5: nationalizing ceylon: nationalist and socialist responses to colonial spaces

123

5Nationalizing Space:

Nationalist and Socialist Transformationsof Sri Lanka

Adaptations to the colonial society and space in Ceylon, discussed in the

previous chapter, were complemented by challenges to the colonial system, and

these became most visible from the 1930s. In this chapter I explore the spatial

constitution of these challenges, particularly by the socialists and nationalists,

whose politics were dominant in the national political arena between the mid-1950s

and the1970s. I also investigate a new development in the field of architecture,

critical vernacularism, which also became prominent in the 1970s. As colonialism

and capitalism are worldwide phenomena, the challenges to these also cause global

effects. It is within, and as part of, this context that Sri Lankan challenges to both

these systems are investigated.

Anti-Systemic Movements and the World-Wide System of States

With the stepping up of socialist and independence struggles in the 1910s and

1920s, the movements going against the grain of the system, anti-systemic

movements, expanded both in number and in their sphere of influence, posing a

formidable threat to the world-society and space centered upon western Europe.

The powerful image of the European states was greatly weakened by the Japanese

defeat of Russia in 1904-5 and also, during two world wars, by the specter of “white

men killing each other by the most horrific means scientific minds could devise.”1

The Second World War also provided the conjuncture in which colonial controls

became weaker than they had ever been. This context provided the opportunity for2

the culmination of anti-colonial struggles.

As discussed previously, Ceylon’s alternative to being a colony was restricted

to becoming a member of the system of so-called sovereign states. This world-wide

system of states was, however, not the inevitable outcome of the colonized societies

gaining self-determinancy but the one that was swiftly fixed by the core states. As

124 Nationalizing Space

Gellner has argued, “Nations are not inscribed into the nature of things, they do not

constitute a political version of the doctrine of the natural kinds. Nor were national

states the manifest ultimate destiny of ethnic or cultural groups.” The system of3

nation-states was legitimated through the construction of world organizations,

particularly, the United Nations Organization and its predecessor, the League of

Nations. These organizations were, however, created prior to most of the states in

the periphery. Instead of post-colonial states participating in the production of a

system of states, or an alternative to the modern state, they were recruited into pre-

constructed positions. Independence was, therefore, a controlled process, best

defined as decolonization. In this sense, the Euro-US construction of a world-wide

interstate system has been the continuation of the European (and the American)

bourgeoisie creating a world after its own image--as Marx once said.4

This new polity represents a particular compartmentalization of the world into

states, reducing these to knowable, manageable, and controllable territorial units

represented as a politically homogeneous jig-saw puzzle. The far-reaching

hegemony such notion has achieved is exemplified by the constant effort of the

Peoples Republic of China to join the United Nations, especially since it was not

only marginal in the west European system but also claimed to be breaking away

from the capitalist world.

Beyond their representation as equal, these states have not been equal in any

sense. According to Jackson, what the states in general “received” was a “negative

sovereignty,” the power to act within a particular territory, supposedly unobstructed

by other states. Yet west European states possessed “positive sovereignty” that5

went beyond the boundaries of the state, and they employed it relentlessly over the

extra-European peoples. Moreover, the contemporaneous development of

international organizations and transnational corporations has created an extensive

and dense network of pecuniary and non-pecuniary exchanges which no single state

can control unilaterally and, more importantly, from which no state can attempt to

“delink” except at exorbitant costs.6

This worldview also regulated the objectives of independence movements, for

which prospective states were largely “given”--or taken for granted--within colonial

states, or simply left by them, for example, Siam (now Thailand). Independence

was, therefore, a paradoxical situation of recruiting subjects to these already given

states, and at the same time attempting to construct a “nation.” Hence, the new

system of states established at the end of the principal European colonial era

produced another wave of dehistoricization and defamiliarization of space for the

extra-European peoples. Ethnic rivalry and separatism, addressed below, are

manifestations of the disorientation among “post-colonial” peoples brought about

through this defamiliarization of space.

The Bolshevik victory in what became the Soviet Union had become a principal

source of inspiration for both working class and nationalist movements. Yet the

core capitalist powers had managed the communist challenge to the system by

incorporating and institutionalizing it into a duality, the so-called Cold War. The

overdetermination of this duality between the 1950s and 1980s compelled every

Nationalizing Space 125

political movement to identify with and be conditioned by either the US model of

“democracy,” or the Soviet model of “communism,” suppressing any political space

outside this duopoly.

The hegemone, the United States, also opted to reorganize the world-economy.

The US interest was in dissolving the protectionism of imperial powers and in

improving exchanges, a primary means of which was the Bretton Woods Agreement

of 1944. This agreement provided for the increased flow of currency across

national boundaries, especially US Dollars, making the transfer of “values” and

capital accumulation in the core, particularly in the United States, smoother than

ever before. Moreover, two basic institutions, the International Monetary Fund and

the World Bank, were also founded in this process; the first was mainly responsible

for the stabilization of exchange and the maintenance of international financial

discipline and the latter, for rebuilding the economies of “undeveloped” countries.7

Nonetheless, the “post-colonial,” post-War world was much more diverse and

fragmented, not only in regard to the number of political centers, but also the

meaning of these centers. This process of multiplication of political centers and

their particular groupings, in addition to the capitalist-communist duality, is evident

in the emergence of “third forces,” for example, the Non-Aligned Movement,

regional cooperations like pan-Arabism and pan-Africanism, alternative centers of

communism such as the Peoples Republic of China, and multiple ethnic and

religious centers, some later resorting to so-called “fundamentalism.” These “third

models” were, however, ambivalent, largely because, on the one hand, they

challenged the existing political order, yet on the other hand, they were organized

and derived their meanings from the Cold War and the inter-state system.

Nonetheless, they represented the incompleteness of the US-USSR duality.

In this sense, if the Iberian expansion of the late fifteenth century, in effect, had

the potential towards the homogenizing of world-space, from about the 1880s, that

same world-space had begun to fragment. This became evident in every

restructuring of the world-space, especially in the 1940s and, again, in the 1980s.

The political space of the world after the 1940s was to be constituted of a complex

combination of capitalist-core, semi-periphery, and periphery; metropoles, colonial

states, colonies; “democratic,” “communist,” non-aligned, and later fundamentalist

states, and many other forms intertwined and interacting with each other. If

imperial city structures connected colonial port cities to their respective metropole,

the independence of a large number of societies not only multiplied the centers of

political power, but also diversified the inter-city relationships.

Cultural Challenges to Colonialism

Before any political party, the Buddhist establishment had been a principal

challenger of colonialism and had also provided the inspiration for such challenges.

Its survival and continuity, however, required the restructuring of its institutions and

practices. According to Malalgoda, these transformations did not affect the

essential doctrinal ideals of Theravada Buddhism in any significant way. Hence,8


what we see here is a particular continuity and change. In this section, I examine

the spatial impact of the restructuring of Buddhism as part of its struggle against and

survival under colonialism.

In the Low Country, the removal of the sangha from royal patronage began in

the sixteenth century with the conversion of the crown prince of Kotte, Dharmapala,

to Roman Catholicism, his transfer of Buddhist temple villages to the Franciscans

and, subsequently, the bequest of his kingdom to the King of Portugal after his

death. At the same time, keeping Buddhism alive, the King of Kandy warmly

received the Buddhist monks, bhikkus, who fled from the Portuguese-ruled areas

and endowed them with new temples and land grants. The British conquest of

Kandy deprived the sangha of any royal patronage. In addition, under three

colonial regimes, Buddhism was also subjected to competition from various forms

of Christianity which received the support of the colonial state.9

Changes in colonial state policy and the conflicts between different Christian

faiths had helped the Buddhists to reorganize their religious activities in the Low-

Country. The broad-based transformation of Buddhism and its organization that

took place in the late nineteenth century has been addressed by scholars such as

Gananath Obeyesekere, Kitsiri Malalgoda, and Richard Gombrich which need not

be repeated here. Obeyesekere argues that Buddhism was transformed in the late10

nineteenth century (1860-1885) into what he calls “Protestant Buddhism,” in regard

to its protest against British colonialism in general and Protestant Christian

missionaries in particular. This transformation was largely an urban phenomenon,

in which the Buddhist leadership became more socialized, blurring the former

distinction between the sangha and the laity. Malalgoda argues that the laity not

only became increasingly involved in religious activity but also, from the 1880s,

displaced monks from some of their traditional positions of religious leadership.11

The main outcome of the collapse of the Govigama (caste) monopoly of religious

life and the entry of non-Govigamas into religious activity was the expansion of the

religious sphere, including an increase in the number of sects, monks, as well as

temples.

