Since our trust has now been broken already in suspicious circumstances, we felt it imprudent to believe that it could not happen again to us. We have had to look elsewhere for an alternative service. It is hard to make any assumptions about what, why, and/or who. But as shown in the current actions in Tamil Nadu that resemble the Thought Police, in which they trying erase the word Eezham, a word first used in 2000-year-old Tamil literature, and they are covering the picture of Prabhakaran, even though he is most likely dead, strange things can and do happen in this world.

And awful things happen in this world, too. The plight of every single person in the Northeast right now is a testament to this. As depressing at it is, this juncture in history is actually quite pivotal in the future course of events. Changes in the world have enabled this destruction to take place, but these changes also mean that new opportunities are possible and may emerge that can rectify the structural problems that have led to this self-destruction over the last 61 years. As the past few years, and the past few months, and the next few years to come will show, nothing is constant in this world. But what we should hold constant is our belief in dignity, justice, and peace.

Groundviews did further digging into the Sunday Times’ story about Bob Rae, and its shoddy attempt to use Wikipedia as a source to paint Bob Rae as an LTTE supporter.

As expected, what Groundviews found was a trail of facts that all point to the dubiousness of the original Sunday Times article.  This report from Groundviews is commendable for taking the extra step to investigate this.

However, I’d like to point out and correct something quite glaring.   The Groundviews post starts out saying

In what may be a first for a Sunday newspaper in Sri Lanka, a reference from Wikipedia is used to buttress a case for the alleged pro-LTTE bias of Canadian Liberal MP Bob Rae, recently deported from Sri Lanka after first being issued a visa to enter.

I may be wrong, but I interpret this to say that Sanjana, the Groundviews editor, thinks that this may be the first time that a Sri Lankan Sunday paper used Wikipedia as a reference.  Well, I did my own cursory fact-finding using my internet tool of choice, google.com, and used this search query: site:sundaytimes.lk wikipedia.  I found out that, unfortunately, this is not the first time — by a long shot.  This is a selection from the results of my Google search.

From 2007:

Situation Report – Fight now and pay later
by Iqbal Athas
Sunday Times
May 20, 2007

The MiG-29 multi role combat aircraft, identified as Fulcrum by the NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organisation), is Russia’s answer to western combat aircraft. According to Wikipedia internet encyclopedia, the history of MiG-29 started in 1969 when the then Soviet Union learned of the US Air Force’s ‘FX’ programme, which resulted in the F-15 Eagle.

From 2008:

Situation Report – LTTE resorts to gas warfare as fighting escalates
by Iqbal Athas
Sunday Times
October 19, 2008

Tiger guerrillas on the Akkarayan sector have been offering stiff resistance and have resorted to increased use of gas. It is said to be fired from a launcher and had also been used when 120 m.m. mortars were directed at troop positions. The guerrillas this week accused the Army also of using a “tear gas” type of gas but a high-ranking military source dismissed it as “just propaganda.”

Troops affected by it have complained of breathing difficulties, vomiting and skin rash. According to the Army, the gas canisters (See photograph of unexploded canisters recovered from the battle area) contained CS gas. According to Wikipidia [sic], the free encyclopaedia on the internet, CS gas (common name 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile) is a substance that is used as a riot control agent and is generally accepted as being non-lethal. CS was discovered by two Americans Ben Corson and Roger Staughton at Middlebury College in 1928, and the chemical gets its name from the first letters of the scientists’ surnames.

The chemical, according to Wikipedia, reacts with moisture on the skin and in the eye causing a burning sensation and the immediate forceful and uncontrollable shutting of the eyes. It says reported effects could include tears streaming from the eyes, running nose full of mucous, burning in the nose and throat areas, disorientation, dizziness and restricted breathing. In highly concentrated doses it can also induce severe coughing and vomiting. Almost all of the immediate effects wear off in a matter of minutes, it adds.

The use of CS in war, the internet encyclopaedia says, is prohibited under the terms of the 1997 Chemical Weapons Convention (signed in 1993) because it could trigger retaliation with more toxic agents such as nerve gas. Domestic police use of CS, however, is legal in many countries. Recently, blank pistol cartridges carrying CS in powder form have been released to the public. These, when fired in relatively close ranges, fully expose the target to the effect of CS, and is employed as a potent defensive weapon in regions where blank firing pistols are legally permitted for such use, says Wikipedia.

The above article comes from Iqbal Athas, who also wrote for Jane’s Defence Weekly and CNN International. I don’t think Wikipedia is wholly unreliable, but for an award-winning defense analyst such as Athas, and someone who actually is paid to work full-time reporting on such matters, it seems a little dubious, IMHO. To his credit, Athas was, of course, by then already under increasingly severe pressure to report “good things” about the government’s war; his writing belied this and showed at what strains he was to do so.  (And if it really isn’t Athas who wrote the above, then we should be even more concerned and dumbfounded.)

On a somewhat-related note, it is also interesting to note that the military source in the above excerpt is said to have denied the use of chemical weapons.  It has been reported by sources on the ground, newspapers, Christian news agencies, and TamilNet that the government did indeed use banned weapons such as chemical bombs and cluster bombs in the “final push” of its decisive military “victory” and slaughter of Tamil civilians in 2009.  The following articles, from 2001 and 2008, show that the use of such weapons has a long history:
Monday, 20 August 2001: Furore over chemical warheads continues
Monday, 01 December 2008: Quick IDP action averts carnage from Cluster bombs

From March 2009:

Politics of the plight of civilians
March 15, 2009
Sunday Times

This is in the Darfur region of western Sudan. The lines of conflict are seen by some to be ethnic and tribal, rather than religious, according to Wikipedia. However, a United Nations report states that the various tribes under attack (chiefly the Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa ) do not appear to have a distinct ethnicity from their attackers.

Conclusion

Following the assassination of most accomplished Tamil journalists, including D. Sivaram (aka Taraki), the assassination of Lasantha Wickramatunga and the fleeing of other high-profile Sinhalese journalists and rights activists, what Sri Lankan journalism has been forced to become is plain to see. Again, I’m not saying that the internet is wholly unreliable, including Wikipedia. We all use it, even Groundviews.  Actually, so do The Island, the Sunday Observer, and The Sunday Leader.  But you know, I’m actually glad that they cite their sources.  This shows that they have some journalistic integrity, if that’s any consolation.  I mean, it could be worse.  In fact, all of these traditional print Sri Lankan newspapers use Wikipedia and cite it as a source when they do.  How odd!  Now there is a story worth investigating…

But the internet must be taken with an extra grain of salt, shall we say. Especially if we think that the Sri Lankan government, or its supporters, supporting institutions, and supporting countries have played a hand in things. (Of course, in Sri Lanka, most all institutions are straight-jacketed into supporting what is effectively a fraternal triumvirate dictatorship.)  And I think that was the original point of the commentary on the Sunday Times’ article on Bob Rae — it’s a shoddy attempt by people of influence in Sri Lanka to vilify people around the world using underhanded methods.

Oh, and speaking of dubious activities using the internet, did I mention that WordPress.com one day last week mysteriously suspended our blog?

Hi,
I am really sorry for that happening – I cannot see why yet but I can assure you it will not happen again.
The blog is back just as you left it and I very much apologise for the trouble we caused you.

Context

Also on June 10, Bob Rae, Canadian shadow foreign minister and former Premiere of Ontario, reported that after having flown to Colombo to see firsthand the situation in Sri Lanka, he was turned back on the “tip-off” from Defence officials based on “intelligence reports” that he was a security threat and a supporter of the Tigers (now defeated).  Bob Rae has been a moderate and critical of Tigers in his 30 years of following the conflict.  It has been reported that members of the Sinhalese Diaspora were instrumental in making the case to prevent Rae from visitng Sri Lanka, and that these people have been in frequent contact with the representatives of the Sri Lankan government, including at the highest levels.  As far as Voices in Exile, well, Defence.lk (theSL Defence Ministry’s website) is an official follower on our Twitter accout — what an endorsement!!

We also note that website tamilnation.org was shut down (along with eelam.com and lttepeacesecretariat.com) simultaneously after the killing of LTTE political and military leadership, on May 17, 2009.  That tamilnation.org has been shut down seems concerning to us, since  it is actually a very scholarly website with original articles and copies and documentation of academic articles, human rights reports, legal reports, history, interviews, etc. and is clearly not affiliated with the LTTE.  Thus, what motivation would the site maintainers have to shut it down of their own volition?

We see that in Sri Lanka and in the West, websites are getting shutdown, innocent people (no matter how helpful, powerful or famous) are being vilified and humiliated.  So it makes us wonder… Did people complain to WordPress like they did about Bob Rae? Did WordPress act on a volume of complaints rather than read our blog? When the representative from Termination of Service Reports responded to us, why did the rep. not tell us why our blog account was suspended, and that they didn’t know why, when they can find this out for other accounts that have been suspended?

In 1987, aged 17, Niromi de Soyza shocked her middle-class Sri Lankan family by joining the Tamil Tigers. One of the rebels’ first female soldiers, equipped with rifle and cyanide capsule, she was engaged in fierce combat.

Last Updated: 5:19PM BST 08 May 2009

December 23 1987 was a warm, clear day, and I was hiding under a lantana bush with eight of my comrades in a village north of Jaffna. With our rifles cocked and our cyanide capsules clenched between our teeth, we awaited the soldiers who had been scouring the area for us for several hours. Our orders were to empty our magazines into them before biting into the glass capsules we called ‘kuppies’ that hung on a thread around our necks. As a Tamil Tiger guerrilla, there was no honour in being caught alive.

There had been 22 of us that morning – nine boys and 13 girls, aged between 15 and 26 (I was 17). Now, four of my comrades were missing, two were wounded. Ten were dead.

At dawn that day, Indian soldiers had surrounded our hideout, an abandoned house in Urumpiraay, a village in Sri Lanka’s far north. As the war had intensified, our units were being squeezed out of Jaffna peninsula. We slept in different places each night: in open fields or houses taken by force.

Our sentry had spotted the enemy soldiers beyond a distant line of trees to the south, and Muralie, our unit’s second in command, decided that we should flee north across an arterial road. The morning chill was still in the air and the dew dripped from banana leaves as we ran though fields and approached the road. As we attempted to cross it, we were ambushed from both sides in a barrage of automatic gunfire, grenades and mortars.

