finally ready to start my fieldwork, free transportation was arranged for me to travel outside Badulla. I want to specifically thank the teaching staff of the
Tourism Department for arranging surprise getaways in beautiful landscapes during the end of my fieldwork, as I way to “shake-off” my quarantine blues. Often when I am in moments of isolation, I tend to get used to and dwell in my loneliness. So, what you don’t know is that your friendship and positivity kept me motivated to push my limits, get out of my comfort zone that at times can be proven toxic for me, and give my best. Dr. Ruwan Ranasinghe, “Ruwan Sir”, thank you for all the support on an academic and
personal level. Without your calm spirit and organisational skills, this research would practically not be possible. Professor Jayantha Lal Ratnasekera, thank you for the hospitality, your informative conversations and articles and the dinners at your house. Lecturer Chandi Karunarathne, I could write a whole chapter for you. Thank you for offering me your beautiful friendship and for supporting me every step of the way. Thank you for accompanying me during my field visits, bringing me in contact with participants and being my Sinhala translator. You made everything so much easier. Mr. Ali Abdulla Idroos, thank you for being my Tamil interpreter and for patiently accompanying me during my interviews and field visits. To Kiruba, Dambika, and the rest of the people on the campus; I consider you my friends. Thank you for treating me like family. Bohoma stutiyi & Ayubowan!
Besides all the staff members, I would like to thank the participants as well as all the people that I met along the way during my fieldwork for being so open and accepting. From sharing a Tamil breakfast or a cup of Ceylon tea, to sharing their stories, worries and opinions, these people were the backbone of this research. I am forever
appreciative for the time you gave and the imprint you left on me on a personal level.
Secondly, I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr Oskar Verkaaik, for taking an interest in me and my research. Thank you for being patient and calm during times of such uncertainty and for always motivating and advising me.
This thesis would not have taken the form that it does without the contribution and support of my friends. Thanks to my best friend Vassia, for always being a source of inspiration and knowledge. At the most anxious times, you are the anchor in my raging sea of emotions. Anisa, Zack, Miranda, I have no words for you. Thank you for offering me a place to stay during the writing period of this thesis and for always keeping my
spirit up. Thank you, Themis, for your invaluable help, the feedback, and the brainstorming. I could have never done it without you.
Finally, I want to thank my beautiful family for always being by my side and supporting my every step. Mom, Dad, I know it’s not easy to have an ethnographer as your
daughter; always moving across the globe, always catching planes. I would never be where I am now without your love, acceptance and encouragement. I am grateful for all your sacrifices. You inspire me to do better, keep moving and evolve as a student, but most importantly, as a person. Thank you for embracing me and my crazy ideas and impulses and helping me turn them into reality. This thesis is dedicated to you. Ju dua!
Table of Contents:
INTRODUCTION LITERATURE REVIEW METHODOLOGY
THEORETICAL FOUNDATIONS:
ARRIVING ΑΤ THE FIELD: Is this the Apocalypse? RESEARCH QUESTIONS
CHAPTER 1: MINORITIES IN SRI LANKA AND COVID-19 CHAPTER 2: AYURVEDA USE DURING THE PANDEMIC
CHAPTER 3: SPIRITUALITY AND COVID-19 FINAL THOUGHTS
REFERENCES
ETHNOGRAPHY IN THE TIME OF CORONA
Social impact of the COVID-19 pandemic in Sri Lanka
INTRODUCTION
THE RESEARCH THAT NEVER HAPPENED (AND ANOTHER THAT DID)
It would be remiss of me to begin writing about my research without addressing the elephant in the room first; I am, of course, referring to the research that never happened. Without delving into too much unnecessary detail, I have to mention however that, like many other researchers and students doing fieldwork, my research plans were so profoundly affected by the pandemic, that I had to scrap them and start over from scratch completely. To say this was a difficult task would be an
My initial plan was to study the mental health and general well-being of the indigenous Vedda population of Sri Lanka. By mid-March, once COVID-19 had already been declared a pandemic by the WHO, and with a lockdown looming on the horizon, the Vedda decided to leave their villages and moved further in the jungle, to protect themselves. When I learned about this, I knew there was no possible way I could complete my research as planned. But it was the curfew that made me doubt the possibility of carrying out fieldwork at all, coming into effect only days after my arrival. Under those circumstances, I had to decide: should I return to Amsterdam or stay in Sri Lanka and wait? Could I come up with a new subject, and how would that, in turn, affect my studies?
On May 11th the curfew was finally over. By that time, and after discussions with both my local supervisor and my supervisor in Amsterdam, I had already decided to research what lay in front of me all along; the social impact of the COVID-19 pandemic in Sri Lanka.
I should, at this point, admit that I harboured many doubts regarding my ability to research this topic since the choice of such a developing subject like the pandemic would pose numerous difficulties. When I began contemplating this subject, the first thing I did was search online to see if and how other social scientists were dealing with the current situation. I was looking for research focusing on the social impact of the pandemic, while also offering insights and advice on ethnographic methods under the
"new normal". What I was really looking for was some kind of confirmation that, indeed, other social scientists also find themselves in a similar situation at this very moment, that they are forced to come to terms with similar difficulties as I do and that I am, in fact, part of a larger academic whole, part of which has already begun investigating this situation as it unfolds.
And although I did find a number of papers discussing the pandemic from different lenses and perspectives, for the most part, not much ethnographic research had been published so far, which is understandable, since qualitative research takes time. But at that point, this did little to assuage my impatience for answers and most importantly, for deciding on a thesis topic.
In one of my journal entries, I wrote “The clock is ticking, and soon I will have to present
something, and I can’t find anything that interests me. I could research the current Corona crisis, but I feel as if it is ‘too big’ for me. It’s not just the fact that I don’t know much about the disease. What I found even more challenging was the aspect of “unprecedentedness” that characterises this pandemic. If something is ‘so new’, then who am I to research it?”.
However, as I started to become more acclimated to and at peace with my new
environment, and the situation in general, I started realising that the social ramifications of this pandemic were in front of me. They had been part of my daily conversations with
my local supervisor, my friends and family, back home and even with the university staff members next to whom I lived. They were documented in the media, they could be observed in the short walks we were allowed to go out on. It was only when I stopped fearing the “unknown” of this crisis, and started to navigate the quarantine one day at a time, that I realized that I had finally found my subject, or perhaps, that it had found me.
I wanted to study how people in Sri Lanka make sense of the pandemic, and in return, how they make sense of their relationships, culture and identity. How is the current situation transforming their everyday lives? What mechanisms do they use to protect themselves and their communities and loved ones from this health threat? How do they talk about the current situation and what explanatory models do they use? What role do pre-existing inequalities play during such a health and socio-economic crisis? Granted, attempting to describe the social impact and consequences of the pandemic is, like the disease itself, a virtually never-ending task, as “social” is by its very nature fluid and diffused across every aspect of human existence.