The protest against colonialism and Christianity was also the process in which,

and for which, Buddhism acquired many Western Christian attributes. The

formation of a Buddhist Theosophical Society, invention of a flag, incorporation of

songs modelled on Christmas carols, sending of cards during Vesak celebrations,

organization of Sunday Schools and catechism classes, and the use of English are

some examples of this influence. The new Buddhist mission schools, sponsored by

the Buddhist Theosophical Society--founded by Olcott--and the Mahabodhi Society

--founded by Dharmapala--also adopted the model of Christian missionary public

schools, whether in regard to cricket or the curriculum.12

Spatially, these Christian and colonial influences are evident in making Colombo

the principal site for Buddhist protest activities. Although the southern city of Galle

was developing as the Buddhist center of the Low-Country in the eighteenth

century, a century later, Colombo and its vicinity had become the locus of Buddhist

organizational activity. This is evident in the reinforcing and revitalization of


FIGURE 5.1 The Buddhist landscape: Ruwanveliseya at Anuradhapura.

temples at Kotte and Kelaniya, both former Lankan seats of power close to

Colombo, the building of temples in Colombo itself, the establishment of

missionary schools, and the reinforcing of monastic educational institutions, piriven,

such as the Vidyalankaraya and Vidyodaya in the vicinity. The contest with

Christianity also provoked the establishment of their main printing presses,

publishing houses, and new organizations like the Society for the Propagation of

Buddhism, Mahabodhi Society, Young Mens Buddhist Association, and “mission”

Schools, such as Ananda in Colombo. Nonetheless, since Buddhism was not

privileged by the patronage of the political authority, its presence in Colombo was

not conspicuous.13

This surge in Buddhist activism in cities, and in the Low Country at large,

should not confuse the fact that Buddhism was largely operative in villages. The

sangha were overwhelmingly recruited from villages, and the villagers were more

closely acquainted with their local Buddhist monks. As in the process of protest in

which Buddhism acquired many Christian characteristics, in socializing its own

institutions Buddhism was also influenced by local beliefs and worldviews. This

was largely a rural phenomenon, where the expansion of Buddhism in villages made

the bhikkus engage in astrology, local medicinal systems (Ayurveda), traditional

approaches to designing and locating buildings (vastu vidya), and even in so-called

supernatural interventions, such as bali, thovil, and huniyam. As in missionary

activity, the temple became closely associated with the laity in particular areas

supporting not only their spiritual needs, but also aspects of day-to-day life. As in


the Christian organization of space in terms of parishes and dioceses, the temple

became the center of a particular group of dayakas who in turn supported it,

including the provision of food (dana) for monks.14

Transformations can also be seen at the level of households and dwellings. The

introduction of a place of worship as the prayer room, also introduced new divisions

between the sacred and profane into dwelling spaces. This was constructed through

the use of (Buddha) statues and pictures, the adding of another ritual of offering

flowers and food resembling the Christian offering of one tenth of produce to the

church. Moreover, rituals such as chanting pirith and alms giving in houses, in both

cases inviting bhikkus (priests) to one’s residence, also became institutionalized.

In addition to the restructuring of “national” as well as its own space, Buddhism

has also been a major contemporary source of historic built forms. Since key

temples formed a part of the former religio-royal landscape, their survival has

contributed to the partial continuity of historic Lankan built forms. (figure 5.1)

Moreover, as the center of education and knowledge, the temple has also been an

instrument for the survival of Lankan medicinal, astrological, and architectural

(vastu vidya) systems and practices. These also provided potential nodes for the

subversion of European cultural hegemony and the basing of nationalism.

Similar and comparable developments also occurred in other Buddhist societies,

particularly Burma, and in regard to other Asian religions, including Hinduism and

Islam, during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. According to Malalgoda,

changes in the “traditional” social and political order and competition from

Christian missions provided the common background for changes and revivals of

religions in those areas, and the Hindu revival in the mid-nineteenth century15

demonstrates developments similar to those of Buddhism.

Anti-Colonialist Conceptions of Ceylon

The early “nationalisms” that were more of a critique of colonialism, and which

emerged around the 1880s with religious revivals, were replaced by more

confrontational struggles in the 1920s and 1930s. Subsequent to the stepping up of

the Indian national struggles in the 1920s, south and south-east Asia gradually

developed into an anti-colonial battlefield. Drawing Ceylon into the spreading

arena of anti-colonialism, the active leadership of the Suriya Mal (Sunflower)

movement, organized in 1933, formed a political party, Lanka Sama Samaja Party

(LSSP, the party for social equality), in 1935. These socialists and the nationalists,

principally the Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP), formed in 1951, shared the view

that independence in 1948 was incomplete. From this perspective, the process of

independence continued until the 1970s.

The LSSP had two primary objectives: independence and socialism. Its impact

on national space was in the development of an island-wide anti-colonial sentiment

among the people; the transformation of prime capitalist spaces, particularly the

plantations, into a locus of anti-colonial struggle; and the drawing of “outlying

areas” and “marginalized subjects” into a future national arena. Since it was these


processes that finally produced “Sri Lanka” as an independent state, much more

than merely the name, I shall identify anti-colonial spaces as “Sri Lankan.”

Unlike its outcome, the national state, the struggle for Sri Lankan independence

was constructed through the articulation of widespread anti-colonial sentiments

against the colonial state of Ceylon. Just as trade unions of the European proletariat

corresponded to the production units (factories) and “trades” organized by capital,

this independence movement, which had been born within the colony, saw colonial

society and its territory as orthogenetic, i.e., natural or given. As most socialist

movements of the time, however, the LSSP’s spatial orientation was international.

Its internationalism largely lay in the Marxist slogan that attempted to unite the

working class against capitalism, across national frontiers, and a critique of the

Stalinist notion of socialism in one country. Although its objectives contested those

of the capitalist world-system, the international solidarity the Sama Samajists strove

to build was not explicitly directed at producing a single socialist world. The

international socialist revolution it conceived was to be carried out by socialist

parties at national level. More so than with any other political movement in Ceylon,

the Sama Samajists’ ambivalence towards the “inter-national” was more effective

in producing a “national space.” This was not, however, the outcome of supporting

the notion of the “national,” but was largely their ignorance of it.

What I am arguing here is that the nature of the society and space represented

by anti-colonial movements was not inevitable. For example, given the

international orientation of organizations like the LSSP, in theory, much broader

anti-colonial movements could have been organized within the Empire as the social

and spatial unit; given the working class orientation of many independence

movements, they could also have joined with the working classes of the metropole.

Yet historically, despite the sporadic occurrence of some alliances across colonial

boundaries, such as between Vietnamese and French Communist parties and the

LSSP cultivating relationships with leftist anti-colonial groups in India, none of

these developed into broad-based anti-imperial organizations. Yet the LSSP’s

increasing focus on the national political arena demonstrates the “naturalness” this

colonial territory and society had acquired.

Wallerstein points out that, in Europe, “it was the socialists who first and most

effectively integrated the “outlying” zones into their respective nation-states.” He16

refers here to the strength of the British Labour Party in Wales and Scotland, French

socialists in Octavia, and Italian socialists in the south. Without exception, the

LSSP was also instrumental in closely integrating marginalized areas and subjects

into the prospective national space of Ceylon. The Sama Samajists organized the

masses across ethnic, religious, and caste boundaries and had a special appeal for

the marginalized. Two forms of social consciousness were produced among such

groups. First was the consciousness of discrimination against these, especially

Sinhalese “low-castes.” Roberts suggests that supporting the LSSP also provided

the means to engage in caste and other conflicts. Second was the consciousness17

of being a part of the same society, and not outside it. This is demonstrated in the

confidence the LSSP gained as a national movement among the Tamils and, more


ardently, the plantation workers of Indian origin (officially, “Indian Tamils”).

Beginning with trade unions, the Sama Samajists transformed the plantation

workers into a significant political force in Ceylon in the 1940s, drawing the

plantation enclave into national space. Despite the deprivation of their citizenship

by the government of 1947, it was impossible thereafter to perceive plantation

workers as “alien.” The Sama Samaja Party, of which the first goal was national

independence, therefore, not only represented nationalist sentiment during this

phase, but also produced it, profoundly promoting the perception of Ceylon as a

“nation.”

Post-Colonial “Democracy” and Colombo’s Centrality

Lankan religious revivals of the late nineteenth century and the shifting of the

locus of independence struggles to the plantations in the 1940s obscured the

centrality of Colombo. Yet in the long run, Colombo’s political and spatial

centrality over the island also remained unchallenged, even by the socialists and

nationalists, until the 1970s. That political negotiations took place in Colombo,

which were hardly confrontational, indicates that those were carried out within a set

of rules that favored those who controlled Colombo.

The reliance on the “proletariat” in its struggle against capitalism made the

LSSP view capitalist spaces in Colombo and the plantations as the principal

potential sites of confrontation. They entered the plantations, creating a working

class--in regard to its consciousness--and organized plantation workers against both

British domination and capitalism right at the heart of the space that British capital

commanded. Struggles in the plantations in the 1940s, therefore, were an invitation

to the colonial regime, once again, to enter the opponents’ territory to settle the

disputes, as they did in their wars with Kandy.

Nonetheless, the timely British transfer of political power to the Ceylonese was

instrumental in transforming the locus of anti-colonial struggles from the plantations

to Colombo, and drawing the challengers’ attention to the task of capturing political

power in Colombo. This raises another significant issue concerning the difference

between the societies in the capitalist core and the periphery and the applicability

of discourses produced within core industrial states, particularly Marxism. In core

capitalist states, state power, command centers of capital, and a large concentration

of the working class tended to be concentrated in the principal cities. In Ceylon,

however, most of the working population was in agriculture, and the majority of the

working class was on the plantations. In 1911, Colombo had only 4.4% of the total

working population of the colony, but the population in the plantations was five

times that and about 40% of the working population was engaged in agriculture and

dispersed in the island. Despite having a strong electoral base in Kegalla and18

Kalutara Districts outside Colombo, however, the LSSP’s urban bias made it pay

more attention to the urban working class, and also to consider Colombo as their

center of organization.