‘Get on the ground!’ Muralie commanded. ‘Fire and break through!’

Everyone was screaming. We crashed to the earth as the gunfire grew heavier, now coming from behind as well. A helicopter gunship hovered above, strafing. We were surrounded. There was no cover other than a few palmyra and banana trees that dotted the landscape.

Lying on my stomach, I shuffled forward, following another girl, Ajanthi. My heart was pounding and thick smoke stung my eyes. In a state of panic, a few of my comrades attempted to cross the road. One by one, they fell. One was on her back, screaming, ‘My leg, someone help me!’

A grenade flew over from my left. As I scrambled to my hands and knees, I realised Gandhi, our area leader, was in its path. ‘Gandhi anna, duck!’ I screamed. The grenade hit his head and exploded, ripping his skull apart and covering me with blood and tissue.

Ajanthi got to her knees, ready to dash across the road, then abruptly fell backwards, her arms and legs splayed awkwardly. Blood spurted from the centre of her forehead, soaking her auburn hair. In shock, the air left my lungs and I could not inhale it back. Ajanthi had been my friend since primary school and we had joined the Tigers together. She had been hit by a sniper.

I crawled forward holding my AK-47 with both hands, desperate to reach Ajanthi and drag her to safety. To my right, two comrades were trying to drag Muralie, who had also been hit, through the wet grass. His blood-soaked body kept slipping through their hands. As I reached Ajanthi our unit commander, Sudharshan, yanked me by the collar, dragging me with him.

‘But Sudharshan anna,’ I said, stumbling to my feet. ‘We have to get Ajanthi, Muralie and the others.’ ‘They will follow us,’ he said.

We ran through the fields and scrambled over a concrete parapet as rifle rounds flew from behind us, gouging holes in the wall. On the other side, we kept running and found five comrades. Seeing no means of escape, we took shelter under a large lantana bush.

At sunset, confident that the soldiers had moved on, we set out through fields, supporting the injured, eventually reaching a gathering of huts on a narrow lane. News of our arrival spread quickly, and a curious crowd assembled along the sides of the lane. Most had never seen female Tigers before. An old woman flung her bony arms around me: ‘Ayyo, my poor child! Wouldn’t your mother’s heart break if she saw you like this?’ I didn’t realise then how I must have looked – a starved teenage girl with torn clothes, caked in blood, barefoot and carrying an automatic rifle. Most villagers wanted us gone. If the enemy soldiers knew we were still around, they were sure to attack the village.

On Christmas Day we arrived at a hideout occupied by another Tigers unit. I sat outside on the mud veranda, thinking about the ambush. Since joining the Tigers, Ajanthi and I – and another girl, Akila – had been inseparable. The last time I had seen Akila she had been firing her M16 rifle from behind a water tank during the ambush. Sengamalam, one of the boys, told me that more than 2,000 soldiers had been involved in the round-up of our 22-strong unit, and had dumped the bodies of those who died in the open air. My mind swum with images of Ajanthi and Muralie, their bodies being scavenged by dogs.

I heard footsteps and looked up to see the silhouette of three figures approaching our hut. I recognised the tall Akila, her hair in plaits, and ran towards her. As we embraced she told me that, after the ambush, she had survived by hiding in the water tank for two days. ‘I wish I was dead, like Ajanthi,’ I spluttered. ‘How will I face her family again?’

‘We have to keep their dream of Tamil Eelam alive,’ Akila said. For me, the dream felt far from reach.

I was born in 1969 in Kandy, a Sinhala-majority town in Sri Lanka’s hill country, where I spent the first seven years of my childhood. Although I had Tamil ancestry – Tamils make up 18 per cent of Sri Lanka’s population – my extended family included Sinhalese, Sri Lanka’s main ethnic group. In 1978 I was packed off to the northern Tamil city of Jaffna to live with my grandmother, whom I hardly knew. ‘So that you can become a doctor like your aunts and uncles,’ my father reasoned. ‘Education in Jaffna is far superior.’ I was a confident, independent girl, and my parents believed that I would cope well in a new environment without them.

Though I was unsure about becoming a doctor, life in Jaffna was idyllic. Not knowing when I would see my family again, I began to distance myself from them and focused on shaping my own life, making new friends and working hard at school. My weekends were busy with music, art and drama lessons.

Soon after, my father, an engineer, went to work in Dubai (it was becoming difficult for Tamils to get good jobs at home). My mother, a teacher, and sister, who was three years my junior, joined me in Jaffna. I had been oblivious to the deep-rooted tensions that were simmering between the Tamils and Sinhalese, and knew nothing of the anti-Tamil riots that had killed more than 250 Tamils in the country the year before. But before long the growing unrest outside my sheltered world was hard to ignore.

Tamil pressure groups were becoming more vocal in their calls for equal rights between Tamils and Sinhalese, and an end to what many Tamils felt were the government’s discriminatory policies. Meanwhile, Sinhala extremism in the south was growing. There were boycotts, strikes and skirmishes. There were reports of Tamil politicians being shot dead, Tamil students being kidnapped.

The quest for equality had spawned a number of militant groups, including the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), known as Tamil Tigers outside Sri Lanka. In the late 1970s they had taken up an armed struggle for an autonomous Tamil homeland – Tamil Eelam – in the north and north-east of the country. To begin with, they carried out minor attacks on government targets, but on July 23 1983, when I was 14, they ambushed an army patrol in Jaffna, which brought them into the national spotlight.

Thirteen soldiers died that day, but about 1,000 Tamils were said to have lost their lives in an anti-Tamil pogrom in the south that followed. Large numbers of Tamil men, mostly teenagers, reacted to what they saw as the Sri Lankan government’s indiscriminate persecution of innocent Tamils and joined the insurgency, which was rapidly gathering support.

By 1985 the situation had escalated into full-scale war in the north and east, with the government launching a military offensive on Jaffna to wipe out the rebellion. From a normal happy upbringing, I now found myself living in constant fear. Jaffna’s library, where I spent much of my free time, was burnt down by government forces.

We lived under indiscriminate aerial bombing and artillery shelling, day and night; our movements were restricted by long curfews. We spent many days in our home-built bunker where I studied, listening to gunshots and explosions, still hopeful that my exams would go ahead as scheduled. The Tigers’ television station broadcast images of war: militant training camps, dead bodies, Tamil funerals. The images began to haunt me, and I felt outraged that no one was being held to account, and that the outside world was doing nothing.

The government launched further offensives and air raids became commonplace. Bodies were sometimes strewn by the roadside on my way to school, or hanging from lampposts. I was dismayed by the attitude of family and friends who believed that they had no power to change the situation, but didn’t support the militant groups either. ‘These movements are run mostly by uneducated, low-caste youth,’ they said. ‘They are not capable of solving the Tamil problem.’ But at least they were trying, I thought.

The more I listened to the militants, the more I sympathised with the idea of an armed struggle, the more it seemed like the only response. There had never been any military connections in my family but I felt that if we were going to be killed or driven from our homes, then shouldn’t we at least put up a fight? With friends, I talked about joining the insurgency, though few felt the same, believing that such actions would bring disgrace to our families. Middle-class girls didn’t do such things.

In May 1987, when I was 17, the Sinhala government launched Operation Liberation, declaring all-out war against the Tamil militants on the Jaffna peninsula. By now, the Tigers had gained administrative control of the region, restricting government forces to their barracks. My mother decided that we would return to Kandy until the war was over. As we prepared to leave, I made up my mind to run away to join the Tigers. I told my mother that I was going to Ajanthi’s to say goodbye.

After I told Ajanthi my plans, she said, ‘I’ll come with you for moral support’, and we set off together for the office of the Student Organisation of Liberation Tigers, a large house near Jaffna University. We were interviewed. They were hesitant about recruiting middle-class girls, but finally relented. Ajanthi said she would miss me too much if I left without her, and was enlisted, too.

‘The life of a freedom fighter is harder than you think,’ Thileepan, the leader of the Tigers’ political wing, warned us, adjusting his spectacles. ‘We gamble with our own lives and bury our friends. There’ll be none of the comforts you are used to. I’m not convinced that you are suited to this lifestyle, but no one here is held against their will.’

Knowing my mother and sister were out, I went home and wrote them a note explaining that I had joined the Tigers. The following morning, naturally, my mother and sister and Ajanthi’s family came to the Tigers’ camp to plead with us to return home. ‘You are about to ruin your life. This is not for you,’ my mother said, grasping my hands, her eyes filled with tears. Ajanthi’s father said we had been brainwashed.

Thileepan sent us to work with members of the Tigers’ female political wing, the Freedom Birds, contributing articles to their magazine. At the Freedom Birds’ headquarters, we met Akila, who at 17 was already an active member. We immediately became friends.

A few weeks later, Ajanthi and I were selected by Thileepan for military training, and sent to an all-girls’ camp in an outer suburb of Jaffna. As we were the first group of female fighters to receive military training in Sri Lanka (at this point, there were fewer than 80 female Tigers), the organisation’s enigmatic leader, Velupillai Prabhakaran, wanted to talk to us personally. Prabhakaran was seated behind a table in his office as I entered. The flame from a hurricane lamp cast shadows across his round face, and his large brown eyes glistened.

Although he did not ask many questions, it felt like he knew everything about me. ‘There’s hardly anyone in our movement from your suburb,’ he said. ‘Most girls here come from rural areas. They are used to hard work, pounding rice and chopping firewood. Be in no doubt: training is going to be harder for you.’

Training, in a village south of Jaffna, was indeed gruelling. The days began with a two-hour exercise regime, followed by commando training. In the afternoons we had firing practice and lessons in explosives and camouflage. Prabhakaran would visit often, and one afternoon expressed his desire to recruit us into the newly formed Black Tigers, the organisation’s suicide bomber wing. Only a week earlier the first of the Tigers’ suicide bombers, known as Captain Miller, had driven a lorry packed with explosives into an army barracks. Prabhakaran wanted to give women the same ‘opportunity’, he said. I knew I could never do such a thing because I didn’t have the courage.

As the war escalated, civilians were being drawn into the conflict, and a humanitarian crisis was developing in Jaffna. Eventually, the Indian government intervened. It was no secret that India had been fostering Tamil militants and providing them with training and ammunition, and the relationship between the Indian and Sri Lankan governments was strained.