This thesis narrows its focus on three distinct points: a) The effects of the pandemic on Sri Lankan minorities, b) ) the use of Ayurveda during the COVID-19 crisis and c) the role of religious perspectives and spirituality in conceptualizing the pandemic. These three perspectives emerged naturally, following discussions and interviews with my participants.
Finally, I should note that being in a position to carry out research at this juncture is a great privilege. I was lucky enough to be in a country with a very low death toll and a small number of cases. That offered me a great sense of security and consequently allowed me to focus on my studies and research planning.
A QUICK OVERVIEW OF THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC IN SRI LANKA
The first confirmed case of the virus was reported in Sri Lanka on the 27th of January 2020, when a 44-year-old Chinese tourist was admitted to the National Institute of Infectious Diseases. She was later released from the hospital fully recovered on February 19th. The first Sri Lankan local to be tested positive with COVID-19 was reported on March 10. After that date, new cases started being reported on a daily basis, even though numbers were still relatively low. The general public was instructed to follow proper hygiene rules and self-quarantine. March 28 marked the first death of a COVID-19 patient in the country. Following this, a curfew and a ban in trans-provincial transportations was implemented. By the end of the month, the Sri Lankan Army had erected 45 quarantine centres throughout the country.
During April, more and more positive cases were reported, at an alarming rate. On the 11th of May, the 52-day curfew was lifted. In that span of time, the total number of confirmed cases surpassed 1000. However, the death toll has not exceeded -as of this writing- 11 total victims, a very low number, especially compared to the death toll of
other countries. As of August 6th 2020, the total number of confirmed cases is at 2839. Ironically, even though Sri Lanka was ranked as the 16th highest-risk country prone to the COVID-19 pandemic in April, it was also named the 9th best in the world for its immediate response.
I should also note that, due to the COVID pandemic being an ongoing crisis, with no clear end in sight for the foreseeable future, most of the data I am utilizing is in flux. Things can change radically from one day to the next, and therefore, I will not focus on the more volatile elements of this developing situation.
LITERATURE REVIEW
While in anthropological research, some form of literature review approach is
customary, wherein one discusses existing literature pertaining to the main subject at hand, my approach will diverge slightly, when it comes to the structure of my thesis. I will be, at first, discussing pandemics in general from a literature review standpoint. This section of the thesis includes some of the most important bibliography from different social disciplines that helped me gain insight regarding the research and analysis of such medical phenomena from a social science viewpoint. Afterwards, however, for each sub-question that arises, I will be delving deeper on the basis of more specialized
relevant literature. For this reason, more narrow-themed literature will be later reviewed and analysed thematically in each sub-question.
In their work, Networked Disease, Ali and Keil examine the relationship between globalization and infectious diseases, focusing their attention on the case of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS), which sparked a global outbreak in 2002-2004. SARS was historically the first infectious disease that brought the world to the
realization that the next pandemic is now only a plane ticket away. Through this perspective, the writers attempt to discern which urban aspects can give rise to such pandemics in globalized cities, both in the West and the East. Their research unsettled the preconception that safe and healthy urban environments, with mobility and access to medical treatment, do in fact, exist in a globalized world. SARS, indeed, managed to expose the socio-biological and political vulnerabilities of contemporary urban
environments around the world to such infections, due to a tremendous shift in the patterns of human living conditions and traveling, which in turn affected and heightened the patterns of pathogen distribution. International migration and mobility, rapid
urbanization, inadequate infrastructure and lack of access to public health services, ecological changes, such as climate change and generalized poverty, are listed as the main factors behind contemporary epidemics and pandemics. With this perspective in mind, it becomes apparent that human populations shape and are shaped by diseases, as disease exists in as well as because of the urban environments and not in spite of them, often serving as a vector for pathogen transmission. After all, viruses and humans
share the same ecological space, and epidemics are part of the human condition (Ennis-McMillan M. C. & Hedges K.; 2020). Through this paper, the sociopolitical, economic and cultural aspects of causality of respiratory infectious diseases are
examined and light is shed on the human and environmental interactions in a globalized setting, going beyond a strictly biomedical model of explanation for pandemic episodes. By examining the SARS pandemic in seven different countries and in a multidisciplinary way, a new conception of global cities is introduced, where lines are drawn connecting financial, political and sociocultural factors to infection and contagion, which result in the emergence of international and local health, societal and developmental threats.
The social and political conditions and consequences related to pandemics have been examined by social scientists and historians for years. In fact, over 100 years ago,
Science magazine published a paper analysing human behaviours and societal
responses amidst the Spanish Flu pandemic (Soper, G. A. 1919: 501-506). There is a prevailing popular assumption, when discussing mentalities during the course of epidemics and pandemics that such health emergencies can give rise to hate and prejudice in a societal setting. However in his paper “Pandemics: Waves of Disease”, Cohn surveys the history of different pandemics in the West, from the plague of Athens (490 BC) to the HIV/AIDS pandemic, coming to the conclusion that, pandemics -albeit with some historical exceptions- do not inevitably spark hate and episodes of
generalized violence. On the contrary, they have often managed to unify communities and bring people together, despite the preexisting social, religious, political, cultural and
ethnic tensions and differences between them. Through his work, different political and historical reactions and experiences of pandemics become apparent. However, this analysis does not conclude in the formulation of a precise theoretical framework
regarding which factors and under what circumstances hate, violence, denomination of minorities and blaming of the “Other”, do, indeed, arise in a given society and time.
The claim that a pandemic can create and/or intensify the reduction of hate and political, religious and ethnic violence and prejudice is further backed up by the analysis of
Dovidio, Gaertner and Saguy (2007), where they discuss notions of “togetherness”, shared values and cooperation across individuals, communities, governments and states in order to fight diseases, that can, in turn, result in the reorganization of
communities, creating opportunities for coordinated efforts and solidarity, giving rise to a sense of community and common destiny while also fostering local, national and global acts of cooperation. Such acts of “coming together” have already started to become apparent since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, for example through
donations of medical supplies and services as well as the creation of COVID-19 relief funds (Booth 2020).
Furthermore, the inspection of behaviours and attitudes in cases of health emergencies and disasters, reveals that altruism, cooperation and norm-governed behaviour with respect for protective measures can not only exist but, even more so, is quite common: these are widespread behaviours that often characterize people and societies’
responses in pandemic settings, despite the expected feelings of fear and panic (Drury, J. 2018: 38-81). Again, such acts of solidarity have been observed during the current pandemic in different countries and societies, through the work of organizations, foundations, mutual aid groups and individual initiatives. This leads us to an examination of how and why people cooperate in situations of severe health
emergencies, crisis and disasters. Throughout recent literature works, it is suggested that such behaviours of collectiveness, crowd solidarity and community stem from an emerging sense of shared identity and experience, a feeling of shared struggles and being together during such a health crisis (Quarantelli 2001; Drury et al. 2009).