With independence, Colombo’s role as the locus of political negotiations in


Ceylon was continued through a form of European political culture based on a

“Westminster” type of democracy. Representatives from electorates were sent out

to the House of Representatives in Colombo to govern the “nation” as well as to

negotiate issues concerning each individual electorate. The socialists who

questioned the premises of capitalist democracy, but who were ambivalent about

resorting to “armed struggle,” were drawn into the election process by their success

in elections, rather than failures. The hope of winning a future election was boosted

by the LSSP coming closer to forming a government in the elections for the first

parliament of independent Ceylon. By the 1970s, they were so deeply entrenched

in this position that some factions became quite interested in such European models

as “Eurocommunism.” The “success” of this imported system of European political

culture in Ceylon can be contrasted with its failure in many post-colonial countries

in Asia. According to Pandey, “Indonesia abandoned its democratic system in

1957, as did Thailand for the second time in the same year, Pakistan in 1958, and

Burma in 1962. Cambodia’s skeletal democracy collapsed in 1970. In 1972 the

Philippines came under martial law ...” Hence, the post-colonial locus of political19

power, for socialists, communists, capitalists, and elite alike, remained in Colombo.

Colombo’s significance was further reinforced by the somewhat balanced

strength of the two major political forces at independence, one led by the elite

United National Party, and the other by the socialist LSSP, later by the nationalist

Sri Lanka Freedom Party. The political culture developed during the transition, in

which the strength of political rivals in Ceylon was evenly balanced, prevented

either of these attempting to use excessive force of any sort against the other, or to

extinguish its rival. This can be contrasted with the political situation in India

where the Indian National Congress was so dominant that the Muslim League

resorted to a policy of separatism.20

The Parliamentary system also added a new dimension within the national

society and space, namely, the dividing of the country into electoral divisions.21

Here the electorate has become the organizational base for political parties and

voting patterns have constructed political identities through loyalty to particular

parties and allegiances for different leaderships. Electoral identities are more

complex than party loyalties since most successful candidates have drawn on the

support of villagers, through village-level leaders--religious, caste, business, or

otherwise--who delivered them blocks of votes. Despite periodic changes in voter22

loyalty, however, it is not difficult to see electoral identities. Moore documents the

pattern,

In all general elections since 1956, the UNP has generally been relatively secure inmost urban seats while the Marxist parties ... have continued at least until 1977 toform the main opposition to the UNP in much of the densely populated south westcoast. Sri Lankan Tamil electorates almost invariably return members of separateTamil parties. Thus the question of which of the major (Sinhalese) parties shouldtake power has mainly been decided in the Kandyan and Dry Zone Sinhalese

electorates.23


There has also been a particular urban-rural combination and tension in the

election process. Although every government appeared strong at the beginning of

its term, it has generally been the case for it to be crippled by a general strike,

mostly at the end of its term, and be defeated in the following election. This

process, mostly dominant until 1980, had its own tensions since the strikes were

staged by the urban working class and led by the socialist and communist parties;

the change of government was caused by the rural voters who favored the two major

Sinhalese parties and Tamil ones where Tamils were the majority. Spatial changes

brought about during this period were, therefore, dominated by the particular

alliance between the broadly defined nationalists and socialists.

In short, the reason why both political leaders and the people believed in the

“parliamentary system” lay in the early beginning of that system, the timely transfer

of political power by the British, the balance of political forces at the time of

transition, the relative absence of corruption in the electoral process, the relatively

“healthy” economy, and the lack of direct external manipulation. All these factors

contributed towards the process of people with various regional, ethnic, religious,

and communal identities and affiliations being transformed into “nationals,”

principally concerned with economic and social rather than ethnic issues and

considering Colombo their capital.

Nationalist-Socialist Construction of Sri Lanka

With the end of the post-colonial elite rule in 1956, Ceylon entered a twenty-

year period (1956-1977) in which governments were primarily led by the nationalist

Sri Lanka Freedom Party and supported by the socialists, particularly the Lanka

Sama Samaja Party, and the Communist Party. Since both nationalists and

socialists viewed the political independence of 1948 as incomplete, the 1956

government negotiated the withdrawal of the British military and the closing of their

military bases in Ceylon, and the United Front government (of the SLFP, LSSP, and

CP) that came to power in 1970 completed the political decolonization of Ceylon,

severing all constitutional and judicial authority retained in British hands. If the

colonial spaces were indigenized up to the mid-1950s, we might say these were

“nationalized” during the two following decades. By “nationalizing” I refer to the

transformation of the Ceylonese society and space from a “dominion”-like state into

the republic of Sri Lanka and to describe this period in which the state employed

nationalization of private enterprises as a key instrument to reorganize the economy.

International Orientation and National Identity

Non-alignment was a central aspect of post-colonial Sri Lankan identity. During

the Cold War period, most newly independent states not only resented being part

of this bi-polar political order, but also the idea of being identified with one or the

other camp. The active role of Sri Lanka in setting up the Non-Aligned Movement

was one such expression. In this context, rejecting the Cold War formation, the

nationalists and socialists advanced Sri Lanka into a leading Non-Aligned nation.24


The pro-British foreign policy of the UNP and the LSSP’s dominance over the

(pro-Moscow) Communists were instrumental in keeping both the “right” and the

“left” of Sri Lankan politics at a distance from both the USA and USSR. As the

most powerful state in the region and a leading member of the Non-Aligned

Movement, India had also been quite central in the construction of the non-aligned

position of Sri Lanka. India’s reluctance to accept the US presence in Sri Lanka25

could later be read into the Indo-Sri Lankan Peace Accord of 1987, which included

clauses directed at preventing the USA from establishing a naval base at

Trincomalee.

The differentiation from the Cold War diversified Sri Lanka’s political links

with the outer world. This is especially manifest in the immediate steps of the

United Front government which strengthened ties with China, broke relations with

Israel, recognized the Provisional Government of South Vietnam and began to look

towards Eastern Europe for technical assistance. In a larger world, Sri Lanka’s

activism in the Non-Aligned Movement has helped build direct links with many

states that rejected the Cold War duality, as well as maintain a balanced relationship

with the US and Soviet bloc countries. It also continued to be a member of the

Commonwealth. It is within these geo-political regions and boundaries that

independent Sri Lanka was reproduced in the 1950s through 1970s.

Economic Development

Prioritizing the economy over society and culture, and glorifying the particular

path taken by Western industrialized states, “economic development” became a

main policy objective for the so-called Third World from the 1950s. The World

Bank, for which societies were economies, was quick to provide these states with

the economic identity of “undeveloped” states, and extended its support to raise

their income per capita. This discourse was not only appealing for the nationalists,

but the Left did not offer any radically different alternative to this doctrine.

“Development” represented here is a disciplined one that should occur within

dominant social and political structures of the world-economy, without disrupting

the processes of capital accumulation in the United States, and the core states in

general. What was new here is that even those who defended the inevitability of

inequalities felt the need to argue that over time these inequalities would disappear,

or at least diminish considerably in scope. This discourse was therefore26

instrumental in the reproduction of the capitalist world-economy through the

building of a consensus among the leaders of the new states that “development” is

not only desirable, but also feasible within the extant socio-political structures.

Both Marxists and Liberals alike, however, implicitly and explicitly, drew on this

evolutionary model.

The focus, however, was on the appearance of progress that the West had made

and the primary model emulated by the post-colonial states was one of physical

growth and modernization of the landscape. According to Arndt, “In Western

countries, the tendency to think about economic development mainly as economic


growth was undoubtedly strengthened by the fact that in the post war decade

economic growth became a major objective of economic policy in the developed

countries and a major interest of economic theorists.” In regard to the United27

States, Logan and Molotch argue that the elite have used their consensus on growth

to eliminate any alternative vision of purpose of local government, or the meaning

of community. Moreover, the modernization of society and space, based on the28

absorption of Western science, technology, attitudes, and behavior, was also seen

as a necessary condition of economic growth. It is largely this strategy that is

institutionalized on a world-scale from the 1950s through the function of world-

scale growth, led by world organizations dedicated to the economic growth of the

Third World, especially the World Bank and the United Nations, trivializing

alternative economic--let alone social, political, and cultural--goals. Marking the

1970s as the “development decade,” the United Nations brought this discourse to

its peak.

As discussed above, for the elite, development lay in the expansion of

agricultural production, complementary to the plantations. Two main criticisms of

such a policy came very early from the socialists and nationalists. One

preoccupation of the two Sama Samajists of the Legislative Council in the 1930s

was to call for the industrializing of Ceylon. Even earlier, nationalists such as

Anagarika Dharmapala had raised the issue in the form of promoting a Sinhalese

industrialist class. For the lack of interest on the part of capital, nationalist

governments depended on the state to industrialize the nation. Marking a clear

break from the policies of the previous governments, that of 1956 took the initiative

in industrializing Sri Lanka, guided by an economic policy of import substitution

and industrialization. Propagating industrialism as well as industrial progress under

it, the SLFP-led government of 1960 held a grand industrial exhibition at the end

of its term in 1964 and state-sponsored industrializing was carried out until the late

1970s.

