
A prominent member of the Sri Lankan cricket team once confessed to friends that his greatest fear was being declared Man of the Match because he would then have to face Ian Chappell for the customary television interview in English.
His dilemma is one that is being faced by hundreds of thousands of Sri Lankan youths who have become victims of the 1956 Sinhala Only8217; policy implemented by short-sighted leaders who saw in it an opportunity for political gain in a situation of worsening ethnic tensions.
Since then, English medium education has been illegal in Sri Lankan schools. From the moment Sri Lankan children enter school, they are taught in their mother-tongue either Sinhala or Tamil 8212; but once they step out, be it into university or employment, they discover they lack basic communication skills in a world that moves on English.
This should perhaps teach lessons for those advocating similar education in India that the problem has become so acute in Sri Lanka that President Chandrika Kumaratunga8217;sGovernment is now making an attempt to modify this stern policy.
There is now a proposal to 8220;introduce8221; English in grade one, which at present is taught to students as a subject only from grade three. Last week, the proposal was implemented on an experimental basis in schools in Gampaha, the President8217;s home district.
However, the teaching of English in schools is badly neglected and consequently so sub-standard that Sri Lankans do not believe this nominal change to be an answer to their problem. They are now urgently resorting to learning it at 8220;tutories8221; or private coaching classes, dozens of which have sprung up in every little town, suburb and village in the country.
Their sheer number evades estimates, but every year about 8,000 students inhale the rarefied air of the British Council, paying about Rs 11,000 8212; more than a senior civil servant8217;s monthly salary 8212; for a two-and-a-half months8217; course in English. 8220;International8221; schools, the only kind where English is allowed as a medium, arealso proliferating because of the demand for the language.
8220;We have created a situation where Sri Lankans are so desperate for English that they are prepared to pay inflated amounts outside for what they could actually learn in school,8221; says Rajiva Wijesinhe, writer and professor of languages at the University of Sabaragamuwa.
School education is free in Sri Lanka but people prefer to pay separately to learn English. It is so much the lingua franca of commerce here that business firms and other employers have made it clear they cannot hire a person who is unable to communicate in the language. Those without English are not only cut-off from higher levels of employment, but also from higher education. University courses are taught in Sinhala or Tamil but those gaining admission must undergo six months of intensive coaching in the language which is often not enough to enable them to use reference books. And the Sinhala publishing industry is not large enough to provide ready translations of suchbooks.
8220;Students entering our universities are unable to read the books prescribed for their course. As a result they are dependent on lecture notes which is a level of education not worthy of being called a university education. It8217;s a tremendous handicap,8221; says noted writer Reggie Siriwardene.
In fact, the consequences of the language policy have been the exact opposite of what the majority community believed it would get out of it. What was a ploy to deny opportunities to the minority has turned inward on the Sinhala community, sharpening the lines between the rich and the poor. Of course, in the process, it also accentuated the ethnic divide.
When Sinhala was made the medium of instruction in schools in 1956 by the Official Languages Act, an illusion was created that by doing away with English and making Sinhala the sole official language, there would be more equality of opportunities, if only for the Sinhalese majority.
English medium schools had to wind up and it was only two years later,after vehement protests by leaders of the minority community, that Tamil was allowed as a medium of education in 1958.
However, English did not disappear as some mistakenly believed. Instead it became the language of the elites, of the top layers of government and business, especially after the opening up of the economy in 1977. Children who speak it at home as a 8220;first language8221; grow up with the confidence that doors will always open to them, though they may attend swabhasha schools. 8220;International8221; schools have been allowed to come up and the rich send their sons and daughters to these for a headstart in life.
In the 8217;70s, the divide was so sharp that in university slang, English was known as kaduwa, Sinhalese for sword, a weapon that the elites used to cut-down the masses. Language, or the lack of the right one, fuelled the deep resentment of youth who felt left out of the system and boiled over into the two JVP insurrections of 1971 and 1987-89.
Another consequence of the policy is that itcontributed to the perpetuation of the ethnic divide. Even in cosmopolitan regions like Colombo or Kandy, from the moment children embark on an education, they are segregated into Sinhalese and Tamil sections in the same school.
A child of one community can spend 15-18 years of his or her life not knowing one from another community. Even English, which is taught as the second language in all schools, is taught separately to Sinhalese and Tamils studying in the same school, contributing to the gulf between the two groups.
Today, academicians and those advocating educational reform are divided on whether English medium education should be made legal enabling it to become a link language between the two communities, or whether the Government should concentrate on raising standards of English within the existing system. What is clear is the overwhelming demand amongst the people for English education, and the belated recognition in government that the Official Languages Act was a bad mistake. There is alsothe realisation that it could take several more years, maybe generations, and much political courage to rectify the blunder of 1956.