Solidarity networks and their presence both online and offline in times of crisis are also discussed more recently in Gracjasz work, where she talks about long-term networks and new initiatives in Gdańsk, Poland amidst COVID-19 (Gracjasz 2020). There, she analyses strategies of dealing with the unprecedented implications of COVID-19 in a novel and socially unified way. In Gdańsk, she observed individuals’ and anarchist organizations’ initiatives to distribute hot meals to the homeless. Hunter-Pazzara, who specializes in anthropology of tourism, documents the devastating effects of the crisis for the city of Playa del Carmen in Mexico. There, as he describes, unionized workers in the tourist industry have cultivated solidarity and shared efforts to support each other, which begs the question; if people are able to demonstrably come together and join efforts in order to address the situation that COVID-19 has created, then could it also be within the realm of possibility that other present and future global problems may be
addressed with the same altruistic energy? If so, then the further research and documentation of the cases and factors that bring people together in the face of
adversity should be an imperative task for anthropologists and other social scientists, as there are still many lessons to be gleaned that can find applications elsewhere.
Social inequalities and their connection to the experience of illness and disease is another important factor that has attracted the interest of social scientists for years and is frequently referenced in papers and articles. In fact, their connection to global
pandemics was first recognised and analysed in 1931, when Sydenstricker surveyed the effects of the Spanish Flu of 1918 on the working class in the US, concluding that incidents of illness and transmission were higher in their population. These findings were later backed up by other historians, who confirmed that incidents of disease were higher among economically disadvantaged populations in America, as well as other countries. Similar data, for instance, could be found in India , Norway , Sweden, 1 2
England and Wales . Not only were marginalized groups at a higher risk of contracting 3
the disease, but they were also faced with the tremendous later implications of the Spanish flu, which cemented their financial disadvantages and lack of access to public
1 Murray CJ, Lopez AD, Chin B, et al. Estimation of potential global pandemic influenza mortality on the
basis of vital registry data from the 1918-20 pandemic: a quantitative analysis. Lancet 2006;368:2211–8
2 Mamelund SE. A socially neutral disease? Individual social class, household wealth and mortality from
Spanish influenza in two socially contrasting parishes in Kristiania 1918-19. Soc Sci Med 2006;62:923–40
3 Chowell G, Bettencourt LMA, Johnson N, et al. The 1918–1919 inuenza pandemic in England and
or private healthcare. This shook the conception that illness is neutral and disease hits everyone in the same way, not discriminating against rich or poor.
More recently, with regards to the H1N1 pandemic, evidence has been presented through multiple research endeavours which further solidifies the fact that such health emergencies can affect people who face social inequalities differently. For example, in a research on social determinants and hospitalization rates during the outbreak of the H1N1 pandemic in Canada, it was made readily apparent that financially deprived people were hospitalized at higher rates than the rest of the population (Lowcock et al. 2012). Another research taking place in the USA came up with similar data when
examining the medical and behavioural factors on influenza-like illnesses (Biggerstaff et al. 2014; 142:114–25). The results of these researches become even more relevant when studying the current COVID-19 pandemic through an anthropological lens, as more and more data from different countries and territories confirms the fact that social inequalities continue to play an important part, heightening the risk of infection and transmission (Chen, Krieger 2020).
In addition, pre-existing, deeply entrenched social inequalities (with regards to gender, sexuality, age, ethnicity, class, etc.) are not only connected to a lack of access to health services, a bigger risk of contracting infections and therefore poorer overall health, but also appear to affect the behaviours of people during a health emergency, such as their ability to comply with the protective measures and recommendations that are enacted
during a pandemic (Deitz & Meehan 2019 ΄Cockerham et al. 2017). Financial instability and social marginalization are further connected with higher morbidity rates due to infectious or chronic diseases, as has been suggested in a plethora of scientific works (Fothergill & Peek 2004; Bolin & Kurtz 2018).
It is worth noting that the impact of COVID-19 on social inequalities is not related only to the virus and its transmission per se. The policy measures taken to prevent the spread of the disease have coalesced with pre-existing inequalities, affecting the way that marginalized groups live through and experience this unforeseen pandemic. The social consequences of the lockdown have been examined and discussed extensively by social scientists (Bambra et al. 2020). Such works present examples of unequal experiences of lockdown and quarantine (due to working conditions, unemployment, lack of access to internet, urbanity, etc.), adding to the argument that the experience of a pandemic is not neutral or equal for everyone.
Furthermore, issues of financial state, class and economic disadvantages often intersect with ethnicity and race, which in turn make up another social determinant for health and health-seeking behaviours. Notions of intersectionality become crucially useful in analysing such themes, as race and socio-economic inequalities are often intertwined. Marginalized groups and ethnic minorities, such as immigrants and refugees, display vulnerability to contracting and transmitting a disease, as well as, a general distrust for the healthcare system due to previous and continuous
experiences of discrimination against them (Quiñones et al. 2019; Marsden 2018). Feelings of distrust, in turn, can affect their attitudes with regard to public health measurements and information, making them more suspicious of following authority orders and regulations ( Demaris,& Yang 1994; Brehm & Rahn 1997; Smith 1997; Alesina & La Ferrara 2002).
Gender inequalities have unsurprisingly been connected with the COVID-19 crisis, and it has become clear that this health emergency is affecting women disproportionately on a physical, financial, social and psychological level. (Madgavkar et al., 2020). The increase in violence during quarantine is another phenomenon that supports the
argument that pandemics affect people differently, often creating problems that are not directly related to the virus itself. According to WHO reports, COVID-19 can exacerbate the risk of violence against women during periods of isolation and home confinement, especially from their intimate partners and other family members. ”As family members spend more time in close contact and families cope with additional stress and potential economic or job losses”, episodes of physical or verbal abuse become more frequent.
Moving on, cultural norms and perceptions can affect peoples’ reactions, responses, behaviours and attitudes towards pandemics (Markus & Kitayama 1991). It has been suggested that cultures that endorse individualism, for example, Europe or the USA, see the Self as independent (Triandis 1995). On the other hand, cultures in Asia place a greater value on notions of interdependence, emphasizing a strong commitment and
respect towards family, community, clan, nation and other collectives (Kitayama et al. 2019). The examination of cultural variations such as these can help in comprehending the ways in which people behave during the pandemic, as well as the level of
adherence that they showcase with regards to the various prevention measures and regulations, hence, affording us with a clearer insight on the different experiences of the pandemic.