The first attempt at planned industrialization can be seen in the ten-year plan of

1959, under the first SLFP-led government. Yet specificities were glaringly absent.

As with its political orientation, Sri Lanka’s economic links with the outside world

increasingly diversified from the late 1950s. Although its main trading partners

continued to be western economies, particularly Britain, Sri Lanka increasingly

imported rice from China and industrial goods from the USSR; exported rubber

mainly to China and the Soviet Union, and copra and coconut oil to India, Pakistan,

and the Soviet Union. Moreover, SLFP-led governments were more in favor of bi-

lateral trade than so-called “free trade.” For example, these governments expanded

the model of the Sino-Sri Lankan rubber-rice agreement of 1952 to other sectors of

the economy. This diversification is clearly apparent in regard to tea exports, where

the function and meaning of tea estates in Ceylon was transformed from a sector

that produced primarily for London, to one that produces for the world. Moreover,

institutionalizing state-dominated bi-lateral trade, the government placed harsh

restrictions on imports in 1961, and these remained in effect until 1977.29

In addition to the lack of capacity and commitment among the Sri Lankan


entrepreneurs to industrialize the state, the governments did not favor private

capital, particularly foreign companies. The 1956 government reversed the

privatization policy of the previous government, not only by continuing to appoint

the members of executive boards but also in increasing the number, making state

corporations just another variation of state-run institutions. Concurrently,30

nationalization was carried out across all businesses whether owned by Ceylonese

or foreigners, including institutions such as schools and, in the mid-1970s,

plantations. Complementary to nationalization was the expansion of state activity

in sponsoring banks (Peoples Bank, Bank of Ceylon, National Savings Bank, and

the State Mortgage and Investment Bank), insurance corporations, new industries,

and development projects, particularly in agriculture. The state policies further

narrowed the room for development of large private enterprises. Taxation, price

controls, and the welfare system largely regulated the rest of the (private) economy.

Moreover, in the early 1970s, elected workers’ councils were given a role in the

management of many state departments and corporations. What we see between the

1950s and 1970s is therefore a quasi-Soviet type of economic development, guided

by five-year plans, and not very different from developments in many states in the

periphery, particularly India. Holders of private capital were, therefore, reluctant31

to invest, except for a few who received state patronage, such as Piyadasa Mudalali.

It is well known that many “developing” countries had indeed enjoyed rapid

economic growth, more rapid than Western industrialized states had generally

experienced in the nineteenth century, and that this growth had not eliminated

poverty but had frequently been accompanied by a widening gap between rich and

poor. The new industries were large, but uncompetitive in the world market.32 33

Yet their competitiveness in the world market was not an issue for these

governments since, under the policies of import substitution, these industries

produced primarily for the national market and they were expected to be labor

intensive. Therefore, despite the diversification of the sources of foreign earnings

and exports, tea continued to be the main source of foreign income and plantations

the locus of production.

Despite its declining economic indicators, particularly the ones employed by the

World Bank based on national incomes, suggesting Sri Lanka’s “backwardness,”

its social indicators have always been significantly high. For example, in 1988, life

expectancy at birth (68 years) was the highest in South East Asia and the population

growth was a moderate 2.0%. Nevertheless, the United Front government’s34

economic policy helped Sri Lanka evade a “debt crisis” common to a large number

of states in the 1970s and 1980s. The nationalization of schools in the 1960s further

socialized education making it available to all Sri Lankans. The scarce presence of

multinational capital and the improved conditions of the workers and rural masses

as a whole, largely due to the bargains made by the leftist movements, made the gap

between the rich and the poor comparatively small. What this demonstrates is that35

economic indicators do not adequately represent social reality; social indicators can

be high while economic indicators such as income per capita, quite low, and this

was the case with Sri Lanka.


In short, what nationalist-socialist policies had foregrounded was an ambiguity

within the Sri Lankan economy. On the one hand, SLFP-led governments operated

within the hegemonic narrative; striving to “catch up” with the industrialized states,

and at the same time, maintaining the colonial-produced import-export economy

and the primacy of the plantations within it. On the other hand, these governments

continuously attempted to escape and subvert this dominant narrative, providing

social benefits from economic progress and guaranteeing the redistribution of

resources, largely through subsidies, compatible with their political objectives.

Nonetheless, both the reality and the meaning of national as well as Colombo

landscapes changed radically.

Reorganization of the National Landscape and Colombo

As in the early British colonial period, the first period of national transformation

was marked not so much by changes in Colombo’s built environment, but by the

profound change in its meaning. This was accompanied by a transformation in the

rural areas, particularly the village, the so-called “undeveloped” areas, the

plantations, and the historic sites. Building the post-colonial nation, the nationalist-

socialist governments incorporated these into the national society and space.

Until the 1960s, the village was still largely marginal within national space. The

national administration was represented at the village level by the Village Headman

and the Vel Vidane (the irrigation headman), who were usually local elite recruited

from the village itself. W hile the latter was replaced by a member of the elected

Cultivation Committee under the 1958 Paddy Lands Act, the former was replaced

by an appointed government officer, Grama Sevaka, in 1963. Secondly,36

establishing their position in national politics, the rural population actively

participated in 1956 elections. The participation in national politics also brought

national politics to the village, which was represented by the opening of branch

offices of national political parties in the 1960s. The access this provided the

villagers to regional and national leaders undermined the hold of the local elite on

the village. Moreover, the ruling SLFP leadership at village level had been in the

hands of ayurvedic doctors, Sinhala school teachers, and petty traders, and not the

traditional elite. If the old leaders gained their power by controlling the villagers’

access to important “outsiders,” these transformations opened the connection37

between the village and the “nation.” From the 1960s, the village in general ceased

to be a semi-self contained social unit, but a part of national society and space.

The nationalist-socialist governments, however, did not alter the

compartmentalized organization of Ceylon into provinces and districts, nor their

administrative centers established by the British. The United Front government of

1970, however, used this territorial structure to decentralize the administration.38

In 1973, it introduced a system of District Political Authorities led by the District

Minister, and supported by a decentralized budget. This potentially transformed

district capitals into district development centers, where decisions regarding the

development of each region were made. Despite differences, this structure is most


comparable with Vietnam which also developed districts as key economic and

political units and district capitals as development centers.39

The Freedom Party concentrated on the development of the village, principally

the Sinhalese one, and particularly in the provision of collective consumption goods

such as transport, educational, and medical facilities to remote areas. Although40

the buildings constructed during this period were themselves small in scale, the

number of building projects, such as bus stations, depots, hospital wards, clinics,

and primary schools, spread across the national territory. Expanding the national

communications and welfare systems, the nationalist-socialist governments

integrated remote villages into the space of a national society.

The industrial policy of the SLFP-led governments also led to the scattered

location of factories and plants throughout the island. (figure 5.2) Most of these

were located in small urban centers, far from Colombo. This policy of the dispersed

location of industries, however, seemed somewhat ambiguous, particularly since the

aspect of profitability was overshadowed by this government’s desire to increase

social benefits, especially employment opportunities, outside the main urban areas.

Most of these have large plants, often Asia’s largest. These not only required

immense resources to maintain, but also produced only at a fraction of their

capacity. Despite the dispersed location of factories and farms, their command41

centers were in the corporation headquarters located in Colombo.

The continuation of projects to improve irrigation works in the rural areas also

reached a high point in the mid-1960s with the proposal for the most ambitious and

largest single development project in Sri Lanka, the Mahaweli Project, which

accounted for 22% of government capital expenditure. The principal objective of42

this multipurpose project was to partially divert Sri Lanka’s longest river, the

Mahaweli, to revitalize, reinforce, and expand ruined ancient irrigation works. This

project included the construction of six major dams across the river to divert water,

regulate the flow, and, in so doing, produce hydro-electric power for the national

grid which would also be expanded.

Norms such as a cluster of one hundred families as the “manageable and

comfortable social unit” were derived directly from the study of existing old

(purana) villages. Fundamental differences between the new planned settlements

and purana villages, such as the fact that these existed largely marginal to the

national urban structure, were not addressed. The study of purana villages has,

nonetheless, influenced planners’ attitudes towards new settlements, for example,

instead of using numbers to identify settlements in the Mahaweli Project, hamlets

were given associable names. Second, the project primarily focussed on irrigation

and the planned rational use of water. Hence, the form of settlements were

determined not by social but by physical decisions regarding the best location of

reservoirs, the efficient path of canals, and soil types. Third, the dominance of the

irrigation infrastructure complemented by a hierarchical structure of “service

centers,” new towns and village centers, which were linked to the national urban

structure. This process, therefore, put an end, at least in theory, to the remaining

communal land, or “unclaimed” land, by institutionalizing its use and bringing a


large part of it under private ownership.

The empowering of the powerless in the rural area was complemented by

policies directed towards disempowering the powerful. Two important legal

measures to this effect were the ceiling placed on landed property at fifty acres per

person in 1972, and the nationalization of company-owned estates in 1976. This

legislation radically transformed land ownership patterns across the national

territory, making the state the principal owner of plantation space and by far the

largest owner of land.