Then the peacekeeping forces arrived, a ceasefire came into effect, and a peace accord was implemented on July 29 1987. The war-weary Tamils welcomed the Indian Peace Keeping Forces (IPKF) with open arms, and our training came to an abrupt halt. But Prabhakaran informed us that our services would be required in a month or two – he was sure that hostilities would resume by then. Like the Sri Lankan government, he did not appreciate the foreign intrusion.

So it came to pass. In September 1987, while other Tamil militant organisations engaged in the political process, Thileepan went on hunger-strike at the Nallur Hindu Temple near Jaffna in protest against certain aspects of the peace deal. Mass rallies were organised by pro-Tiger Tamils in Jaffna and also by Sinhala extremists in the south, both parties believing the IPKF’s intervention served only to assert India’s supremacy in the region. Fourteen days later, Thileepan died. The Tigers blamed the Indian government for his death, and for standing aside while Sinhalese forces violated the peace deal by arresting some prominent Tigers despite the amnesty provisions, and organising Sinhala settlement programmes in Tamil areas.

The war resumed, just as Prabhakaran had predicted, though now we were fighting not only the government troops but the peacekeepers, too. A few thousand youths suited only for guerrilla warfare, we were no match for the world’s second largest army. Fighting the Indians made no sense to me.

I had joined the Tigers to make a stand against my country’s oppressive government, but now found myself at war with those who had come to maintain peace. It seemed that we might be destroying our only chance of resolving the situation peacefully.
I expressed my doubts to Akila. Fiercely loyal and single-minded, she argued that, as foot soldiers, we were unaware of the complex politics of the situation, and that our leaders knew exactly what they were doing. ‘Believe that Anna Prabhakaran is always right,’ she told me. I decided to ignore the growing disquiet inside me and joined the war.

In October 1987 I was sent to the battle front north of Jaffna where, by coincidence, Akila and Ajanthi joined me in a unit of 30 cadres. The first female Tiger had died only a few days earlier, confirming that women were now firmly engaged in frontline fighting. During battles we had been trained to fire in the general direction of the enemy, not at individual targets, and I am not sure whether any of my bullets hit anyone. I’m glad I don’t know. I once asked the more experienced Muralie how he had coped with the knowledge that he had shot people. ‘After your second victim,’ he said, ‘you learn to live with it.’

The Tigers had no chance of overpowering the Indian army. Jaffna and many surrounding areas were now under their total control. We were being ambushed on an almost daily basis, becoming accustomed to life on the run. Support among Tamil civilians was waning, too. Whenever we encountered them, they pleaded with us to stop this futile war.

By early 1988 self-preservation was now our main strategy. Forced out of the Jaffna peninsula by the IPKF and following an overnight boat trip, we found ourselves in the jungles of the Vanni in the Northeastern Province, where it was easier to lie low. I was now part of a large unit of nearly 45 girls, with Sengamalam, one of only two boys, in charge. We moved around the jungle constantly, enduring primitive living conditions, while 130,000 Indian troops searched for some 2,000 Tigers on foot and by air.

After five months in the jungle, I contracted malaria; many others were ill with dysentery and typhoid. Akila stayed by my side, taking care of me, bringing medication and rice water in a rusty tin. I felt broken, physically and emotionally, constantly questioning the purpose of a war that could clearly never be won.

I had believed the militant propaganda, convinced that Tamil Eelam could be achieved within a year or two, but it was now clear that an armed conflict would resolve nothing. ‘You are free to go home any time,’ Thileepan had told me. It was time to walk away while I still could. One morning in June 1988, at a house near the forest where we had taken shelter following an attack on our hideout, I approached Sengamalam as he washed at a well.

‘I want to resign.’

He stopped drying his face with a sarong and looked at me with alarm. ‘Is someone giving you grief?’

‘I just can’t cope any more,’ I said. ‘I am tired of this war. I’m weak.’

Calmly, he said that he was sorry, that he was surprised I had lasted so long. ‘I must warn you,’ he said, ‘your life will be in grave danger – from the Sri Lankan army, Indian forces, even rival organisations. Your name is on their wanted lists.’ I didn’t care. Surrendering my rifle and kuppie, I severed all ties with the Tigers, unsure of what the future held or whether my family would take me back.

Before I left, I went to say goodbye to Akila. When she saw me wearing a dress, her jaw dropped. ‘What’s going on? You’re leaving?’ Consumed with shame, I could hardly speak. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving me,’ she sobbed. ‘We have so much to achieve.’

Before I could answer, Sengamalam hurried Akila into the forest and I watched her fade into the bright sun. I never saw her again.

Sengamalam organised for a local boy to take me to an old woman’s hut in the nearby town of Kilinochchi. For the next seven days, the old woman and I did not exchange a word or a smile.

One afternoon, while I helped herd her cattle into the shed, I saw my mother running towards me down the dirt lane. The mayor of Kilinochchi, a distant relative of ours, had bumped into the Tamil boy who had taken me to the old woman’s hut. The mayor was carrying a photograph of me that my mother had sent him and asked the boy if he had seen me. Once I had been identified, the mayor fetched my mother. The only emotion I felt was relief, as if I was no longer capable of experiencing happiness or sadness. My mother embraced me and sobbed while I stood numb.

‘I thought you might have disowned me,’ I said, finally.

‘You’re my daughter,’ she replied. ‘I’d never give up on you.’

Within two months of being re­united with my family, during which time we never discussed my experiences with the Tigers, I was sent to a boarding school in India, where I completed my studies.

Although now in the country whose army I had fought only months before, I was determined to move on, and make the best of the second chance I had been given. On the surface, normality had returned. My fellow students were girls from affluent families who liked talking about boys, movie stars and make-up. When the lights in our dormitory were turned off at night,
I cried myself to sleep.

In 1990, with help from a relative, I moved to Sydney (my family later moved here, too) and went to university. After my departure from the Tigers, and with a new life opening up to me, I blocked out any news of Sri Lanka as best I could. These days, of course, that is impossible.

The two-year war between the Tigers and the Indian forces came to an end in July 1989, with changes of government in both countries. But the fighting between the Tigers and Sri Lankan government forces continued. The primitive but effective guerrilla organisation that I left behind grew into a sophisticated and formidable fighting force. As its methods became more extreme, the LTTE’s notoriety increased – not just within Sri Lanka but all over the world. (In late 2001 it was classified as a terrorist organisation by many countries, including Britain.)

The Tigers have carried out hundreds of suicide attacks over the past two decades – more than all other radical organisations in the world combined – notably the assassination of the former Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi in 1991 and the Sri Lankan president Ranasinghe Premadasa in 1993. The guiding principle of the Tigers, which is so difficult for outsiders to understand, is that the greater the sacrifice, the higher the honour. There are no bravery medals or pompous ceremonies for living Tigers. They are recognised for their efforts, and awarded a rank, only posthumously.

The past decade has seen several attempts to form a lasting peace agreement between the Tigers and the government, all unsuccessful, with the most recent deal being torn up in early 2008. Since 2006 the LTTE’s numbers have fallen sharply, funding from the Tamil diaspora has dwindled while government forces stepped up their campaign.

At the beginning of this year, a number of crucial Tiger strongholds were recaptured, and the government was confident it would annihilate the remaining 1,000 or so Tigers within months. After three decades, the civil war – which has claimed more than 70,000 lives, including at least 23,000 Tigers – appears to have reached its endgame, the Tigers on the verge of a final, crushing defeat. The Tamils are, it seems, back at square one.

In fact, the situation may be worse than ever, with the UN estimating last month that 150,000 civilians were trapped in the eight-square-mile battle zone, under constant threat of bombing from government forces and being used as human shields by the increasingly desperate Tigers. Some human rights groups have condemned the Sri Lankan government for practising ethnic cleansing against them under the guise of fighting terrorism.

Although the Tigers have staged many comebacks in history, the latest government offensive may prove fatal. But the scars of this war will remain and until a political solution that recognises and respects the rights of the Tamil people is reached, I am certain that the Tamil fight will continue in one form or another.

More and more these days, my thoughts turn to the friends I have lost. Recently, for the first time, I typed Akila’s name into Google and found several archived reports and court documents. Akila died on November 1 1995, in a battle against the Sri Lankan army in Neervaeli, a town for which we had fought side by side. With defeat imminent, she ordered the members of her unit to bite into their cyanide capsules, and then did the same herself. She was 24. After her death, she was awarded the highest rank achievable in the Tigers at that time: lieutenant colonel.

The most shocking detail was that she had been wanted for masterminding, along with Prabhakaran, the killing of Rajiv Gandhi. The suicide bomber and her collaborators had been members of Akila’s unit, as I might have been if I had not walked away from the Tigers.

On the surface, my life goes on as a happily married mother in an affluent Sydney suburb who enjoys reading, travelling and gardening. But often, in my dreams, I am being chased by soldiers or hanging off the side of a cliff, unable to save myself. It has taken me a long time not to panic when I hear a helicopter overhead.

I rarely discuss my past. Some people cannot believe that someone with my grounded life could have done such things. Others probe deeper, asking if I regret picking up a gun with the intention of killing others. Of course, some will never understand; others may consider me a former terrorist.

The world has changed since I left the Tigers, just as the Tigers themselves have changed. In this age of terrorism it is easy to dismiss all rebel groups as evil extremists, without considering the desperate circumstances that drive people to align themselves to such organisations.

I tell people that the only reason I joined the war was to defend my people, because I felt there was no other choice. I was not coerced to join the insurgency. As an idealistic 17-year-old, I believed in the power of the individual to make a difference.

Looking back, I recognise the elements of reckless, selfish teenage rebellion in my behaviour. Naively, I had not anticipated how much my family would suffer as a consequence of my actions, and for that, above all else, I am deeply sorry. To this day, my parents have never asked me about my time as a guerrilla. As a mother myself, I understand why: that they must somehow have felt that they had failed in their duty as parents.

I hope that my own children will grow up with firm, positive views, but without the blind idealism I had all those years ago. I will try to teach them tolerance and empathy, that the end doesn’t always justify the means, and that violence always breeds more violence. I learnt that lesson the hard way. Sadly, I don’t think Sri Lanka has learnt it at all.