METHODOLOGY
Naturally, this research was, to a great extent,into a task of methodological exploration for me, given the unprecedented effects of Covid-19 in fieldwork research and social sciences in general. Understanding the social and cultural landscape at hand was a constant process that unfolded throughout my entire research. The task of ethnographic immersion is trivial either way, so I think it is understandable that a thicker layer of
difficulty is added when one is presented with an opportunity to perform their research in a time of crisis and generalized panic, on a local, national and international level.
As has been made apparent through other historical cases of epidemics and
pandemics, qualitative methods are crucial in capturing and comprehending how people make meaning of health and illness matters (Schatz et al., 2013; Teti et al., 2015). Through such methods, it is possible to document different viewpoints, meanings and social realities. It is through qualitative research that we can gain insight in the different
perspectives and narratives and to better grasp the complexity of the current Covid-19 pandemic (Leach et al., 2020)
Consequently, my ethnographic source material is diverse and dispersed. Triangulation was used in order to assist the validity of this research, as I used the data from
interviews, observations from formal and informal conversations and extensive review and analysis of existing literature. The data presented in this thesis mainly steam from the 16 in-depth, semi-structured interviews that took place throughout my research with people from different cultural, ethnic, religious and professional backgrounds, in order to investigate the notations, conceptions and experiences of people during the
Coronavirus crisis. It is worth noting though that the level of “in-depthness”, so to speak, greatly depended on the participant and the level of language barriers we were facing during the interview. For example, participants with stronger English speaking skills could provide me with more information during interviews, with the conversations between us flowing more easily and generally lasting longer. This can also create limitations, as people with a better grasp of the English language can easily monopolize the conversation. I tried to address this issue by using different interpreters (for
Sinhalese and Tamil) with people who did not know or feel confident enough to speak in English.
The research took place in the span of 6 weeks, starting on May 11th, which was the day the curfew that had been implemented by the government as a protective measure
was finally lifted. I managed to find my participants through my local supervisor and his connections (friends, colleagues, etc.). Additionally, my observations and journal entries written both during periods of isolation and during the researching period, also form a big part of my collected ethnographic material. It is worth mentioning, however, that classic anthropological methods such as participant observation could not be used to the extent that I would prefer, since the situation did not allow for it (social distancing, isolation, curfew, ban of transportation, etc.).
Lastly, the use of digital tools, including fieldwork via social media and online interviews, have greatly assisted researchers during the pandemic and have brought to light useful information, perhaps re-shaping and renewing the way we see anthropological
methods. Unfortunately, I was not able to use any of these; internet access was not readily available to a sizable portion of the population of Badulla, where I resided, and even I often struggled when it came to having uninterrupted/problem-free online access.
My examination and discussion of the worldviews and perceptions on well-being and disease will follow a cultural relativist perspective. According to this, as Wigg (1999) points out, "Definitions of health differ, according to the point of view of the one who is defining it." In the realm of health, there is no universal definition or worldview on illness and anomaly. Through this lens, my goal is to examine Sri Lankan (indigenous,
ayurvedic, biomedical, buddhist, Islamic, Hindu, etc..,) beliefs and behaviours towards health and healthcare-seeking, taking into consideration their cultural and social context to my best ability. Under such a perspective, wellness is not seen as something
detected “in” the body or mind, but rather something that is affected by ecological, financial, intellectual, and social indicators. This would provide me with a wider ability to understand, talk about and observe wellness or lack thereof, as well as ideas and attitudes surrounding it.
Construction of Social and Clinical realities
Introduced by Berger and Luckmann and later used by Kleinman when discussing the future of global health, construction of social reality is a fundamental theory according to which the world is “made”, shifted, carved through cultural ideas, perceptions, beliefs, practices etc (Kleinman, 2010). This relates the above remarks on cultural relativism, meaning that concepts of health are seen and understood through constructed
conceptualizations about the world, which in turn slowly become legitimized and part of social reality. Social reality is internalized by individuals as symbolic systems of norms
and meanings that govern their behaviour, communication with others and the
perception of the world. Social realities therefore define our what we perceive as “real”. Generally speaking, in small-scale, preliterate societies its members have more
homogenous social realities. On the contrary, in developed societies social realities are often fragmented, and there exist distinct “plural life-worlds” as Schutz calls them (1970). In developing countries, like Sri Lanka, one notes an amalgamation of both homogenous social realities of the indigenous/ oral traditions as well as plural life-worlds of modernity and new social forms. This can be clearly seen in their use of both
Ayurveda and biomedicine, which will be discussed later on.
Clinical reality is a term coined by Kleinman (1980), and it describes “socially constituted contexts that influence illness and clinical care”. A clinical reality is
constituted by several parts, such as subjective experiences, idioms of distress, forms of diagnosis and treatment, all of which are culture-based. It therefore represents the cognitive construction of reality in a medical/clinical setting, a concept that will be used to answer the second and third sub-questions of this research, regarding the use of Ayurveda and the role of spirituality in understanding, experiencing and coping with the COVID-19 pandemic in the Sri Lankan society. Through this lens, the cultural
significance and explanatory models of the pandemic will be described and analysed.
According to Kleinman (1996), social suffering is the “collective and individual human suffering associated with life conditions shaped by powerful social forces”. As a term, it is used in medical anthropology, ethnopsychiatry and global mental health to describe an emotional, psychological, psychosomatic or physical pain and discomfort, caused by social forces and factors (e.g.: financial state, class, bureaucracy, etc.). A deeply
interpersonal and often shared experience, social suffering can be used to understand the causative relations between society/institutions and health disparities. From this perspective, health and societal problems and risk factors are examined together in an interconnected manner—socioeconomic and sociopolitical factors as seen as conditions for the emergence of diseases. Furthermore, suffering and pain are understood as not only affecting the individual but their social networks as well, from their family to their community; hence,pain or disorder is ‘de-individualized’. Familial, friendship and community bonds can at times influence perceptions, behaviours and decisions regarding health.
RESILIENCE
Following this theory (Weick, Rapp, Sullivan & Kisthardt, 1989), resilience can be seen as a process that follows situations of significant adversity (Theron 2016). It can also be seen as the outcome of an adverse situation. In medical anthropology it is used to describe a collective adaptability and can help elucidate and determine risk factors, social dynamics and social processes. It provides an understanding of human
behaviours when faced with adversity, often taking into consideration the ethnoreligious social and ecological environment and social justice. I am particularly interested in seeing how different ethnoreligious minorities facing financial problems and structural racism, develop resilience during the pandemic, by solidarity acts and manifestations of “togetherness”. “Communities can find meaning in their suffering and are able to
transmute their negative experiences in a positive way” (Papadopoulos 2007).
STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Structural violence is a term introduced by sociologist Johan Galtung (1969), to describe how social structures and institutions can prevent people from meeting their basic
needs. Forms of structural violence include institutionalized racism, sexism, classism, ethnocentrism, majoritarianism and elitism, the recognition and understanding of which will become relevant when answering the first question of the research, regarding the effect of the pandemic on marginalized ethnoreligious minorities in Sri Lanka. Following this theory, we focus on acts and strategies of violence that are not carried out by individuals but rather emerge from societal structures, like political and governmental organizations. Such organizations and institutions constrain individual agency, denying certain groups their human potential because of the social status imposed on them. Although an important theoretical framework, this concept’s drawback is its broadness and vagueness, as many social scientists have pointed out (Levine 2010; Schinkel 2010; Webb 2019). For this reason, we have to be specific when discussing issues of
structural violence, making sure to explain the exact cultural and historical contexts that shape it, combining micro-level and macro-level accounts of violence in order to paint a detailed picture of the social landscape under examination. To that end, I have included introductions that explain the historical, cultural and political background of each
ethnoreligious minority, for the purposes of contextualization.
INTERSECTIONALITY
This theoretical framework allows for the examination of how our social, cultural and political identities intersect and combine, forming modes of oppression, inequality, discrimination, privilege and opportunity. Coined as a term by Crenshaw (1989), intersectionality has been frequently used in papers and journal entries regarding the current pandemic in order to analyze the social landscape that COVID-19 has created and is continuing to create (Lokot 2020; Hankivsky & Kapilashrami 2020; Bowleg 2020). According to this theoretical lens, our social location is the result of the
intertwinement of our racial, class, gender, sexual, ethnic and national identities and the experiences that stem from them (Cooper 2016). The examination of such experiences reveals structural hierarchies as well as different forms and levels of privilege and oppression. By looking at different concepts of domination and privilege, we can begin to comprehend social inequality as something multidimensional and complex
(Crenshaw 2011; 2016; 2019; Bello, B. G., & Mancini; 2011; Fixmer-Ortiz ; 2015). After all, disadvantage and inequality do not present homogeneously within an oppressed
group, as will be discussed later on in the case of female Indian Tamil tea workers. My goal, after all, is to study how COVID-19 has affected communities, lived experiences, and manifestations of power.
ARRIVING ΑΤ THE FIELD: Is this the Apocalypse?
On March 15 I arrived in Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka after a long and tedious trip. I do not believe that at this point I had fully realized the situation at hand. Not in the
slightest. Of course during the journey, the possibility of me falling ill and therefore upsetting my research schedule did cross my mind. This concern further proves how little I knew about the situation, as my general understanding of “falling ill with Corona” was that it was that much different from the common flu. During the first few days, I did not even think that this health threat could affect me in any physical, psychological, or academic way.
As I entered the hostel where I would stay for a day, I started to realize that perhaps the people of Sri Lanka understood and treated the pandemic a lot differently than the Dutch did at that point. I wrote my name, age, and nationality on a notebook as requested by the hostel owner. “Everybody has to do it. Corona, you know?” she told me. When another tourist, who was also in the process of providing his information at the reception, was asked where he was from, he answered that he was Italian, and
immediately regretted doing so. Italy was then at the epicentre of the pandemic, a horrific example of what could happen to a country if the virus spiralled out of control. “I live in England though, I am half British” he explained, but that did not seem to ease the receptionist’s and her friend’s worries. Her friend told her that he should not stay in the hostel as that would be too dangerous. After negotiations, he was finally allowed to stay and rent a room. “I don’t know why I said Italian. I have lived in Italy my whole life, but
my mom is from England and I study there. I was so tired I wasn’t even thinking about Corona at that moment”.
Later on, we went for a walk in the city with the half-Italian, half-British man along with a Belgian tourist we met at the hostel. Both had recently left their jobs in order to travel throughout Asia. They would stay for about a month in Sri Lanka and later on they had planned to visit other Southeast Asian countries. The Belgian man even invited me to his birthday party that would take place at an exotic Sri Lankan beach the next month. All of these conversations about travelling and experiencing the beauty of the world seem so out of place now that I think back on them. We really had no clue what was really going on, and even less, about what was coming in just two days' time.
When we returned to the hostel late that night, the receptionist was waiting for us anxiously. She informed us that her neighbours found out that she accepted tourists in her hostel and they asked her to tell us to leave. “They told me that ever since they saw
virus”. The neighbours' reaction is understandable, given that at that time, a few local
Sri Lankan citizens had already tested positive after coming in contact with foreign visitors. It was also said that the tourists who infected them knew they were carriers and had allegedly taken antipyretic medicine in order to pass the COVID-19 control at the airport. Their actions were heavily criticised by the Sri Lankan mainstream
media,10-hour and that would justify, to an extent, the feelings of suspiciousness and fear towards strangers that had come in from Western countries. I have to note, though, that this was the first and only time I felt being treated with suspicion during my entire stay in the country. On the other hand, I have countless examples showcasing Sri Lankans' respect, acceptance and solidarity towards me, documented in my fieldwork journal.
I will always remember that night in Colombo, as it was my last taste of normality; nothing would be the same the next day. I took a 10 hour train ride to Badulla, full of tourists from different Western countries. Almost no one in the train was wearing a mask, an image so different than what would become normal only days later. When I finally arrived at Badulla, I was met by a Professor from the Uwa Wellassa University. She advised me to self-quarantine for about three days, and after that, my research could begin. However, the very next day, a nationwide curfew was implemented. In my mind, that curfew was but a small hiccup in my plans. In reality, the curfew would become part of our “new normal”, as it would end up lasting 52 days.
My first reaction to the whole pandemic, and the measures that were introduced was denial. Denial, denial, denial, it was not that serious, it would not last long; itBuddhistot affect my research design. Clearly, this could not be further from the truth. New norms of living and interacting had just started to unravel right in front of my, and pretty much everyone else’s, eyes. This was my introduction to the New Normal.
RESEARCH QUESTIONS
Following the theoretical framework delineated above, I will be summing up the main research question at the heart of this thesis like so:
What is the social impact of the COVID-19 pandemic and implemented protective measures for the population of Sri Lanka?
My sub-questions are:
1. How did the pandemic affect the Sri Lankan minorities socially? What are the lived experiences of the Muslim, Plantation Tamil and Indigenous minorities? 2. How has Ayurveda been used during the pandemic, both by medical
3. How do religions and spiritual values and ideologies shape the understanding and experience of the pandemic? Can spirituality be used as a coping
mechanism during a health emergency?
