This is not your land and you are not our king.

 

Dr. Thevanayagam Thevananth

In the past few months, incidents in two parliaments have drawn the attention of the world.

Last October, King Charles of Britain visited Australia, where he remains the constitutional head of state. On the second day of his visit, while addressing the Australian Parliament, an independent senator exclaimed, "You are not my king." Lydia Thorpe, representing the Aboriginal people of Australia, made this statement. However, security personnel escorted her out of the premises.

The senator, representing Australia’s Indigenous population, protested by declaring, “This is not your land; you are not our king,” and accused Britain of genocide against Indigenous Australians. She later told the BBC that her intention was to send a clear message to King Charles. She remarked, “If you are to remain as head of state, you must belong to this land. The King is not of this land. His ancestors were perpetrators of genocide, involved in widespread massacres.”

Following this event, debates about the republic intensified in Australia. Notably, during her protest, the senator wore traditional attire made from the skins of her Indigenous ancestors, which was deemed unconventional for parliamentary norms.

Similarly, in November, a New Zealand parliament member protested by dancing in the parliamentary chamber. This unique form of dissent drew attention to both the individual and the issue being protested.

This incident occurred during a vote on a controversial bill aimed at amending a 184-year-old treaty. An Indigenous member of parliament, dressed in traditional attire, danced to register their opposition. Other parliament members joined in song and dance during this protest. While unconventional, this event highlighted dissent against legislation feared to endanger Indigenous rights.

In both incidents, the protests symbolized the voice of Indigenous people’s rights to their native land. Both individuals used their language, culture, and art to underscore their identity during their protests.

The cry against King Charles carried profound significance, echoing centuries of unresolved grief: "You committed genocide against my ancestors. You are not Indigenous to this land; therefore, you cannot be my king." This poignant outcry resonated as a voice against the British monarchy’s legacy, shaking not just the King but also his nation and the world. It symbolized an enduring demand for accountability for historical injustices.

In this backdrop, Sri Lanka’s Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP)-led government is holding its inaugural parliamentary sessions. The actions of Tamil representatives from the northern and eastern provinces must be closely scrutinized in this context.

While the above two incidents showcased a careful assertion of identity, Tamil representatives in Sri Lanka seem to lack similar advocacy. They should ideally be voicing Tamil identity, culture, and language for their people. However, this scenario appears disappointing.

A few Tamil MPs are multilingual, which should be a matter of pride. However, parliament is not merely a platform to showcase linguistic skills. For example, a newly elected MP from Jaffna began his maiden speech with greetings in three languages and then translated his speech into Sinhala and English himself. This self-translation left him with insufficient time to address substantive issues. A similar approach was seen from an MP from Batticaloa, who translated his speech mid-way.

Moreover, MPs who appeared in traditional attire during election campaigns now appear in Western suits and ties in parliament. They meticulously present themselves as fluent English speakers following Western cultural norms, seemingly disconnecting from the very people they represent.

Parliamentarians must remember whom they are in parliament for. Speaking in English for accessibility is understandable, but assuming that all MPs are proficient in English is unrealistic.

Tamil representatives, who belong to a community that has faced oppression, marginalization, and genocide, must speak up for solutions with a clear Tamil identity. Yet, this intent seems absent.

The attachment to Tamil language and culture, representing the emotional and cultural ties to their community, is noticeably lacking among Tamil MPs.