(Note: for an exclusive inside look at female Black Tigers, view the documentary, My Daughter, The Terrorist by Beate Arenstad (Snitt Productions, 2006) )

The political system, society and economy of Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon) were thoroughly shaken up by more than a quarter of a century-old conflict (1983-2009) between the Sinhalese majority government (75% of the population) and the Tamil separatist guerrilla led by the organisation of Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The latter which controlled vast territories between 1990 and 2007 in the north and east of the island, and had built a force capable of inflicting heavy losses on the Colombo Army, has lost most of its territories and military potential since 2008, and finds itself driven to defeat on a cramped coastal strip, where it was retaining about fifty thousand civilians, by the end of April 2009, to use them as a human shield. After suspending hostilities for two days on the occasion of Sinhalese and Tamil new year (14th April), fights resumed and the Sri Lankan Army moved forward till the sea, triggering a mass exodus of civilians, which as of 29th April, continued under disastrous sanitary conditions.

Geopolitcal map of Sri Lanka,
© Philippe Rekacewicz, Atlas du Monde diplomatique 2009

http://www.monde-diplomatique.fr/cartes/

The sick man of South Asia

But LTTE’s predicted defeat does not settle serious problems accumulated over the years and makes Sri Lanka the sick man of South-Asia. The chronic agitation of the ‘ultra-nationalist’ Sinhalese groups adds to the separatist claim of the Tamils of the North and East of the island (about 18% of the population), being orchestrated by two organisations: the Marxist-run Janata Vimukthi Peramuna (Liberation Front of the People), but now highly xenophobic, responsible for two revolutionary waves severely repressed by the ruling party in 1971 and 1987-89; and the Jathika Hela Urumaya (Heritage of the Sinhalese Nation), inspired by fundamentalist Buddhist monks.

Moreover, the years of war, rebellion and repression, that killed about a hundred thousand people, have left behind permanent scars, broken-up families, a culture of violence and impunity. They have struck almost irremediable blows to a democracy and a Welfare-State that were considered models until the 1970s. The 2004 December Tsunami aggravated the situation. Finally the economy of the country, liberalised, from the early 1980s, based on the « dragons » of Eastern Asia model, was not able to take full advantage of the spate of growth, unlike that of its neighbours, and finds itself today crippled as much by war as the world crisis.

In this context, the Government Army’s victories could change the deal for the time being, by justifying the government’s strategy, and by reducing the cost of up-keep of order. But they run two major risks:

• That of losing sight of the crying need for giving a political answer to the minorities’ claim, either in a federal form, or by a power-sharing at the centre
• That of giving a dominant role in the State, like in Pakistan, to the 200 000 strong Army, difficult to demobilise.

The numerous violations against human rights, particularly affecting journalists, since the beginning of 2009, which add to the police torture that has become part of everyday life and unbridled activities of Mafia-like armies stemming from militant groups united by the government or not, are so many signs of the critical state of the Sri Lankan democracy. In a context of intense polarisation, the actors of the conflict, both Tamils and Sinhalese, develop ultranationalist speeches that spurn the historical truth, in the country itself and in the Diaspora. What motivates the LTTE leaders is the individual sacrifice for collective cause, represented by the founder of the movement, Prabhakaran, and they have made a perfect heroine out of the kamikaze woman, following the Indian tradition of sati – the widow who sacrifices herself on the funeral pyre of her dead husband. By the same token, the last patch of Tigers is likely to sacrifice itself in a mass suicide like the Jauhar of the Indian Rajputs. How has it come to this, for Ceylon was reputed for its gentle pleasures of life that travel agents still sell to blind tourists?

At the roots of violence

This complex conflict lived on the identity assertion of linguistic and religious groups from the end of the 19th century, but it reached its full extent only in the middle of the 20th century. Until the end of the British colonial period (1796-1948), the two main linguistic communities – the Sinhalese and the native speakers of Tamil, who represented respectively 75 % and 25 % of the population, had coexisted peacefully. After attaining independence smoothly, a Sinhalese identity movement developed that considered that the majority of the population had been a victim of the preference shown to Tamils during foreign domination. From 1956, Sinhalese took the place of English as the only official language. Besides, Theravada Buddhism, the dominant religion with the Sinhalese, enjoyed an increasingly official recognition. The Sinhalese-Buddhist identity asserted itself to the detriment of the Tamil minorities, which included Shivaite Hindus (about 15%), Christians especially Catholics (3%), and Sunni Muslims (7%).

The Tamils originating from the region of Jaffna, at the far north of the island, developed entrepreneurial activities. This minority, prematurely provided with formal education in English, found jobs in the colonial administration and expatriated to Malaysia and Singapore from the 19th century. It had suffered a lot from the change in the official language. On the other hand, the Tamil Muslims, many of them businessmen, had not met with the same fate and did not interfere in any agitation. As for the Tamils settled down as coolies in the tea plantations of the centre of the island since the 19th century, they were prevented from acquiring citizenship for a long time, but did not have the means to go on a strike. Therefore only the Jaffna Tamils gave a political slant to the feeling of discrimination of which they considered themselves victims, by claiming an autonomy status, then independence, for the north and east provinces called « Tamil Eelam ».

Tamil women harvesting tea in Nuwara Eliya,
© 1997 / IRD – Marc Bournof

In the 1970s, the movement, which expressed itself peacefully through the voice of the Tamil deputies without producing any results, was swamped by militant organisations created by young people to whom university education had been refused through the interplay of a quota system. Those who could, left for English-speaking countries, while those who did not have the means ventured into clandestine action and formed about ten groups. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) became the strongest, eliminating or absorbing their competitors. In 1983, after a separatist attack on the Army, a sort of pogrom took place at Colombo against Tamils as a reprisal. This violence perpetrated by those close to the government gave rise to a wave of mass emigration either towards the north of the country, or towards the West where immigrants obtained political refugee status. The Sri Lankan Tamils acquired an international visibility at that point. It was the emigrants who were going to become the most ardent supporters of the Tamil separatism, by virtue of a classical phenomenon of « remote nationalism».

From 1987, India, which secretly supported the militant organisations, intervened and asked the Sri Lankan government to grant a particular status to the provinces of the North and East with a Tamil majority. But the separatists turned their weapons against India, accused it of playing into the Sinhalese hands for having accepted the principle of territorial integrity of the country. The Indians withdrew, leaving the field free to the Tigers, who took control of the North and the East of the island till 1994-1995, while the Colombo government, battling against the Sinhalese rebellion of the Janata Vimukthi Peramuna, indulged in a merciless crackdown. The Tigers showed their strength but alienated India’s support by assassinating in 1991 Rajiv Gandhi, who was behind the Indian intervention, then the Sinhalese President Premadasa in 1993.

At the end of this era of terror, an attempt at negotiation between the new President Chandrika Kumaratunga, and the masters of Jaffna was aborted. The government opted for a military solution. In 1995, the Army was sent to take back Jaffna and clear the route A7 that linked the city with the centre of the island. Having preserved the control of this axis, the Tigers fell back into the interior and made the market town of Kilinochchi their « capital »: about 200 000 persons left Jaffna to follow the LTTE, by fair means or foul. Tens of thousands of young got enrolled, parents having to provide at least one of their children for the cause. Between Kilinochchi and the port of Mullaittivu, the Tigers built a strong military base equipped with modern telecommunications facilities, a flotilla of fast patrol boats and even runways, from where tourism planes equipped with bombs took off. They financed their military efforts by collecting significant sums of money from the Diaspora, whose number increased with those who fled in the face of conflict, and by setting up international arms traffic with the help of a fleet of underworld cargos criss-crossing the Indian Ocean. They increased the number of suicide bombers in the south: The President just missed it in 1999, and the Colombo airport was targeted in 2001, which led to the decline of an economy revolving round tourism.

Tamil refugees, © 2009 / Eric Meyer

But, after 2001, the international community watched over the financial channels of suspect terrorist organisations. The Tigers, buckling under pressure, called a truce in the beginning of 2002, following negotiations under the aegis of Norway. The political negotiations that had to be part of the truce did not make headway, with the government making highly implausible proposals and the Tigers refusing all international supervision. The balance of power got readjusted in 2004, with the defection of the LTTE Head of the east of the island, Karuna. Then Tsunami struck the zones controlled by the Tigers and destroyed one part of their military infrastructures. Humanitarian aid that reached the victims became a stake, the government and Tigers vying with each other to control it. The conflict resumed at the initiative of the LTTE with the assassination of the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Tamil origin. The new President Rajapakse, elected by a narrow margin in 2005, in the face of the former Prime minister and initiator of the truce, thanks to the instruction of abstention launched by the Tigers, could count on Karuna’s collaboration whose troops became aids of the regular Army. The Sri Lankan Navy managed to sink the LTTE merchant fleet in the international waters, and resisted attacks by the fast enemy patrol boats. The governmental troops took back the control of the coasts and the route A9 at the end of 2008, the Tigers left their « capital » Kilinochchi, lost their fortified positions between January and March 2009 and were besieged along the north-east coast with the civilians who had followed them, with none other hope of escaping the hoop net than to appeal to an international humanitarian intervention that the image of LTTE as terrorist organisation rendered implausible, in spite of the mobilisation of the Tamil Diaspora in the West.

The future of Sri Lanka depends on the capacity of its leaders in showing generosity in victory and accepting the emergence of a new leadership for the Tamil community, and on the capacity of the Tamil Diaspora in recognising the mistakes that it has committed by giving an unconditional support to the Tigers.

Bibliography

Le Monde Diplomatique, march 2009,

Eric Meyer, Sri Lanka entre particularismes et mondialisation. Paris, La documentation Française, 2001.

Eric Meyer, Sri Lanka, Biography of an Island. Colombo, Viator Publications, 2nd ed., 2006.