In regard to the plantations, their authority was moved from overseas to

Colombo. Not only were the new state-appointed executives in the plantations paid

much less than their British predecessors, but the difference in resources allocated

to maintain planter bungalows and workers’ “lines” was also reduced. The

increased attention paid to the living conditions of plantation workers is represented

in improvements such as the replacing of “line rooms” with “twin type cottages”

and the conversion of old “barrack” type lines into separate units with more living

space. Most crucially, however, the Sirima-Shastri pact brought the plantation43

workers into the national arena, and repatriation of a proportion--under this

agreement--also began to change its composition.

If these policies left the historic sites untouched, the tourist industry, promoted

as a response to a worsening deficit of foreign exchange conditions, incorporated

these into post-colonial national space. A new ministry was also created in the

1970s for the promotion of tourism. Two major developments affecting the built

environment were the growing concern for historic monuments and the numerical

expansion of hotels. Although Sri Lankan concern about religion and culture was

on the rise from the 1950s through the 1970s, large scale restoration of historic

landscapes has only taken place from the 1970s. Nevertheless, apart from vacation

and recreational sites, cultural tourism was also developed and tourists were offered

new “independent” and “traditional” histories to consume.

These sites were therefore radically different from former tourist attractions,

such as the colonial hill stations of Nuwara Eliya and Kandy where the British had

attempted to simulate a “home away from home.” In the 1970s, cultural artifacts

located in the ancient metropolitical centers of, for example, Anuradhapura and

Polonnaruwa were reidentified and exhibited for the consumption of mainly

European and American visitors. These sites, located far away, marginalized

Colombo’s tourist value, though it is increasingly viewed as a somewhat alien port-

city of less interest. This exemplifies the stereotypical colonial and post-colonial

split site of the so-called “traditional” and “modern” city, although in Sri Lanka,

these components are relatively far apart. This provides a departure from earlier

British representations of Sri Lankan cultures through dead artifacts in museums,

whether in Colombo or London. What we find here is the post-colonial continuity

of the colonial idea of tourism combined with the replacement of the colonial

organization of tourism, both in regard to the activity as well as the landscape,

buildings, and structures involved.

Nonetheless, the state’s emphasis on rural development increased the


involvement of rural villagers in the national political process. The district system

also became the mechanism through which local level demands were articulated at

the national level, with District Ministers assuming the role of the spokesperson.

Mediating between national and local levels, the expanding role of “regional”

leaders also strengthened the capacity of the population in these areas to relate to

these leaders, rather than to the less accessible national ones. The Mahaweli

Project’s policies, not least the naming of places instead of numbering them, also

opened a space for settlers to develop relationships with the places they live.

Overall the nationalist-socialist governments’ emphasis has helped to modify the

role and meaning of rural areas and centers, but now within the national space.

Colombo and the National Urban System

This brings us to the area of the post-colonial urban structure in Sri Lanka. The

spatial implications of the rural focus of development policies, including making the

District the development unit, is apparent in the somewhat even distribution of

population among urban centers across the nation. In 1981, seventeen out of

twenty-four district capitals had a population between 20,000 and 50,000.44

Migratory patterns were also revealing; while Colombo District had received

migration from Kandy, Galle, Jaffna, and Matara, it lost to Kurunegala, Puttalam,

Anuradhapura, and Kegalla. Instead of a linear migration pattern from rural to

urban, what this represents is a circular movement of Colombo gaining from

districts in which the next tier of cities are located, while losing population to the

next tier.

Just as expanding its bus station represented Colombo’s centrality within Sri

Lanka, the expansion of the airport represented its new foreign links throughout the

world. Representing the increasing significance of air travel due to tourism as well

as diplomacy, a new airport was constructed at Katunayake. Prior to independence,

almost all international transport connections with Ceylon were by sea. Indeed, the

pre-eminent position and growth of Colombo as a port city, a critical fuelling

station, and port of call linking colonial economies and societies in four continents,

as all nineteenth and early twentieth century maps confirm. Yet with the

introduction of oil burners and the reduction of the distance between Europe and

Asia with the construction of the Suez Canal, Colombo’s importance in

international shipping declined.45

Air links with a post-colonial world-system of trade and international relations

were, however, slow to be established. The main international airport in Ceylon46

in 1947 was for military use, a strategic base for the Royal Air Force Bomber

Command, linked to its strategic defense plan for southeast Asia. This small station

at Katunayake, eighteen miles north of Colombo, formed the basis of Sri Lanka’s

international airport. It was first enlarged in 1956, but with Sri Lanka out of the

British imperial system and into the space of the post-War Non-Aligned Movement,

not least serving as its principal host for the summit of 1976, the government

invested three billion Rupees in constructing a new airport to host the event.


FIGURE 5.3 Non-Alignment: Bandaranayake Memorial International Conference Hall,Colombo, 1972.

Moreover, entering into a lucrative five-year agreement with the French airline,

Union de Transports Aeriens (UTA), the national carrier, Air Ceylon, was

reorganized in 1972. In this way, Sri Lanka like all new nations entered the air

corridors of the world system of international relations and trade with its own

airline.

The diversification of Sri Lanka’s political orientation did not radically change

Colombo’s landscape. Most directly related to the Non-Aligned Movement is the

Bandaranayake International Memorial Conference Hall which accommodated the

Non-Aligned Movement’s summit meeting in 1976.(figure 5.3) Although it came

to be identified with the Non-Aligned Movement after its summit meeting of 1976,

this modern conference hall was a gift from the Peoples Republic of China in

memory of late Prime Minister, S.W.R.D. Bandaranayake (1956-1959). Regardless

of its architecture, however, conference halls in which summit meetings were held

represent a deep meaning, and stand witness to the movement.

Colombo’s spatial transformation during this period was not so much visual; it

was not “modernized” until the 1980s. Private capital, of which the natural home

was Colombo, was constantly under the axe of nationalist-socialist governments.

Although the built environment did not change much, the purpose and meaning that

it symbolized did drastically. Since the state was expanding mainly through

nationalization and investment, so also did its ownership of property in Colombo,

and old colonial buildings were turned into government departments and

corporation headquarters. Several highrises built in the 1970s also included the

state sponsored bank and corporation headquarters.

The continued significance of the British-built Parliament complex stands

witness to the central political and economic role of the former fort area. They

replaced the Queen’s representative, the Governor-General, with a President, and


the highest court of appeal, the Privy Council of London, with a Sri Lankan Appeals

Court. This government also installed a new constitution and changed the name

from Ceylon to Sri Lanka in 1972. Despite these changes in the constitution and

nomenclature, the colonial landscape of the Fort area remained the same, and the

Queen’s House was simply renamed Janadipathi Mandiraya (President’s House).

The colonial mansion, entirely derived from seventeenth and eighteenth century

European architecture and dated at least from the 1770s, was used by the Dutch as

the Government House, the residence of the Dutch administrator of the maritime

province. The British who called it the Queen’s House (earlier King’s House) used

this as the Governor’s residence. In 1972, however, no architectural changes were

made.

The agencies responsible for the construction of the official built environment

were indigenized and expanded. Not only was the Public Works Department

separated into the Highways Department and the Buildings Department, but many

new specialized institutions were also established. While the Buildings Department

designed accommodation for state institutions, for example, town halls, hospitals,

and police stations, the new State Engineering Corporation was responsible for the

building needs of the semi-government sector run by government-appointed boards,

for example, corporations and banks. The expanded role of the state in the

production of spaces was also constituted through the increase in the number of

buildings it built, which was accommodated by replicating type buildings and

homogenizing the national built environment. These state sector buildings provided

for a minimum requirement, especially due to the stringent control of budgetary

allocations.

Legislation passed by the government of 1970 not only transformed the practices

and attitudes but also the legal framework of urban planning. A considerable

amount of legislation was introduced, including a rent control act, a ceiling on the

ownership of housing property to a maximum of two per family, a minimum lot size

for building, and a maximum limit on the buildable area of dwelling houses to 2,000

square feet. These regulations indicate that the United Front government did not

perceive “planning” as simply a technical expertise, but a highly politicized, value-

laden activity that is closely related to global and national power structures.

In the area of housing too, it was not so much the landscape, but the meanings

that changed during this period. For the first time, the government of 1970 created

a separate cabinet ministry for housing, and the official perception of poor

tenements was changed from “slums” that had to be removed from sight to one that

saw these as dwellings in need of upgrading. The appointment of a Member of

Parliament from Colombo itself to the ministry (which has continued until today)

helped poor urban dwellers in their bargaining for housing. With the Ceiling on

House Property Act of 1973, which limited the ownership of housing property to

two units, Colombo’s rented housing stock fell from 41% of the total in 1971 to

28.6% in 1981, and many tenants of so-called slums were transformed into home47

owners. The meaning of the housing landscape of Colombo, thereby, radically

changed.


FIGURE 5.4 The adaptation of colonial buildings: Colombo University’s College House,previously an elite residence in Cinnamon Gardens.

The state regulation of the building industry, however, reduced construction

activity, making the state the principal builder. This led to the re-use of existing

spaces and the transformation of building functions; spacious private bungalows

were increasingly adapted as offices, and state institutions intruded into the

fashionable colonial suburbs of Cinnamon Gardens. (figure 5.4) This was

especially the case with the entire length of the Bauddaloka Mawatha (previously,

Bullers Road) connecting Bambalapitiya and Borella.