Hence, the main aim of this research is to gain a deeper understanding of the different experiences, viewpoints, attitudes and behaviours of the Sri Lankan population during this health emergency. Τhis thesis is part of a larger debate about how societies and different communities within them react and perceive global health threats, as are pandemics, on a local level.
CHAPTER 1: MINORITIES IN SRI LANKA AND
COVID-19
In this chapter I will be examining how the COVID-19 pandemic has affected minorities in Sri Lanka in a practical, social and financial way. Following a brief outline regarding the history and current status of minorities in the island, I will be presenting three ethnographical examples; three case studies on the indigenous (Vedda), Muslim and Plantation Tamil (Hindu) populations of the country and the social impact of the pandemic and lockdown on their communities. Through this, issues of social
pre-existingthird-largest social problems and disadvantages can be exacerbated during a period of crisis. Finally, I will be presenting models of resilience and solidarity
initiatives and networks, as I observed and documented them during my fieldwork.
OVERVIEW OF MINORITIES IN SRI LANKA
The majority of the population in the country is Sinhalese (almost 80%), while the 4
largest minority are the Tamils (11%), mainly residing in the northern and eastern parts of the island. There are also Indian Tamils, brought over by the British during the 19th century as tea plantation workers, comprising today around 4% of the population. The third largest ethnic groups are the Moors (often referred to as just Muslims), who are descendants of Arab traders (10%). Other smaller minorities include Malays, Burghers (descendants of European colonists), ethnic Chinese migrants, Gypsy people , and 5
more.
When it comes to religions, Sri Lanka is a multi-faith society and freedom of religion is guaranteed by the country's constitution, although Buddhism is prioritized . The majority 6
of the population are Buddhists (more than 70%, mostly Sinhalese). Hindus make up 12.6% of the population and are mainly Tamils. Almost 10% of the country is Muslim, while there also exists a Christian minority (7.6%, mainly Catholics but also some
4 Demographic data according to a 2012 census 5 The term “Roma” or “Romani” is not used in Sri Lanka
Presbyterians). The forest/Sinhalized Veddas are animistic, with minor Buddhist influences, while the coast/Tamilized Veddas are mainly Hindu.
MAJORITARIANISM IN SRI LANKA: THE CIVIL WAR
Despite Sri Lanka being a multi-ethnic and multirecognisedIslamiccultural nation, ethnic tension and discrimination have been present for centuries, affecting each minority differently. The beginning of ethnic strains in Sri Lanka can be traced back to the colonial period. The British supported the Hindu Tamil minority in Sri Lanka to govern over the Buddhist Sinhalese majority. Once Sri Lanka gained its autonomy, the Sinhalese attempted to seize control from the Tamils, by recognizing Sinhalese as the only official language and giving special protection to
Buddhism, according to the constitution. Tamil residents were also discriminated against when applying to jobs and universities, which soon led to a lot of them growing weary of the lack of equal opportunities and treatment, while also feeling that their language and culture’s
perseverance was being put in danger in a systematic and methodical way by the Sri Lankan state. This tumultuous situation eventually culminated in a 26-year-long civil war (1983-2009), during which the Tamils, led by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), fought to create an independent Tamil nation. The tactics employed by the LTTE against the government’s actions, resulted in their being recognized as a terrorist organisation by 32 countries. The Sri Lankan government and its forces have likewise been accused of multiple war crimes, including human rights violations and abuse, disregard for habeas corpus, systemic genocide as part of the ethnic cleansing, rapes, and forced relocations and disappearances. This bloody civil war came to an end in May 2009 with the Sri Lankan government defeating the LTTE. It is estimated that
more than 100,000 people lost their lives, while some independent sources estimate the death toll may have been as high as 200,000 people.
SRI LANKAN MOORS AND MUSLIMS
In Sri Lanka there exist three main ethnic groups of Muslims: Sri Lankan Moors, Indian Moors and Malay Moors. Although originally the word Moor referred to Muslims hailing from the region of Maghreb (initially of Berber descent, but later on also used for Arabs), in Sri Lanka the word has been used since the Portuguese colonization era to describe Muslims in general. The Sri Lankan Moors trace their ancestry back to the Arab traders that first arrived on the island during the 9th century and intermarried with local women. Through the years, the Sri Lankan Muslims have incorporated Sinhalese and Tamil characteristics to their islamic traditions and lifestyles. During the last few years, a rise in interest among the Muslim communities has become
apparent regarding a re-discovery of their Arab roots and heritage, which can be illustrated, for example, by the fact that a lot of Muslims have strayed away from wearing traditional Sinhalese and Tamil clothing, as in the case of the sari. Initially, they spoke Tamil with some Arabic influences, but as of late, many of them have begun speaking Sinhala too.
The first noticeable wave of islamophobia began to emerge shortly after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. This ethnic and religious tension only grew stronger in 2014, when Buddhist extremist groups clashed with Muslim communities residing in the south. One of the most prominent Buddhist groups with an anti-muslim rhetoric is the Bodu Bala Sena (BBS). The government's efforts to bring justice and peace to the communities affected and to put an end to similar
extremist organizations have been, by all accounts, ineffective at best. In 2018, violence erupted once more, with clashes breaking out between Buddhist nationalists and Muslims in the central region of the country.
The situation escalated after the coordinated Easter Sunday Bombings in 2019, that took the lives of 257 people. Responsibility for the attacks was later claimed by a small Islamic armed group, with connections to the Islamic State. The bombings marked one of the darkest moments of Sri Lanka’s recent history . The country is still in the process of coping with the catastrophic 7
event, and the memories are still fresh and painful... This, in turn, initiated a series of “violence and hate” against Muslims by Sinhalese nationalists, although the terrorist attacks targeted 8
both local as well as foreign Christians Therefore, while the bombings did not directly target the Sinhala population, Buddhist politicians, organisations and monks have unabashedly called for the boycotting of Muslims (Barakat 2019). In fact, even the Finance Minister encouraged
Buddhists to join the fight against what he described as the "Talibanisation" of the country (Syed 2019).
Incidents of violence against Muslims following the 2019 bombings have taken place in Kurunegala, Kuliyapitiya and Minuwangoda among other places. At least 30 mosques and Quranic schools, 50 Muslim-owned shops and more than 100 houses have been attacked by Buddhist nationalists, actions that -as stated above- have often had even the support of Buddhist monks. The growing islamophobic discourse and anti-muslim sentiment on behalf of
7 In my participants and informants discourse the bombings were mentioned together with the tsunami
and the civil war as the most tragic events in the recent history for the country
certain segments of the population and the political arena would also affect the treatment of Muslims during the COVID-19 pandemic, as it will be examined below.