Quel avenir pour Sri Lanka ?
par Eric Meyer, professeur à l’Inalco, Paris
Date de l’article : 01-05-2009

Le système politique, la société et l’économie de Sri Lanka (anciennement Ceylan) ont été profondément ébranlés par plus d’un quart de siècle de conflit (1983-2009) entre le gouvernement contrôlé par la majorité cingalaise (75% de la population) et la guérilla séparatiste tamoule menée par l’organisation des Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). Cette dernière, qui contrôlait entre 1990 et 2007 de vastes territoires au nord et à l’est de l’île, et avait constitué une force capable d’infliger de lourdes pertes à l’armée de Colombo, a perdu l’essentiel de ses territoires et de son potentiel militaire depuis 2008, et se trouve acculée à la défaite sur une bande côtière exiguë, où elle retenait encore, fin avril 2009, une cinquantaine de milliers de civils, pour lui servir de bouclier humain. Après deux jours de suspension des hostilités à l’occasion du nouvel an cingalais et tamoul (14 avril), les combats ont repris et ont permis à l’armée sri lankaise de s’avancer jusqu’à la mer, déclenchant un immense exode de civils qui à la date du 29 avril se poursuivait dans des conditions sanitaires désastreuses.

Geopolitcal map of Sri Lanka,
© Philippe Rekacewicz, Atlas du Monde diplomatique 2009

http://www.monde-diplomatique.fr/cartes/

L’homme malade de l’Asie du Sud

Mais la défaite annoncée des LTTE ne règle pas pour autant les graves problèmes qui se sont accumulés depuis des années et font de Sri Lanka l’homme malade de l’Asie du Sud. A la revendication séparatiste des Tamouls du Nord et de l’Est de l’île (environ 18% de la population) s’ajoute l’agitation chronique des milieux cingalais « indigénistes », orchestrée par deux organisations : le Janata Vimukthi Peramuna (Front de Libération du Peuple), d’obédience marxiste, mais devenu largement xénophobe, à l’origine de deux vagues révolutionnaires durement réprimées par le pouvoir en 1971 et en 1987-89; et le Jathika Hela Urumaya (Héritage de la Nation Cingalaise), animé par des moines bouddhistes fondamentalistes.

En outre, les années de guerre, de rébellion et de répression, qui ont fait une centaine de milliers de victimes, ont laissé des meurtrissures indélébiles, des familles éclatées, une culture de la violence et de l’impunité. Elles ont porté des coups peut-être irrémédiables à une démocratie et à un État-Providence qui étaient cités en modèles jusque dans les années 1970. Le tsunami de décembre 2004 est venu aggraver la situation. Enfin l’économie du pays, libéralisée dès le début des années 1980, sur le modèle des « dragons » d’Asie orientale, n’a pas pu profiter pleinement de la phase de croissance, contrairement à celle de ses voisins, et se trouve aujourd’hui plombée par la guerre tout autant que par la crise mondiale.

Dans ce contexte, les victoires de l’armée gouvernementale peuvent changer la donne dans l’immédiat, en légitimant la stratégie du gouvernement, et en allégeant le coût du maintien de l’ordre. Mais elles sont porteuses de deux risques majeurs:

• celui de faire perdre de vue l’impérieuse nécessité de donner une réponse politique à la revendication des minorités, soit sous une forme fédérale, soit par un partage du pouvoir au centre
• celui de donner à l’armée, forte de 200.000 hommes qu’il sera difficile de démobiliser, une place prépondérante dans l’État, comme au Pakistan.

Les nombreuses atteintes aux droits de l’homme, touchant notamment des journalistes, depuis le début de l’année 2009, qui s’ajoutent à la pratique banalisée de la torture policière et aux activités incontrôlées de milices mafieuses issues de groupes militants ralliés ou non au gouvernement, sont autant de signes de l’état critique de la démocratie sri-lankaise. Dans un contexte d’extrême polarisation, les acteurs du conflit, tant dans le pays lui-même qu’en diaspora, développent des discours ultranationalistes qui font fi de la vérité historique. Les dirigeants des LTTE ont fait du sacrifice individuel pour la cause collective, incarnée par le fondateur du mouvement, Prabhakaran, le ressort de leur action, et de la femme kamikaze l’héroïne parfaite, selon la tradition indienne de la sati – la veuve qui se sacrifie sur le bûcher funéraire de son époux défunt. Dans la même logique, le dernier carré des Tigres risque de se sacrifier dans un suicide collectif à la manière du jauhar des Rajpoutes indiens. Comment en est-on venu là, alors que Ceylan était réputée pour sa douceur de vivre, que les agences de tourisme continuent de vendre à des touristes aveugles ?

Aux racines de la violence

Ce conflit complexe s’est nourri de l’affirmation identitaire des groupes linguistiques et religieux à partir de la fin du 19ème siècle, mais il n’a pris toute son ampleur que depuis le milieu du 20ème siècle. Jusqu’à la fin de la période coloniale britannique (1796-1948), les deux communautés linguistiques principales– les Cingalais et les locuteurs de langue tamoule, qui représentent respectivement 75 % et 25 % de la population, ont coexisté de façon pacifique. Après une indépendance acquise sans heurts, s’est développé un mouvement identitaire cingalais qui estimait que la majorité de la population avait été victime de la préférence accordée aux Tamouls pendant la domination étrangère. À partir de 1956, le cingalais devient la seule langue officielle à la place de l’anglais. Par ailleurs, le bouddhisme theravada, religion dominante chez les Cingalais, bénéficie d’une reconnaissance officielle de plus en plus marquée. L’identité cingalaise-bouddhiste s’affirme au détriment des minorités de langue tamoule, qui comprennent des hindouistes de tradition shivaïte (environ 15%), des chrétiens surtout catholiques (3%), et des musulmans sunnites (7%).

Les Tamouls issus de la région de Jaffna, à l’extrême nord de l’île, ont un esprit d’entreprise développé. Cette minorité précocement scolarisée en anglais a trouvé des emplois dans l’administration coloniale et s’est expatriée dès la fin du 19ème siècle en Malaisie et à Singapour. Elle a beaucoup pâti du changement de langue officielle. En revanche, les musulmans tamouls, souvent commerçants, n’en ont pas souffert et sont restés à l’écart de tout mouvement de contestation. Quant aux Tamouls installés depuis le 19ème siècle comme coolies sur les plantations de thé du centre de l’île, ils se sont vus longtemps refuser l’accès à la citoyenneté, mais n’avaient pas les moyens de se lancer dans une action revendicative. Ce sont donc les seuls Tamouls de Jaffna qui ont donné une forme politique au sentiment de discrimination dont ils s’estimaient victimes, en réclamant un statut d’autonomie, puis d’indépendance, pour les provinces nord et est, qualifiées de « Tamil Eelam ».

Récolte de thé par les femmes tamoules à Nuwara Eliya,
© 1997 / IRD – Marc Bournof

Dans les années 1970, le mouvement, qui s’exprimait de façon pacifique par la voix des députés tamouls sans obtenir de résultats, a été dépassé par des organisations militantes créées par des jeunes auxquels l’accès à l’université avait été refusé par le jeu d’un système de quotas. Ceux qui le pouvaient sont partis dans les pays de langue anglaise, tandis que ceux qui n’en avaient pas les moyens se sont lancés dans l’action clandestine et ont constitué une dizaine de groupes. Les Tigres de Libération de l’Eelam tamoul (LTTE) sont devenus les plus puissants, éliminant ou absorbant leurs concurrents. En 1983, a eu lieu à Colombo, en représailles d’un attentat des séparatistes contre l’armée, un véritable pogrom à l’encontre de Tamouls. Cette violence perpétrée par des proches du gouvernement a provoqué une vague d’émigration massive soit vers le nord du pays, soit vers l’Occident où les immigrés ont obtenu le statut de réfugié politique. Les Tamouls sri-lankais ont acquis à cette occasion une visibilité internationale. Ce sont les émigrés qui vont devenir les partisans les plus ardents du séparatisme tamoul, en vertu d’un phénomène classique de « nationalisme à distance ».

À partir de 1987, l’Inde, qui soutenait en sous-main les organisations militantes, intervient pour que le gouvernement sri-lankais accorde aux provinces à majorité tamoule du Nord et de l’Est un statut particulier. Mais les indépendantistes reprennent les armes contre l’Inde, accusée de faire le jeu des Cingalais car elle a admis le principe de l’intégrité territoriale du pays. Les Indiens se retirent, laissant le champ libre aux Tigres, qui prennent le contrôle du Nord et de l’Est de l’île jusqu’en 1994-1995, tandis que le gouvernement de Colombo, aux prises avec la rébellion cingalaise du Janata Vimukthi Peramuna, se livre à une répression impitoyable. Les Tigres montrent leur puissance mais s’aliènent le soutien de l’Inde en assassinant en 1991 Rajiv Gandhi, qui était à l’origine de l’intervention indienne, puis le président cingalais Premadasa en 1993.

À l’issue de cette ère de terreur, une tentative de négociation entre la nouvelle présidente Chandrika Kumaratunga, et les maîtres de Jaffna avorte. Le gouvernement opte pour une solution militaire. L’armée est envoyée en 1995 pour reprendre Jaffna et dégager la route A7 qui relie la ville au centre de l’île. Ayant conservé la maîtrise de cet axe, les Tigres se replient à l’intérieur et font du bourg de Kilinochchi leur « capitale » : 200 000 personnes environ quittent Jaffna pour suivre les LTTE, de gré ou de force. Des dizaines de milliers de jeunes sont enrôlés, les parents devant fournir à la cause au moins un de leurs enfants. Entre Kilinochchi et le port de Mullaittivu, les Tigres constituent une puissante base militaire équipée de moyens de télécommunications modernes, d’une flottille de vedettes rapides et même de pistes d’aviation d’où décollent des avions de tourisme équipés de bombes. Ils financent leur effort militaire en recueillant des sommes considérables auprès de la diaspora, dont le nombre s’accroît de ceux qui fuient le conflit, et en se lançant dans le trafic international d’armes à l’aide d’une flotte de cargos interlopes sillonnant l’océan Indien. Ils multiplient les attentats-suicides dans le sud : la présidente y échappe de peu en 1999, et l’aéroport de Colombo est pris pour cible en 2001, ce qui contribue au déclin d’une économie fondée sur le tourisme.