Decolonizing Colombo, the place and street names were also indigenized. The

park in Cinnamon Gardens was renamed from Victoria to Viharamahadevi Park,

after the queen of a highly regarded Sinhalese king in Lankan history; Gordon

Gardens attached to the President’s House, and named after a British Governor, was

changed to Republic Square. The main thoroughfare in the Fort area, Queen’s

Street, became Janadhipathi Mawatha (lit. President’s Avenue). In Kandy too,

statues of Governor Ward, and the unknown (British) soldier (who fought to

colonize South Africa) were removed and replaced by five other statues including

the brave child (Madduma Bandara) of Kandy; the Government Agent’s bungalow

was transformed into a museum and street names were also changed.48

Finally, attempting to bring order to all these transformations, which had reached

the threshold, the government of 1970 embarked on a project to reorganize

Colombo. With the United Nations agreeing to support such a project in 1974, the

Colombo Master Plan Project was established. If the “socialist” partners of the

United Front government had until then been an obstruction to Western-style city

redevelopment that came along with financial aid, this opened the channel. Yet in

keeping with the worldview of the government, the three consultants selected were

Czechoslovakian, British, and Soviet, a somewhat unusual combination. Despite


the “communist” representation in this team, its initial suggestions hardly differed

from any other development project of the time, and its language of “growth,”

“growth poles,” and “growth corridors” is a good indication of this.49

Overall, transformations in the Sri Lankan national landscape, urban structure,

as well as Colombo were in most part the result of the ambiguity of national leaders

and governments about the centers of the society, their focus on upgrading the

living standards of the rural masses and the urban poor, on restructuring the national

economy in response to the problems of the 1970s, and also on deliberate anti-

private capital policies. In effect, they produced a post-colonial national space

incorporating outlying and marginal zones, including villages, plantations,

“undeveloped” land, and historic sites, in regard to its double meaning; breaking

away from the colonial yet reconstructing in relation to it. Despite minimal change

in Colombo’s visual landscape, its content, organization, and meanings were,

therefore, profoundly transformed.

The Construction of a Critical Vernacular Architecture

Although the landscape of Colombo had hardly changed since independence, a

new type of architectural design emerged as the leading trend in the 1970s,

transforming the constitution of the Sri Lankan field of architecture. (figure 5.5)

Considering its movement beyond so-called “Modern” architecture and its relation

to historic Lankan architecture, I shall call this a “critical-vernacular” architecture

of Sri Lanka. However, I am not referring to a mere “style,” the main trait of which

is that it is visually distinguishable from others, but to a cluster of broadly defined

design practices that draw upon historic Lankan concepts of space in creating

culturally, climatically, and technologically more appropriate buildings in

independent Sri Lanka. The prominence gained by this architecture led to the

commissioning of a leading architect of this tendency, Geoffrey Bawa, to design the

most prestigious piece of “national architecture” in the late 1970s, the new

Parliament complex--addressed in Chapter Six. This section investigates the

production of this architecture, its language, and the changes in Sri Lankan

architecture it brought about, focussing on Bawa and his partner in the early stages

of his career, Ulrik Plesner. I shall first explore the larger context in which similar

architectural design practices were developed.

The rise of critical-vernacular architecture has been a particular indigenous

cultural response to post-colonial economic, technological, ideological, and historic

conditions. While the socialists and nationalists contested the colonial system,

critical vernacularists contested the colonially produced norms and forms of design.

Unlike the restructuring of the village and Buddhism in the nineteenth century, this

architecture has no direct continuity with the past. Instead, it uses indigenous and

historic spatial concepts, elements, architectural details, and construction methods

to construct a built environment for contemporary institutions and functions. This

is, however, not a “vernacular architecture” nor an architectural style constructed

by borrowing elements of an historic architectural vocabulary to provide visual


FIGURE 5.5 Critical Vernacularism: Bawa buildings.

signs. Nor am I referring to Western architects’ attempts to create stylistically50

defined place-specific architecture, or to modern hotel complexes designed for the

visual consumption of tourists, simulating built forms of the indigenous

environments. What I am concerned with here is the conscious or unconscious

construction of a historic continuity through a particular cultural response from

within the society concerned where the trajectory of history has been ruptured by

colonialism, or other aspects of European expansion.

Critical-vernacular tendencies are apparent in the designs of, among others, the

late Hassan Fathy of Egypt, Charles Correa of India, and Geoffrey Bawa of Sri

Lanka, as well as in building complexes such the Citra Niaga of Samarinda and

Sukarno-Hata airport of Djakarta, both in Indonesia. Immediately after returning51

home, usually after studying in Britain or the United States, these architects

designed in the Western styles they had learned. Yet they are examples of those

architects who increasingly became conscious of the incompatibility of such an

architecture within the societies in which they practiced. They gradually

incorporated elements of indigenous and historic spaces, architectural elements,


building methods, and materials in developing their approach to design. These

decisions may well have begun in the interests of developing an appropriate “style,”

yet what they finally produced was profoundly different from an alternative style.

Critical vernacularism can also be distinguished from two other contemporary

architectural practices. One is the provision of organized support by institutions

based in the core for the development of culture-specific and place-specific

architecture. The Aga Khan Awards for Islamic Architecture, begun in 1976, and

based at Harvard-MIT, is by far the best example. While supporting “Islamic

Architecture,” the program has also assumed the role of being “spokesperson” for

Islamic culture and architecture worldwide, its paternalism expanded to the broader

Third World architecture through the journal, Mimar. The second type of practice

--the “cultural contextualization” of the non-indigenous presence--can be found, for

example, in the US embassies in Kuala Lumpur, Dhakka, and Colombo, built in a

“place specific style.”

The culture of critical vernacularism is, however, the result of a consciousness

of the inappropriateness of colonial and modern architecture of the West in a

culturally different, extra-European, post-colonial site. This is evident in Fathy’s

book titles, Architecture for the Poor, and Natural Energy and Vernacular

Architecture. Although the inappropriateness of his earlier “modernist” designs

were signalled by the shortage of steel and cement during the Second World War,

Fathy clearly notes the significance of issues of difference and identity. highlighting

the absence of an architectural signature in modern Egypt.52

The consciousness of the cultural context of design was not limited to well

known architects. The open pavilions of Citra Niaga and Sukarno-Hata airport in

Indonesia, and much contemporary building, for example, in India and Malaysia,

illustrates that this trend is a relatively widespread phenomenon. The Yemenese

government wrapped the West German-built glass and steel airport with traditional

Yemeni stonework, complete with decorative motifs. Peter Scriver finds in these53

trends a “cultural revolt against modern technology --specifically the technological

rationalism associated with the modern industrial complex of Western

civilization.”54

It is in this wider context that Sri Lankan critical vernaculars can most usefully

be examined. Critical vernacularists were, however, not insulated from regular

architectural trends of the world. Yet the involvement with issues in Sri Lankan

architecture has drawn their attention away from the stylistic controversies of the

West.

By referring to the indigenous spatial elements and culture, critical

vernacularists have differentiated the field of architecture. Their new designs

contested the homogenizing effect of architectural modernism in regard to built

forms and the continuing colonial norms. Bawa and Plesner, who began their

practice in the late 1950s, and others who engaged in developing alternative

approaches to colonialist and modernist architecture, largely practiced

independently, outside the government departmental structure of design and

construction. By the 1980s, however, the architects employed in government


departments and corporations, and responsible for continuing colonial practices,

had been substantially influenced by critical vernacularism, and many of these

offices developed their own variations, for example, in the State Engineering

Corporation’s “Summit Houses” and in the Mahaweli townships.55

Critical-vernacular architecture also ended the marginalization of indigenous

built forms from this post-colonial structure of architectural production.

Architectural historian Lawrence Vale observes that “Bawa’s capitol complex

stands squarely between the abstract universalism of high modernism and the literal

localism.” For Shanti Jayawardana, Bawa’s work “implied a sharp break with the56

then modes of the ‘international style’ which were reaching a high point in neo-

colonial fluency around [the] 1950s and 60s, best displayed perhaps in the arrogant

extravagance of Brasilia and Chandigarh.”57

The most significant impact of Sri Lankan critical vernaculars was that they

began to refamiliarize the official and institutional landscape for Sri Lankans. The

“innovators” of this practice, particularly Plesner, were apprehensive about the

disarray in post-colonial architecture caused by the colonial and modernist

imposition of, and the Sri Lankan desire to imitate, Western building forms and

elements which they had no cultural and economic competence to internalize. In

Plesner’s words:

Architecturally speaking, the country suffered from post-colonial self-denigration ...Some people enthusiastically believed in things like “American Style” and vinylfloors... Most of the new buildings were a reflection of Western ways, climaticallyunsuitable and visually indifferent... On my part, it was a process of first clearingaway the shabby asbestos roofing, the bare bulb lighting, the disastrous flat roofs, theimported rubbish, the slimy black mouldy walls without drip ledges, the admiration

for the second rate from Europe.58

Clearing away the colonial and modernist “mess” was accompanied by the re-

introduction of “traditional” elements and spaces, as found in dwellings, temples,

and historical remains, particularly the roof, veranda, and the internal courtyard.