MUSLIM MINORITY DURING THE PANDEMIC
Sri Lanka initially agreed on burials for COVID-19 victimsbut amended the relevant guidelines later on. More specifically, on March 31st, a Muslim victim of COVID-19 was cremated in Negombo, against the family’s wishes. On April 11, cremations were made compulsory and exclusive, not only for COVID-19 victims, but also for suspected victims. According to Muslims, this decision deprives them of their basic religious rights, as it goes against their Islamic
traditions regarding the burial of their dead. In addition, these measures also play upon the idea that Muslim practices and tradition represent a threat to the nation; in this case, aiding the spread of the virus. To truly understand why such a measure is infringing on the fundamental rights of Muslims, we must take a look at Islam’s principles as well as the religious duties that inform their rituals. “Islam has at its heart the sanctity of life and honouring the dead is an
extension of that sanctity. There are four duties that Muslims are obligated to perform upon the passing away of a fellow Muslim; they are to wash the body, shroud it with clean sheets, perform the funeral prayer even if only with a few people, and provide a dignified burial”, explains journalist Shereena Qazi (Qazi 2020). Once the modes of transmission of the COVID-19 virus became known and publicized,, Muslims all over the world agreed to give up two of their collective obligations when it comes to burial rituals, namely the washing and shrouding of the body, following scientific evidence and guidelines. However, there exists no
scientific evidence to back up the idea that burials increase the transmission rate of the disease. In fact, the WHO has debunked such theories . Following this, numerous countries across the 9
globe, from the USA to Africa and from the Middle East to Europe, have proceeded to allow for burials, following, of course, strict prevention guidelines (Harees 2020).
The Sri Lankan government has yet to explain their decision to not adhere to the WHO’s
guidelines regarding burials, something which has sparked controversy and heavy criticism from both local as well as international organizations. UN special reports on freedom of religion or belief, have called the government to review this decision, stating that “we are concerned of the
lack of consideration provided and the lack of sensitivity in the Ministry of Health Guidelines, to different communities and their religious and cultural practices” . Additionally, Amnesty 10
International, as well as the Human Rights Watch (HRW) have criticized this decision and have pleaded with the Sri Lankan government to retract it. As of today, such calls have been ignored and the government continues its mandatory cremation policy. The case of Zubair Fathima Rinosa in Colombo gained national recognition. Her family was demanding justice after her body was cremated, only to later be proven that she did not even die from the coronavirus. Her husband later stated “I can accept someday that she is gone, but not that she was cremated”.
Social scientist and activist Harini Amarasuriya has further criticized the local media’s fixation on Muslims during the pandemic, with “daily reporting on COVID-19 rates of infection among Muslim
communities” that leads to racial profiling. In the meantime, rumours started spreading that Muslims lifestyle, for example, their habits of socializing heavily and of family members mostly living all under
9 According to the WHO report on Infection Prevention and Control for the safe management
of a dead body in the context of COVID-19
10 A copy of the letter can be found here
the same roof, pose deliberate risks to public health. While it is true that many Muslim households are over-crowded, making social distancing impossible and indeed heightening the risk of
transmission, these types of rumours fail to take into consideration the poverty conditions that lead Muslim families (and other minorities) to lead such lives. Amarasuriya claims that such a decision was not taken by the Ministry of Health in order to protect the public health, but rather in order to “teach Muslims a lesson”. This was made apparent when a conversation between a TV show host and his panellists (including a government minister as well as representatives from other political parties) leaked. In this conversation, the issue of burials was brought up with the participants
agreeing that the reason for the ban on burials was indeed “to teach the Muslim community that they
must follow rules – that they cannot have their own way” (Amarasuriya 2020; Amnesty Inernational 2020).
There has been a noticeable rise in the circulation and propagation of conspiracy theories connecting Muslims to the intentional spread of the virus, ever since the outbreak of the pandemic in Sri Lanka, something that can also be identified in the discourse used by the media. For example, Dr Channa Perera, consultant forensic pathologist and a member of the Ministry of Health, mentioned in an interview with BBC that "the government has nothing against
Muslims, but they have a small fear about whether the virus can be used for unauthorised activities. Maybe an unwanted person could get access to a body, and it could be used as a biological weapon". Such sentiments create a basis for division and bigotry that harbours,the potential of further fueling anti-muslim ideologies not only during the pandemic. The ban on burials has, therefore, brought to light the targeting of Muslims and the acts of racial profiling perpetrated by the state.
FINDINGS
In this part of the chapter I will be presenting my findings, as they were obtained through the process of interviewing three Muslim participants as well as through informal conversations with them, the later taking part throughout my fieldwork. I will also document some of the discourse regarding Muslims and the pandemic from members of the Sinhalese majority, as I observed them during my stay in Sri Lanka. My goal is, therefore, to capture and present the views, opinions and experiences of the Muslim minority during the pandemic, when it comes to issues of structural violence and discrimination, while noting that the sample size represented here is small, and the views expressed by the subjects of my interviews are not enough to paint a crystal clear picture of the situation as a whole. However, they may serve as a starting point for a discussion on how pre-existing social inequalities can adversely affect the lives of
marginalised groups in times of crisis.
During my discussions and interviews with the Muslim participants, a general feeling of distrust towards the government became apparent, accompanied by fears and concerns regarding their future and cultural survival. They all made one thing clear; the burial ban’s purpose was to specifically target their population, and it wasn’t something that came out of the blue.
“Yes, I am aware of that. I imagine such measures steam from some sort of islamophobia after
the terrorist attacks last year”, I said during a meeting with one of my participants. “You know
what, not exactly. The islamophobia didn’t start after the terrorist attacks; it already existed before in the country. It’s just that after the bombings the blaming of Muslim communities
became obvious, and the hate got out of control. But no, it didn’t start last year”, he answered. He proceeded to bring up examples of pogroms and physical attacks against Muslims carried out by Buddhist nationalists. Then he mentioned certain informal campaigns and propaganda that prompted people to boycott Muslim businesses during the pandemic. “Sometimes they will
clearly say ‘don’t buy from Muslims, don’t support them with your money’ other times they will say ‘don’t eat at this restaurant because it belongs to Muslims and they are dirty, you may get the corona here”.
“Let’s make this clear. We don’t have a problem with Buddhists, and most of them don’t have a problem with us. Anti-muslim Buddhists are a very small minority. The problem is political; it’s the state that creates division”. Said another participant during an interview. When asked why does he think this happens, he said “For one they want to punish all of us for what happened.