Réfugiés tamouls, © 2009 / Eric Meyer

Mais, après 2001, la communauté internationale surveille les circuits de financement des organisations suspectées de terrorisme. Les Tigres, sous la pression, concluent une trêve début 2002, après des négociations menées sous l’égide de la Norvège. Les négociations politiques qui devaient accompagner la trêve s’enlisent vite, le gouvernement faisant des propositions peu crédibles et les Tigres refusant toute supervision internationale. L’équilibre des forces se modifie en 2004, avec la défection du chef des LTTE de l’Est de l’île, Karuna. Puis le tsunami frappe les zones contrôlées par les Tigres et détruit une partie de leurs infrastructures militaires. L’aide humanitaire qui parvient aux victimes devient un enjeu, le gouvernement et les Tigres s’efforçant d’en prendre le contrôle. Le conflit reprend à l’initiative des LTTE avec l’assassinat du ministre des affaires étrangères d’origine tamoule. Le nouveau président Rajapakse, élu de justesse en 2005 face à l’artisan de la trêve grâce à la consigne d’abstention lancée par les Tigres, peut compter sur la collaboration de Karuna dont les troupes sont devenues les auxiliaires de l’armée régulière. La marine sri-lankaise parvient à couler la flotte marchande des LTTE dans les eaux internationales, et à résister aux attaques des vedettes rapides de ses ennemis. Les troupes gouvernementales reprennent le contrôle des côtes et de la route A9 à la fin de l’année 2008, les Tigres évacuent leur « capitale » Kilinochchi, perdent leurs positions fortifiées entre janvier et mars 2009 et sont assiégés le long de la côte nord-est avec les civils qui les ont suivis, sans autre espoir d’échapper à la nasse qu’en faisant appel à une intervention humanitaire internationale que l’image d’organisation terroriste des LTTE rend peu crédible, en dépit de la mobilisation de la diaspora tamoule en Occident.

L’avenir de Sri Lanka dépend de la capacité de ses dirigeants à faire preuve de générosité dans la victoire et à accepter l’émergence d’un nouveau leadership pour la communauté tamoule, et de la capacité de la diaspora tamoule à reconnaître les erreurs qu’elle a commises en accordant un soutien inconditionnel aux Tigres.

Liens bibliographiques

Le Monde Diplomatique, mars 2009,

Eric Meyer, Sri Lanka entre particularismes et mondialisation. Paris, La documentation Française, 2001.

Eric Meyer, Sri Lanka, Biography of an Island. Colombo, Viator Publications, 2nde ed., 2006.

Sick of these Tamil Protests, Eh?

Let me take you to the side and speak to you. Away from the crazy mass of Tamils who have blocked your roads, caused commuter chaos and made your life so miserable through their protests. So miserable, that you feel they should be stripped of their Canadian citizenships and shipped back to wherever the hell they came from.

As Torontonians recover their lost sympathy from last week’s University Avenue hold-up, and brace for yet another human chain rally put forth by these Tamils, there are many thoughts that explode out of my rather youthful Tamil-Canadian upbringing. Yes, I too am a Tamil. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a terrorist nor am I a difficult individual. I do however, have a long last name and I am the first generation of my family to receive a post-secondary education, but never has my upbringing consisted of resentfulness towards what my family calls home, Canada. I would never give up this country for anything, and my pride for it mirrors my favourite beer commercials.

However, I cannot express the same sort of pride towards our government. Over the past eight months, there have been over 5 major protests in Toronto and Ottawa consisting of thousands of Tamils. They have been held to encourage the Canadian government to take a stance in the brutal civil war that has escalated over the past few months in Sri Lanka. They have been peaceful demonstrations which remain precedent to other activists groups. There haven’t been any instances of foul play or aggressiveness that has put the general public at harm. Yes, they have been loud and large but, if they weren’t they wouldn’t be called protests.

But all this yelling has only fallen on deaf ears of the Conservative government and annoyed my ethnically embracing neighbours. Everyone is tired of it, except the government it seems. Why is it so hard for Canadian politicians to grow a pair and condemn the killing of innocent civilians?

I’m not asking my fellow Canadians to hold hands and pet my freedom fighters, but stop supporting an equally ruthless and if not worse terrorist Sri Lankan government. The Sri Lankan government has banned independent media and international aid agencies in the North, where the bulk of the fighting is taking place. Furthermore, UN satellite images last week prove that the Sri Lankan Army haven’t been enforcing a civilian friendly offense. Nearly 7000 civilians have died in the past 90 days, and these are only the confirmed reports. This is not to say that the LTTE have been proven to fighting a fair game either. There are reports of human shields and other disturbing practices from the “safe zone”. Nonetheless whether it is a result of their defeat or not, the Tigers have continually been calling for a ceasefire and that is a step in the right direction.

Incessant international suggestion for a ceasefire have been ignored and dismissed by Sri Lanka’s leaders. European countries have pushed international intervention while Canada, remains quiet. Let’s keep in mind Canada is arguably home to the largest number of Sri Lankan Tamils, outside of the tear-drop island. Being said, our Canadian ambassador remains posted in the Sri Lanka, and our trade with the country is as lively as ever.

What about the 3 million bucks Canada has committed to the rehabilitation of civilians? Yeah, what about it? There is no assurance to whether that money will fully fund in helping the civilians and the NGO’s aren’t allowed in the North, so to whom is this aid going to? Prime Minister Harper thinks his monetary band-aid will shut Tamils up, but it won’t. Again, we are not looking for money during this economic mess; we want a government with balls. Condemn the Sri Lankan government’s attacks, bring our ambassador home and impose sanctions on Sri Lankan goods.

Another thing, I’m not here to say that the blocking of University Avenue for a protest is the smartest idea. It is a road that is essential in bringing emergency services to hospitals nearby. However, unfortunately that is where the US consulate is located and if it were any other protest, I am sure my fellow Torontonians could accommodate. Tamils are tired of crying to our Canadian government officials who have given a deaf ear towards the cause. The next resort is to campaign towards President Obama, to get him to do something, and have our passive-aggressive government to follow suit like it always has.

So during your detour to work, think about the sacrifice you are making so that millions of civilians are saved from a deadly war. As for emergency response vehicles, Toronto police have and should continue to address the crowd and allow for accommodating lanes to be open. I am very grateful towards Toronto police as they show compassion and remain sturdy during such a difficult situation. Thank you.

So next time the Tamil rally pisses you off, stop and take a breath. Think, just for a second. If your family was in a country kilometres away being raped, killed and shelled, while your embracing nations’ government sat quiet…what would you do? Could you sit quiet at home, as reports of your people are being flooded into your head? Could you go to work efficiently thinking about your sisters and mothers being kidnapped and raped? Could you remain silent?

My fellow Canadian brethren, pray with me and if you can join me in bringing light to the issues of inequality and human suffering in Sri Lanka. But most of all, please don’t despise me for raising my voice. After all, I AM CANADIAN.

A full transcript follows.

Peter Forestell: Tamil protests continue today right here in Canada.  In fact, right now, crowds are gathered outside the Ontario legislature and the Sri Lankan consulate in downtown Toronto.  This comes after hundreds of protesters crowded onto Toronto’s Gardiner Expressway last night, stopping traffic for hours on one of Canada’s busiest highways.  Well, last night’s blockade comes after months of persistent protests by members of the Tamil community.   Joining me now to talk about that is Phillip Koneswaren.  He is the vice president of International Tamil Radio.  It broadcasts in Canada and in Europe.

Philip, good to see you.

Phillip Koneswaran: Thank you for having me here.

Peter Forestell: Let’s just begin by getting a sense of what – you have call-in shows, so you have a way to plug into the broader Tamil community in Canada, which is quite large — something around 250,000 people.  How would you describe the reaction within that broad community?  Is it unified?  Is there dissension there?

Phillip Koneswaran: Well, what I can say is that the Tamil community itself may be divided in how – in its political stance.  A majority of them will, as an example, support the LTTE, there may be some that don’t, and so on.  But I think I speak for all Tamils when I say that we’re uniformed in our stance against the killing of civilians in Sri Lanka.  What I mean by that is that over the last couple of months, we’ve seen an extreme rise in the number of deaths in civilians. That is both in the firing area as well as the so called safe regions, camps…  And what we’re trying to do through these protests is to bring some attention to the deaths of civilians.

Peter Forestell: So everyone is that unified, you would argue, in not wanting to see the further deaths of civilians –

Phillip Koneswaran: Oh absolutely.

Peter Forestell: But what about the situation of the Tamil Tigers, who are a separatist – a militant separatist group who have over the years carried out numerous suicide bombings and numerous attacks against the state of Sri Lanka.  Is there any uniformity in support for that organization?

Phillip Koneswaran: Well, yes, there is, because unfortunately at the moment, with the lack of the international community helping Tamil people, the only organization that has, that is standing up for the Tamils are the LTTE.  And it has been so for the last 30 years.  No one else has come forward to look at — “Hey, what’s happening in Sri Lanka?  What is happening to this clear minority?  Why are they going – disappearing?  Why do we never hear from people in prison?”  The LTE has been the only force that has been representing the Tamils.  I’m not saying that they should be the only ones.  I’m not saying that every Tamil supports them.  But this is the fact, that they have been the force that has been representing us.

Peter Forestell: When people call in to the radio call-in shows on your network, what are you hearing from them about the role of Canada in this whole… ?

Phillip Koneswaran: Well, see, Canada is home to about a quarter of a million Tamils.

Peter Forestell: Right.

Phillip Koneswaran: Although we are mostly all very Canadian, but, we are first, second generation Canadians, we have very, very strong ties to our homeland.  Many people have relatives, families, and so on that have disappeared, that have been killed in the recent months.  And our community here in Canada is under a lot of emotional stress right now.  We need the Government of Canada to step in and say, “Okay, we’re going to do the best we can to protect civilian lives in Sri Lanka.”

Peter Forestell: Well, we just had Bev Oda in Sri Lanka, the Minster responsible, she just came back, it just came up again in Parliament today.  What more could be reasonably expected of the Canadian government?