The Portuguese, Dutch, and British colonials in Ceylon also adapted visually

dominant roofs with wide overhangs--with modifications such as the introduction

of half-round clay tiles--in their residential buildings. The roofs of the main British

colonial institutional buildings were, however, concealed behind dominant and

decorated walls that rose above the eaves line, generic to British built forms known

as Georgian and Neo-Classical styles. The issue is, however, not just about climatic

awareness, that monsoons destroy exposed walls and dampness creates “slimy black

molds” on them, since there are many design methods in the modern world to

enhance the climatic performance of a building, such as using ceramic tiles as a wall

finish. The reintroduction of the roof in a proto-traditional character was rather a

selection by Bawa and others, not merely to combat climatic problems, but to do so

by deploying indigenous methods, and building elements. Bawa claims:


One unchanging element of all buildings is the roof -protective, emphatic and allimportant -governing the aesthetic, whatever period, whatever place. Often abuilding is only a roof, columns and floors -the roof dominant, shielding, giving thecontentment of shelter ... the roof, its shape, texture and proportion is the strongest

visual factor.59

Similarly, verandas and internal courtyards are not the only solution to problems

of heat and ventilation, and their performance and function is not limited to solving

such problems either. For example, air-conditioning is used for such purposes in

many buildings in Colombo. Again, for critical vernacularists, verandas and

courtyards were culturally desirable. The reintroduction of these elements was,

therefore, not merely climatic or functional but also cultural and representational,

not least since these elements are not used in every so-called “tropical” setting.60

As Plesner has mentioned, although when judged by European standards they may

lag behind in building technology, these buildings were basic “simple houses.”61

Instead of depending on modern technology, such as air conditioning, these

architects have employed historic spaces, building elements, and forms, in

developing solutions to post-colonial problems.

The particular selection of spaces and architectural elements promoted cross-

culturally familiar space for indigenous cultural practices. The building elements

selected by Bawa and Plesner, such as the roof and veranda, bore a cross-cultural

familiarity. These are, however, not the only available historic and cultural

references in Sri Lanka. Most intimate religious architectures, for example,

represent more of a difference than a commonality. Buddhist stupas (and

vatadages), sikhara type masonry roofs of Hindu kovils, Islamic bulbous domes,

and the facades of Christian churches articulate their distinctiveness. In contrast,

the building type with a rectangular or square plan, extended veranda, and pitched

roof is the most commonly used form by all Sri Lankan social and cultural groups.62

Cultural differences among Sri Lankans are largely represented in the organization

of particular internal spaces rather than in the basic form or on the exteriors of

regular houses. As Vale suggests: “Bawa could [therefore] begin by working with63

roofs not necessarily choosing sides in so doing.”64

Despite drawing from historic Lankan built forms, critical vernacularists,65

however, did neither replicate nor re-produce historic buildings. This can be

contrasted with how the British colonial regime conceived and projected post-

independent Sri Lankan architecture in constructing a concrete replica of a historic

audience hall in Colombo to commemorate independence. Such replication of

historic built forms was also an option tried in several buildings, including the

Kandy and Anuradhapura railway stations. Critical-vernacular architects rather re-

discovered old Lankan buildings within a contemporary context instead of simply

replicating building elements. These they transformed, making them compatible

with and suitable for contemporary functions.

Critical vernacularists have not limited themselves to drawing solely on Lankan

historic forms. The hybridization of built forms over centuries through contacts,


exchanges, and subjection, has made the field of post-colonial architecture quite

complex. Between the two poles of highly prestigious colonial buildings using

imported forms (for example, the old Parliament) and Lankan peasant dwelling

houses was a wide array of hybridized built forms which included colonial

bungalows and new middle class housing. Bawa states:

I like to regard all past and present good architecture in Sri Lanka as just that--goodSri Lankan architecture--for this is what it is, not narrowly classified as Indian,Portuguese or Dutch, early Sinhalese or Kandyan or British colonial, for all the good

examples of these periods have taken the country itself into account.66

In this sense, this is not a historically defined ethnic or religious architecture, but

a particular type of “nationally” relevant contemporary production within a post-

independent context.

As with the selection of elements, the efficacy of an eclectic formation like the

critical-vernacular architecture of Sri Lanka depends on their composition. Critical

vernacularists have avoided a collage of direct historic quotations, as in

architectural postmodernism in the West, or in the case of Papua New Guinea’s new

Parliament. The architect of Papua New Guinea’s Parliament house, Cecil Hogan,

has adopted a kind of compendium of roof typologies treating three village types

of “typical” house forms merely as decorative shells, which “seem almost obviously

concerned with a near-literal representative documentation of the art and

architecture of the country’s multitudinous component cultures.” In Sri Lanka,67

critical vernacularists have not attempted to capture and represent all cultures within

a single image or as a series of images each representing a component culture, but

employed particular combinations that produced a new character with which Sri

Lankans can readily associate. As Vale argues, the Sri Lankan Parliament building

is inclusive in its approach to history without descending into a caricature or

pastiche; the articulation sought to capitalize upon the elements, traditions, and

cultures without trivializing them or rendering them incomprehensibly abstruse.68

Jayawardana finds this practice a reflection of the emerging post-independent

nationalism. Yet the elite and the Western background of the architects involved,

the forms they produced, and the language of the critical vernaculars of Sri Lanka

have nothing undeniably nationalistic. Nonetheless, the architecture they produced

was nationally acceptable and the timing was appropriate. In addition to leading Sri

Lankan architecture out of post-colonial denigration, the buildings and their

architectural spaces have developed a commonality across diverse social and

cultural groups. Its coincidence with the emergence or strengthening of particular

nationalist regimes in the 1950s provided the appropriate moment for its success.

Jayawardana rightly points out that: “Though Bawa was not the first Sri Lankan to

adopt revivalist trends in his work, he was the first to sustain such a course in the

building world.”69

As stated above, critical vernaculars are not specific to Sri Lanka but can be

conceptualized as a broader practice taking place in countries like Egypt, India,


1. John Hatch, “The Decline of British Power in Africa,” in Tony Smith, ed., The End ofEuropean Empire: Decolonization After World War II (Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath, 1975),82.

2. See Christopher Clapham, Third World Politics: An Introduction (London and Sydney:Croom Helm, 1985), 28.

3. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 49.4. Karl Marx, The Manifesto of the Communist Party (New York: International

Publishers, 1948 [1848]).

Indonesia, and Yemen. Although this broader trend does not represent one single

practice, these architectural practices have many characteristics in common,

principally arising from the consciousness of the inappropriateness of European or

American models of architecture, and, in some cases, also of notions such as

development and modernization, in different social, cultural and political contexts.

These critical vernacularist practices have, nonetheless, breached the larger

process in which knowledge is produced and circulated, subverting what

Goonatilake calls the “imitative syndrome,” or mimicry of knowledge produced in

the center. Yet Bawa’s Parliament gained for his practice the approval of the

professional peers in the core, expressed through an honorary Fellowship of the

American Institute of Architects and an exhibition of his work in London,

sponsored by the Royal Institute of British Architects. As Goonatilake has noted,

“If a major breakthrough occurs in a peripheral region, ... it is then usually

transferred to other peripheral regions only after legitimation and acceptance in the

center.” Bawa, and a few others, have gained the legitimacy of their peers in the70

core, and entered the world of the architectural “glossy” magazines.

As in the case of the national landscape, transformations in the field of

architecture, have been part of the larger production of a post-colonial nation, which

they also help to constitute. Critical vernacularists have responded to the economic,

social, and cultural problems bequeathed by a colonial built environment as well as

neo-colonial attempts to mimic western and modernist built forms. In so doing,

they produced a particular architecture that average Sri Lankans, as well as its

architects, can relate to. Temporally and spatially, critical vernaculars are both a

post-colonial as well as a global mode of architectural design.

Severing the vestiges of colonialism between 1956 and 1977, the nationalist-

socialist governments largely completed the post-colonial nation-building process.

Both rural villages, which were operating marginally within the national spatial

structures, and the plantations, the labor of which was denied citizenship, were

integrated into the national society and space. While the governments began

questioning the premises of urban and regional planning, critical vernacularism

became hegemonic in the national field of architecture. Although Colombo’s

landscape did not change much from outside, the social transformation brought it

to a threshold from within.

Notes


5. See Jackson, Quasi-States, 1, 27, 50-55. See also, Immanuel Wallerstein, “The World-Economy and the State-Structures in the Peripheral and Dependent Countries (the So-CalledThird World),” ch. in Politics of the World-Economy, 80-81.

6. “The principles, norms, and rules to which states must submit have increased in numberand have become tighter, and a growing number of supranational organizations haveacquired an autonomous power to overrule the inter-state system.” (Arrighi, 402-3)

7. See Fred L. Block, The Origins of International Economic Disorder: A Study of UnitedStates International Monetary Policy From World War II to the Present (Berkeley, CA:University of California Press, 1977), 46-47; Jeffrey A. Frieden, Banking on the World (NewYork: Harper and Row, 1987), 64-65.

8. Kitsiri Malalgoda, Buddhism in Singhalese Society 1750-1900: A Study of ReligiousRevival and Change (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1976), 25. See alsoGombrich and Obeyesekere, Buddhism Transformed, 455.