Or perhaps they want to show the world that such terrorist attacks won’t happen again. At the end of the day, the goal (of the government) is to be likeable to the majority so they can win
votes.”. This is something that all three participants seemed to highlight. Another participant told me “They are punishing us because we didn’t vote for this government, but the majority
supported it. So they don’t care about us, they care to make the Buddhist voters happy”. The concept of punishment was recurring during all of my interviews and conversations with them, which brings to mind the leaked video and the talk about “giving them a lesson”. “Isn’t it funny
how the terrorists targeted only Christians, which would explain the Christians to hate us more than the Buddhists? Yet the Christians can understand that such terrorist actions don’t
represent Muslims in general. How come Christians don’t make our lives hard? It’s because this is all about us not supporting the government with our votes, and not just about the bombings. It’s all a political game”.
“And you know, being anti-muslim or living in an anti-muslim political environment doesn’t mean
that, oh, you will get attacked on the street or they will call you a name. That may happen in the ghetto. Racism is also when you find it harder to get a job or a promotion because you’re
Muslim or when your colleague talks bad about you -and that has happened to me- I specifically know someone in the office who has talked bad about me, so I don’t get a promotion”. Similarly, in another interview,, the participant said about structural islamophobia “Sometimes it’s not just
people attacking us. Sometimes the problem is that the media don’t report it or that the government doesn’t do anything”. The above statements perfectly describe the essence of structural violence, in this case structural islamophobia, which is often manifested by legislations that target Muslim communities. Such is the ban on burials or the racial profiling on the media, legalizing pre-existing bias and discrimination. Structural racism and islamophobia create a divisive situation, making the Muslim minority the foreign “Other”.
“Especially during the beginning of the pandemic they wanted to make it seem like the Muslims
are dirtier, and they get the virus more than the rest”. In fact this was a rumour that I had heard since my first days in the country. I had also heard about the Muslims “inevitably contracting the
virus because they can’t social distance” referring to their housing conditions. Another account was when I was advised to not eat in a Muslim restaurant because they were “too dirty, didn’t
you notice?”. Theories and sentiments like the above seem to paint a picture about
“Muslimness” which is informed by harmful stereotypes, especially in contrast with the Buddhist, Sinhalese majority. This ideology makes illness and disease seem like inevitable consequences of that supposed “Muslimness”. As mentioned before, this view skims over the practical issues that these people face, for example, the fact that oftentimes families share a house or even a
room because of their poor financial state and not necessarily because of some tradition or disregard for the guidelines. The point, however, is that such ideas seem to cement
islamophobic notions and claims that Islam is a threat to the Sri Lankan society, by deliberately connecting their lifestyle and habits to the COVID-19 disease.
PLANTATION TAMILS
The plantation Tamils, also known as Indian Tamils, Hill Country Tamils and Up-Country Tamils should not be confused with the Sri Lankan Tamils. They are descended from South India, where, during the 19th and 20th century, the British rulers forcefully relocated them to Sri Lanka as bonded labourers in order to work at tea, coffee, coconut and rubber plantations (de Silva 1981; 2005). They reside in the central highlands, on or near tea estates where they work and are one of the most marginalized and neglected ethnic groups in the country .11 It wasn’t until the
60s that the first Indian Tamils were given Sri Lankan citizenship, a task that wasn’t finalized until the 90s, while some of them did not get citizenship until 2003 (de Silva 2005; Kingsbury 2013). Even today, over 200,000 Indian Tamils still have problems with documentation, since many lost their documents in the ethnic riots. Several thousand do not even have national identity cards (NICs), which has led to arrests and detention. According to a report by the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination “the lack of basic documentation affects
their ability to seek proper employment, own property, benefit from social security, vote and open a bank account”.
11 The Economist. (2017, September 28). A subset of Tamils lags other Sri Lankans by almost every
Their financial status has always been one of the lowest in the country ever since their arrival in Sri Lanka. They have been facing institutionalized violence, social isolation and marginalization since the beginning; they have been confined into ghettos and being linguistically and culturally disadvantaged, not speaking Sinhala, which for years was the country’s official language, everyday life for them is an uphill struggle. As bonded labourers, they did not have any rights,economic and their survival hinged quite literally on the whims of their employers and plantation owners. During the 40s they were radicalized, teaming up with the country's Trotskyist Party (LSS), and thus commenced their fight for liberation and working rights. Sri Lanka’s liberation from the British and its independence in 1948 did not do much to stop the Indian Tamils’ exploitation. During the first elections, the LSS ended up losing to the United National Party (UNP). The UNP systematically tried to weaken leftist groups and organizations, who were supported by Indian Tamils ( Radhakrishnan 2008). For this reason, the government passed the Ceylon Citizenship Act that legally disenfranchised the Tamils, so they could not vote any longer. Ever since then, the plantation Tamils have been the most deprived ethnic group in the country on a social, economical and political level (Radhakrishnan 2008).
In 1964, through the Sirimavo-Shastri Pact, and in 1974 through the Sirimavo-Indira Gandhi Pact, India agreed to grant citizenship to 600,000 Indian Tamils, whereas Colombo agreed to grant citizenship upon 400,000 of them. “The Indian Tamils were reduced to the status of
merchandise to be divided between Colombo and New Delhi in the name of 'good neighbourly relations’”, as Suryanarayan very accurately described their disadvantaged situation (2001). Although plantation Tamils were not directly involved in the civil war, because of their Tamil origin,,, they faced similar human rights violations to Sri Lankan Tamils. 12
It is also worth noting that, there exist no “brotherly” feelings of compatriotism between Sri Lankan Tamils and Indian Tamils, given the fact that the latter belong to the lowest caste, according to the orthodox Hindu social order. This has created a chasm between the two ethnic groups of Tamils in the country. Additionally, Indian Tamils follow a mixture of Hinduism and folk religion. These factors have led to a debate within their community regarding their ethnic and cultural identity, as well as the name by which they should call themselves. Highland Indian Tamils working in plantations prefer the terms “Plantation Tamils” or “Up-hill Tamils”, as they feel that the word “Indian” and any connection to India further alienates them from Sri Lanka. However, members of this ethnic group who have moved from the highlands to the big cities and do not work as plantation workers, prefer the term “Indian Tamils” instead. Because my interviews took place in the central highlands of the country, I will be referring to them as Plantation Tamils from this point forward.
At this point, we should also delve deeper into the gender, financial and social stressors that are indicative of the Plantation Tamils’ situation. With tea being one of the most important financial sources both for local consumption as well as for export, amounting to 2% of Sri Lanka’s GDP, plantation workers have been on the frontline during the pandemic. 95% of the women working in plantations are tea-pickers, meaning they have to pluck the tender tea leaves out of the bushes and later carry them in brackets or sheets to the factory so they can be processed in brown tea (Jegathesan 2019). As will become readily apparent from the examples mentioned below, even though female plantation workers are essential for the Sri Lankan economy, they have been methodically marginalized and ignored, remaining underpaid and neglected. Despite winning the right to equal wages in 1984, women continue to face gendered violence and