Phillip Koneswaran: I don’t think we’re asking for military action, definitely.  I think, as an example, in 2008, Canada itself did about 120 million dollars of exports to Sri Lanka and 300 and somewhat million dollars of imports from Sri Lanka.  What we’re asking, maybe is to put more pressure on the government to protect human rights and to minimize civilian deaths by means of financial embargoes, through diplomatic process.  We have a High Commissioner in Ottawa, and through him we can cause a lot of pressure for the Government of Sri Lanka to let them know –

Peter Forestell: It honestly doesn’t look like the Sri Lankan Government is going to listen to anyone right now with victory, from its vantage point, so close. It has the Tamil Tigers, the rump of the Tamil Tigers, confined to a 2 sq. mi. area.  They could conceivably wipe out that militant group –

Phillip Koneswaran: Absolutely, and I –

Peter Forestell: — within a matter of days, and be done with the problem, and then –

Phillip Koneswaran: Once again, I’m not going to put up an argument for why the LTTE should be saved.  But what I’m saying is –

Peter Forestell: How much more can the Canadian government do than [inaudible]

Phillip Koneswaran: For the civilians, I’m talking about the civilians.  I’m not talking about the LTTE.  What the political situation is between the Government of Sri Lanka and the LTTE is really an internal matter.  But what I’m talking about, it is a problem for us Canadian Tamils when we see our people in Sri Lanka being killed for any reason, whether it is because their government is trying to defeat the LTTE or otherwise, the fact is, the civilians are dying when the government has said, yesterday the government said that “not one civilian died in the weekend attacks”.  I mean, that’s a little difficult to believe.  I don’t think we need pictures.  And the second problem is, we’ve not had independent journalists or aid agencies allowed into the conflict zone.  And the question is: why?

Peter Forestell: They’ve been shut out of the region by the Sri Lankan Government.

Phillip Koneswaran: And the question is, why?

Peter Forestell: Just a final question, a very quick one, what has been most amazing here in Canada has been the level of organization.  How has that been possible?  How has it been possible to get hundreds of thousands of people –

Phillip Koneswaran: We’ve grown.  As a community, we’ve grown  over the last 30 years.  And we have our internal media — radio, television, newspaper, and so on.  And we get a lot of information on what is happening in Sri Lanka as opposed to what the mainstream community sees on mainstream media.  As an example, I see pictures and videos of civilians that –

Peter Forestell: That never make it on the air

Phillip Koneswaran: — have been killed.  That have been killed.  Exactly, exactly, and this never –  I think if, for a week, mainstream media were to publish everything that we see, you know, your questions may be different.  And the way Canada sees this would change.

Peter Forestell: Alright, Phillip, good talking to you.  Thank you.

Phillip Koneswaran: Thank you for having me.

Peter Forestell: Phillip Koneswaran is Vice President of International Tamil Radio.  It broadcasts in Canada and in Europe.

Christian Nadeau, Professeur au département de philosophie de l’Université de Montréal

Le Devoir

Édition du samedi 02 et du dimanche 03 mai 2009

Selon les Nations unies, 100 000 civils tentent ou ont tenté d’échapper à la zone des conflits depuis le début des hostilités au Sri Lanka le 20 avril. Ils sont pris en charge par le gouvernement dans des «camps de bien-être» que l’organisation Human Rights Watch a qualifiés de «camps d’internement» (Le Monde, 30 avril 2009).

La population tamoule est ainsi forcée à un exode sans précédent. Selon l’ONU, 6500 civils ont déjà perdu la vie en raison des combats, en plus de 14 000 blessés. En ces temps de grippe porcine, les préoccupations sanitaires voilent les yeux de la communauté internationale sur une tragédie à laquelle il faut à tout prix mettre un terme.

Dans cette sale guerre, chaque camp est coupable de crimes très graves, typiques des guerres civiles. L’armée tire à l’arme lourde sans discrimination entre les forces rebelles combattantes et les populations civiles, alors que les rebelles profitent impunément des boucliers humains que leur offrent malgré eux les civils dont les Tigres tamouls prétendent défendre les droits.

L’indifférence relative de la communauté internationale peut s’expliquer en partie par le manque d’information sur la situation. Depuis 2008, le gouvernement sri lankais interdit la présence, sur le front des combats entre rebelles et forces armées régulières, des journalistes, locaux ou étrangers. Il en va de même pour la majorité des organisations humanitaires. Ceci étant, cela n’excuse aucunement notre conduite. Nous savons que la situation est intolérable, inacceptable, et il est plus que temps d’agir.

Intervention canadienne

Il fut une époque où le gouvernement canadien représentait un allié indéfectible des efforts diplomatiques pour la paix dans le monde. Avec le gouvernement Harper, ces années semblent bien lointaines. Pourtant, les occasions sont nombreuses où le Canada pourrait intervenir auprès de ses partenaires économiques et politiques afin qu’une action diplomatique concertée freine la violence des conflits actuels.

Aujourd’hui, la population civile du Sri Lanka a besoin plus que jamais de l’aide de pays comme le Canada pour enrayer la mécanique belliqueuse qui coûte chaque jour plus cher en vies humaines. En outre, le Canada a une responsabilité particulière à l’égard de ce pays, car il abrite une très importante communauté tamoule, laquelle a fait entendre au pays sa dénonciation du caractère inique de la guerre entre le gouvernement et la rébellion des Tigres tamouls.

Il est grand temps également de procéder à d’importantes sanctions économiques contre le Sri Lanka, dont la guerre actuelle contre les rebelles fait fi des règles élémentaires en matière de droit de la guerre. Certes, le ministre Lawrence Cannon est intervenu récemment auprès des deux instances en conflit pour favoriser l’évacuation des civils pris en otages par les combats dans le nord-est du pays. Mais le problème actuel tient à l’inaction, sur le front diplomatique, du Conseil de sécurité de l’ONU, qui s’est contenté de déclarations vides d’autorité juridique.

Conseil de sécurité

Pour le moment, ni l’action du ministre des Affaires étrangères britannique, David Miliband, ni celle de son homologue français, Bernard Kouchner, ne sont parvenues à obtenir l’accord du Sri Lanka pour un cessez-le-feu avec les rebelles tamouls. La seule instance vraiment capable d’intervenir de manière efficace est le Conseil de sécurité de l’ONU, qui reste profondément divisé sur la question.

L’influence du Canada sur le Conseil ne saurait être décisive, mais elle doit s’ajouter aux nombreuses pressions en vue de modifier la perspective d’États comme la Chine et la Russie, pour lesquels est inacceptable toute ingérence dans les affaires internes d’une nation.

Les civils du Sri Lanka sont les dernières victimes de la rhétorique de la «guerre contre le terrorisme». Les règles fondamentales du jus in bello, ou du droit dans la guerre, sont ignorées en raison d’une logique selon laquelle les combats n’opposent pas deux factions militaires en bonne et due forme, mais une armée régulière et une organisation terroriste. Résultat: tous les coups sont permis, la fin justifiant les moyens. [...]

Une partie de l’inaction du Conseil s’explique par la volonté de non-ingérence de Moscou ou Pékin. Mais le sort des civils du Sri Lanka est aussi entre les mains de pays comme le Canada, dont l’opinion publique est peu mobilisée par rapport à la tragédie actuelle. Si le sens civique des Canadiens sortait de sa torpeur, cela pourrait peut-être enfin enclencher un nouvel effort diplomatique plus que jamais nécessaire pour que cesse cette guerre inique.

photo by freelancer RJ

The recent burst of mass mobilizations by sections of the Canadian-Tamil community in Toronto has brought to the fore several contradictions concerning the conflict in Sri Lanka and its presence in and connection to Canada. Mainstream media’s responses to the protests have been overwhelmingly racialist, exposing many of the limits of Canadian multiculturalism. In order for Canadian multiculturalism to accept any given group of people as a cultural community, it must define that group by differentiating it from a supposedly mainstream Canadian identity. This focalising Canadian identity—in effect a non-identity—is white and middle-class. Thus, when the Toronto Star publishes an editorial entitled “Protesters vs. the public” [1] it effectively notes that the protesters are not part of the public by pitting (Tamil) protesters against the (Canadian) public. Rather than focusing on the war, media outlets have focused on the inconvenience posed to commuters, thereby shifting attention away from deaths in Sri Lanka to traffic regulations in Canada. Consequently, responses to the protests have largely demonstrated pernicious xenophobia. For instance, in the Toronto Sun, Peter Worthington argues that not using excessive force (e.g., water cannons) against Tamil protesters who block streets is tantamount to “reverse racism” against white Canadians. [2]

But if the coverage of the protests has made certain contradictions about the performance of cultural politics in public spaces in Canada apparent, other contradictions about the negotiation of those politics within cultural communities have also been rendered largely invisible. The impetus comes, once again, from a multiculturalism that defines ethnic, immigrant identities against a supposedly mainstream, local one. The act of defining a cultural community necessarily ignores the cultural, economic, and political differences that exist within that community. When these differences are ignored, political representation to mainstream political actors (i.e. those in the government, political parties, and state apparatuses) is mediated by non-elected, self-appointed community “leaders” who may not, and often do not, capture all cultural and political differences. In fact, the very articulation of those differences is precluded: a-cultural white English-speaking Canadians may lean left or right as individuals, or as voting blocs based on class and region, but the articulation of such political differences is absent in the representations of the politics of minority communities. The responses of politicians, activists, journalists, police and vocal sections of the public to the rallies protesting the war provide key examples of this.

The responses of politicians and police officials who addressed themselves to “the Tamil community” falsely suggest that all the protesters were Tamil and that all of Toronto’s Tamils supported the protests. The paternalism of Mayor David Miller’s deciding to tell “the Tamil community” what it “needs to hear from us” [3] (whoever “us” is) feeds into the blatant racism expressed by other elements of the public. Thus, for instance, in The Globe & Mail Christie Blatchford uses the demonstrations to question not just protest tactics, but also the immigration policies that, according to her, have led to the presence of a worryingly large number of Tamils in Toronto. [4]

Parallel to Miller’s homogenization, though coming from the opposite direction, veteran dissident leftist Judy Rebick notes on her blog that, “in a brilliant action, the Tamil community [...] climbed the on ramp on to the Gardiner Expressway [...] and sat down blockading traffic for several hours.” [5] While the action, as an object lesson in activist tactics, was brilliant, one can say with certainty that “the Tamil community” neither climbed onto nor sat down on the Gardiner. Rather, a more correct terminology would be what Rebick subsequently calls “a group of Tamil activists.” The tenor of her blog post, however, confirms that she views the Tamil community in homogenous terms. She goes so far as to end her post with the note that “we are all Tamils,” a statement that is problematic on two grounds. First, working in solidarity with others requires acknowledging the lived differences that separate us so that we might use those differences for the purposes of justice, rather than discounting them out of an unhelpfully over-forced empathy. Second, that kind of statement presupposes that there is only one kind of Tamil identity, which everyone else can access. Yet if Tamilness is an identity constructed solely on the basis of one’s presence at or support for the protests, not even all Tamils can be called such.