9. Malalgoda, 28, 50, 258; Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire, 138; Tinker, South Asia,91.

10. For example, Gananath Obeyesekere, “Religious Symbolism and Political Change inCeylon,” Modern Ceylon Studies I (1970): 43-63; Malalgoda, op cit; Gombrich andObeyesekere, op cit.

11. Gombrich and Obeyesekere, 7; Malalgoda, 246; de Silva, A History of Sri Lanka, 249.12. See Gombrich and Obeyesekere, 204-5; Obeyesekere, 46.13. Malalgoda, 188.14. See Gombrich and Obeyesekere, 11, 447; Malalgoda, 25.15. Malalgoda, 262.16. Immanuel Wallerstein, “Liberalism and the Legitimation of Nation-States: An

Historical Interpretation,” Paper prepared for the conference on Nation-States and theInternational Order, Emmanuel College, Cambridge, September 4-6, 1991: 13.

17. See Roberts, Caste Conflict and Elite Formation, 291-2.18. See Jayawardena, The Rise of the Labor Movement in Ceylon, 4.19. B.N. Pandey, South and South East Asia, 1945-1979: Problems and Politics (London:

Macmillan, 1980), 29.20. In the 1937 elections, the Indian National Congress came to power in all eight

provinces, even in Bengal, and the Muslim League only gained a total of 40 out of 119 seats.(Niranjan M. Khilhani, India’s Road to Independence, 1857 to 1947 (London: Oriental,1987), 97) See also, Padmasha, Indian National Congress and the Muslims 1928-1947(New Delhi: Rajesh Publications, 1980).

21. For the significance of this aspect of society, see Knox, Urban Social Geography;Peter J. Taylor, Political Geography: World-Economy, Nation-State and Locality (Londonand New York: Longman, 1985); and in regard to Sri Lanka, see Dilesh Jayantha, ElectoralAllegiance in Sri Lanka (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).

22. Jayantha, 3-4.23. Moore, 25. see also, James Jupp, Sri Lanka: Third World Democracy (London: Cass,

1978).24. See Urmila Phandis and Sivananda Patnaik, “Non-Alignment as a Foreign Policy

Strategy: A Case study of Sri Lanka,” in K.P Misra, ed., Non-Alignment, Frontiers andDynamics (New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1983), 229-31; A.W. Singham and ShirleyHune, Non-Alignment in an Age of Alignments (London: Zed Books Ltd, 1986), 321; PhilipTowle, “The United Nations Ad Hoc Committee on the Indian Ocean: Blind Alley or Zoneof Peace?” in Larry W. Bowman and Ian Clark, eds., The Indian Ocean in Global Politics(Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1981), 207.


25. See Norman D. Palmer, South Asia and the United States Policy (Boston: HoughtonMifflin Company, 1966), 277.

26. Immanuel Wallerstein, “The Present State of the Debate on World Inequality,” inImmanuel Wallerstein, ed., World Inequality: Origins and Perspectives on the WorldSystem (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1975), 12.

27. Arndt, 52.28. Logan and Molotch, Urban Fortunes, 51-2.29. Patrick Peebles, Sri Lanka: A Handbook of Historical Statistics (Boston, MA: G.K.

Hall, 1982), 230; Department of Census and Statistics, Ceylon Economic Atlas (Colombo:Department of Census and Statistics, 1969), 41, 42.

30. Seven corporations were created in 1955. These were Paper Mills, Oils and Fats,Ceramics, Leather Products, Plywood, Chemicals, and Cement Corporations. By the endof 1959 another seven were added to these; Textiles, Sugar, Salt, Mineral Sands, SmallIndustries, HardBoard, Industrial Estates, and in the 1960s, Petroleum and Steel (1961),Tyres (1962), Hardware (1963), and Fertilizer (1964). (Peebles, 180)

31. See Stuart Corbridge, “Colonialism, Post-Colonialism and Political Geography of theThird World,” in Peter J. Taylor Political Geography of the Twentieth Century: A GlobalAnalysis (London: Belhaven Press, 1993), 191-2.

32. See Arndt, 3.33. Ministry of Planning and Employment, The Five Year Plan 1972-1976 (Colombo:

Ministry of Planning and Employment, 1971), 59.34. World Bank, Development Report 1989 (Washington, Oxford University Press, 1990).

Only Singapore has less population growth, at 1.6%. (Pandey, 177)35. See Central Bank of Ceylon, Survey of Sri Lanka’s Consumer Finances, 60.36. Barrie M. Morrison, M.P. Moore, and M.U. Ishak Lebbe, ed. The Disintegrating

Village: Social Change in Sri Lanka (Colombo: Lake House, 1979), 10, 32. See, Roberts(“Problems of Social Stratification,” 558-9) for a discussion on national and local elite.

37. See Roberts, “Problems of Social Stratification,” 558-9.38. Moore, 229. See also, G.R. Tressie Leitan, Political Integration Through

Decentralization and Devolution of Power: The Sri Lankan Experience (Colombo:Department of History and Political Science, University of Colombo, 1990), 8-9.

39. Dean Forbes and Nigel Thrift, “Territorial Organization, Regional Development andthe City in Vietnam,” in Dean Forbes and Nigel Thrift, eds., The Socialist Third World.Urban Development and Territorial Planning (Cambridge: Basil Blackwell, 1987), 99-128.

40. Castells, City, Class and Power, 17-20.41. Ministry of Planning, 66-70.42. Moore, 95.43. Marga, 75; Weerapurage Nimal A. Fernando, Continuity and Change in Plantation

Agriculture: A Study of Sri Lanka’s Land Reform Program on Tea Plantations, PhDDissertation (University of Wisconsin at Madison, 1980), 307.

44. M.W.J.G. Mendis, “Small and Medium Towns in Sri Lanka: A Statistical Analysis andTheir Planning Significance,” Economic Review 8 (1982): 30.

45. K. Dharmasena, “Colombo,: Gateway and Oceanic Hub of Shipping.”46. See Peebles, Sri Lanka, 165-7.47. Marga, 142-3.48. See Duncan, “The Power of Place in Kandy,” 197-8.49. “Urban Development Strategies,” Economic Review 3 (1977): 14; “Colombo Urban

Development,” 4.


50. For a discussion of the use of borrowed elements stripped of their historic substance,see Mark Jerzombek, “Post-modernist Historicism: The Historian’s Dilemma,” in MarcoDiani and Catherine Ingraham, eds., Restructuring Architectural Theory (Evanston, Il:Northwestern University Press, 1990), 86.

51. For an overview of these architect’s work see Hassan Fathy, Architecture of the Poor(Chicago: University of Chicago, 1977); Hassan-Uddin Khan, Charles Correa (Singapore:Concept Media, 1987); Brian Brace Taylor, Geoffrey Bawa (Singapore: Concept Media,1986); J.M. Richards, “Geoffrey Bawa” Mimar 19 (1986) 45-6; Jayawardana, “Bawa”;Ulrik Plesner, “Ulrik Plesner” Living Architecture 5 (1986): 94-97.

52. See Fathy, Architecture for the Poor, 19.53. Brent C. Brolin, The Failure of Modern Architecture (New York: Van Nostrand,

1976), 109.54. Peter Scriver, “Arcadia or Apocalypse? Some Observations on Post-Independent

Urbanity and the Notion of a Third World Architecture,” Presented to the InternationalConference on Architecture, Calcutta, November 16-20, 1990, 4-5.

55. Ulrik Plesner, “Mahaweli Building Program, Sri Lanka,” Living Architecture (1986);Nihal Perera, “Parameters Employed in the Planning of Mahaweli Towns,” (in Singhalese)Isura 11 (1986); “The Scope and Potential for Architectural and Planning Professions in theMahaweli Project.” Mahaweli Architects’ Union 1 (1988): 11-15.

56. Vale, 194.57. Jayawardana, “Bawa,” 47.58. Plesner, “Ulrik Plesner”: 85.59. Geoffrey Bawa, “Statement by the Architect,” in Khan, ed., Geoffrey Bawa, 16.60. King has observed that the verandah, for example, is not a universal “tropical” feature

and many traditional African cultures do not use this element. (The Bungalow, 265)Therefore there is nothing climatic about the verandah or, in a general sense, any buildingelement since which element to use in what situation is primarily a cultural decision. (SeeRapoport, House Form and Culture)

61. Plesner, “Ulrik Plesner.”62. See Bandaranayake (“Sri Lanka and Monsoon Asia”) for typologies.63. See M.J.A. Rahim, “Muslim Architecture,” in M.M.M. Mahroof et al. eds. According

to Rahim, Islamic, Singhalese, and Tamil houses are similar from outside and the differencesare encoded in interior spaces.

64. Vale, 197.65. Barbara Sansoni’s collection of drawings, mainly of historic religious and royal

buildings, and country and town houses, entitled Viharas and Verandas illustrates their mainsource.

66. Bawa, 16.67. See Vale, 273, 279-280.68. See Ibid, 194; Barbara Sansoni, “A Background to Geoffrey Bawa,” in Taylor, ed.,

Geoffrey Bawa, 172-3.69. Jayawardana, 49.70. Goonatilake Aborted Discovery, 111.

5: nationalizing ceylon: nationalist and socialist responses to colonial spaces

Documents

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