If Toronto’s Tamil population is being flattened into one homogenized entity by politicians and many leftist activists, that process is certainly not being opposed by some sections of Toronto’s Tamil community. The Canadian Tamil Congress, one of Toronto’s more prominent Tamil political groups, notes that it is “the unified voice of Canada’s 300,000 Tamils.” [6] Its FAQ page shows that it ascribes to all Sri Lankan Tamils the desire for a separate homeland (Tamil Eelam). [7] The history and current reality of a diversity of non-communal and Tamil organizations and individuals within and without Sri Lanka, with varying goals and political objectives—and varying definitions of self-determination for Tamil people—is elided by this construction of Tamil identity. It is impossible for the CTC to be the unified voice of Tamils when Tamils don’t have a unified voice. In other words, to return to Rebick’s rallying cry, we are not all Tamil, if only because there is no one Tamil identity we can be.

At many of the protests, the LTTE-designed national flag of Tamil Eelam (which shares the Tiger emblem) has been a prominent fixture, LTTE soldiers have been venerated as freedom fighters, the prospect of Eelam has been seen as a necessary solution to the war, and LTTE leader Velupillai Prabhakaran has been venerated as a national leader. While this set of views may be influential and even hegemonic within Toronto’s Tamil diaspora, it is not universal. Just as the actions of many of the Tamil demonstrators are not and cannot be the actions of “the Tamil community,” so too are the opinions expressed at these demonstrations not those of “the Tamil community.” In fact, those are not even necessarily the views of all of the protesters present at the rallies, but dissenting, non-LTTE views are not being heard.

To signal toward complexity and difference within Tamil communities is not to deny the Sinhala ethnic chauvinism of the government of Sri Lanka; its use of undemocratic and authoritarian practices to crush dissent; or its use of mass murder, ethnic cleansing and internal colonization against Sri Lankan Tamils. Nor is it to deny that militant Tamil nationalism in Sri Lanka has largely been a response to the systematized and legislated discrimination of the Sri Lankan state. The LTTE is, in fact, a legitimate national resistance movement and was—until recently— the de facto governing entity in several parts of Sri Lanka. However, in its progress towards and current operation of that position, it too has often represented an ideology of ethno-religious chauvinism; has used undemocratic and authoritarian practices to crush resistant views and movements–including against dissident Tamils; and has used mass murder, ethnic cleansing and internal colonization against Muslims. The point here is not that the LTTE is just as bad as the government of Sri Lanka—which many Sri Lankans, Tamils and otherwise, think it is—but that a critical left view cannot support the LTTE, except tactically in opposition to the oppression of the Sri Lankan state. Nor can it support the LTTE’s ideology or practice. Thus, the assumption should not be made that support for Tamils in opposition to Sri Lankan state oppression is consonant with support for the LTTE.

It is important that critical leftists in Canada take concrete steps, working with members of the Tamil population and the Sri Lankan population more broadly, to bring to an end the oppression being perpetrated by the Sri Lankan state, but without steamrolling the complexities of the conflict and those affected by it. We must stand for an end to Sri Lankan state aggression, but also for an end to the LTTE’s aggression toward dissident and minority groups. Toward these ends, some concrete steps we should seek to take include:

1. Demand an immediate and permanent ceasefire.

Critical leftists must stand up for the thousands being massacred in Sri Lanka. To this end, we should engage with supporters of the LTTE and others in demanding an immediate, permanent, and confirmable bilateral ceasefire. Protests calling on the Canadian government to take an active role in bringing about such a ceasefire are important and should be supported, though not uncritically.

2. Oppose the complacency and racism of the Canadian state, media and vocal sections of the general public; and oppose police violence.

The Canadian government continues to turn a blind eye to the conflict, tacitly supporting the Sri Lankan state’s actions. Politicians at all levels have spoken to “the Tamil community” in condescending ways. The media has focused more on the plight of commuters inconvenienced by the rallies than on the thousands of dying civilians. Many Canadian citizens have expressed their xenophobia calling upon Tamils to “go back home”.

Meanwhile, at the rallies, protestors have on several occasions been literally caged into tight areas and police officers have often used excessive force on them. Protestors have been arrested merely for speaking out,8 and, at times, have been brutalized with no provocation.9,10

Police violence and the complacence and racism of Canadian foreign politics, the media and vocal sections of the general public must be opposed loudly and forcefully.

3. Push for a political solution.

This conflict has no military solution. Critical leftists must not stop at the call for a ceasefire, but also push for a comprehensive political settlement that involves more than just the Sinhala-dominant Sri Lankan state and the LTTE. There are many more legitimate representatives of Tamil (including Tamil-speaking Muslim) aspirations and political views than the LTTE, whom the LTTE has repressed. Support must be given to them. However, there can also be no political settlement without the involvement of the LTTE.

The Canadian government does not label organizations as terrorist on the basis of objective criteria, but politically opportunistic ones. Moreover, designating certain groups as terrorist does little to clarify conflict situations, but more often obscures issues. Canada’s banning the Tigers as terrorists suggests that the problem of Sri Lankan Tamil nationalism is not one of discrimination and disenfranchisement, but of immeasurable violence and terrorism, and that therefore the solution to this conflict must inevitably and solely come through the military elimination of said terrorist group. Critical leftists, however, must remain firm that any long-term and viable solution to the Sri Lankan conflict cannot be military; it must involve a political settlement.

4. Work toward cross-ethnic solidarity.

Following from the support for repressed and marginalized voices, critical leftists must promote cross-ethnic solidarities in Sri Lanka and in the Sri Lankan diaspora. The fictions of ethnic homogeneity constructed by Sinhala nationalism and by Tamil nationalism must be punctured and repudiated. This does not mean an opposition to the principle of self-determination. Yet however the majority of Tamils in Sri Lanka choose to define self-determination, a lasting peace has to be based on the recognition of the vast complexity, intermingling, and transcendence of ethnic boundaries that constantly occurs in Sri Lanka – both in Sinhalese-dominated and in Tamil-dominated areas. Non-communal political formations must be supported.

To that end, critical leftists in Canada should work towards facilitating the kinds of cross-ethnic solidarity movements and conversations that have been mostly foreclosed by the terroristic strategies employed in Sri Lanka by the armed forces and by the LTTE. While acknowledging and addressing the limitations of Canadian multicultural policies here, we need to capitalise on our distance from the conflict, and the relative peace afforded by that distance (however racialised and restricted it is), to facilitate dialogue.

5. Oppose the Sri Lankan state; criticize the LTTE.

Successive Sinhala ethnic chauvinist governments have precipitated the crisis in Sri Lanka. They continue to do so with impunity. Critical leftists must be absolute in their opposition to the ethnic chauvinism and practical depredations of the parties controlling the Sri Lankan state. The Sri Lankan state has been one of the most significant obstacles toward the achievement of a lasting peace.

At the same time, the LTTE has used civilians as human shields and has engaged in forced conscription. It must be therefore also be criticized and its particular human rights violations not excused or glossed over.

6. Oppose the role of international imperialism in the conflict.

The ideology of twenty-first century imperialism is manifest worldwide. In particular, in South Asia, the discourses of “wars on terror” in Afghanistan, Pakistan and India are smokescreens for governments and imperial actors like NATO and the United States to obscure real, legitimate and popular grievances by focusing instead on military campaigns. This is precisely the strategy currently being used by the state in Sri Lanka against its local Tamil grievances. Furthermore, the Sri Lankan state receives military aid from, among others, Pakistan and Israel—lackeys of American empire. China, too, in increasing its international political reach, has steadily provided arms and funding to Sri Lanka for several years. India has also played a major role through its intervention or absence of intervention, in line with its hegemonic designs in South Asia.

The international dimensions of the conflict are too complex to be examined in detail here. However, we should engage in further study of the international dimension of the conflict as well, for in resisting the violence of the Sri Lankan state, as critical leftists, we are also taking a stance against certain operations of international imperialism. We must recognize, however, that ultimately the problem is one of Sinhala ethnic chauvinism and the lack of meaningful political representation of national minorities in Sri Lanka.

In conclusion, it is important to note that these six items should be regarded as points of departure for critical leftists. By no means is this a conclusive programme on how activists in Canada, whatever their ethnicity or personal connection to the war, should approach the conflict. That sort of conversation is much more difficult, and must be had in conjunction with all the members of Canada’s Sri Lankan diaspora, including its Sinhalese, Tamil, and Muslim communities.
—-
Noaman Ali is a teaching assistant at York University and a member of CUPE 3903. Fathima Cader is a Colombo-born Tamil Muslim who spent five weeks in April and May 2009 in Sri Lanka. She is a law student at the University of British Columbia.

We are writing to express our grave concerns about the humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in the “safe zone” in the Vanni region of Sri Lanka. Most independent observers estimate that more than 200,000 Tamil civilians, many already displaced multiple times, have been under siege in the tiny coastal strip with at least 50,000 still there. Confirmed reports indicate that more than 4000 civilians, including 700 children, have been killed since January 2009.

Displaced persons who have managed to flee the fighting have been placed in de facto detention camps by the Sri Lankan government where they are denied freedom of movement, in contravention of international standards. There are over 40,000 displaced people being held in 13 sites in the Vavuniya District in overcrowded conditions without adequate access to healthcare, food and water. There are reports of rape, torture and killings in the camps (Medico International, Germany, April 16, 2009). Civilians who are suspected of LTTE ties have been taken into government custody, leading to fears of enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings, tactics the government and its allied militias have employed in significant numbers over the past few years (Amnesty International, ASA 37/004/2009).

Recent artillery attacks by Sri Lankan forces have indiscriminately targeted civilians and civilian objects, in contravention of international humanitarian law. There are credible reports that the Sri Lankan army may be using illegal cluster bombs as well as thermobaric bombs in the safe zone with high civilian casualties. There have been more than two dozen incidents of artillery shelling or aerial bombardment on or near hospitals, in flagrant violation of the Geneva Conventions. The presence of wounded combatants in hospitals does not turn them into legitimate targets. Deliberately attacking a hospital is a war crime. At the same time we deplore the LTTE’s forcible recruitment of civilians, including children, for untrained military duty and for labour in the combat zones as well as its practice of forcing civilians to retreat with its forces, deliberately preventing civilians under its effective control from fleeing to safety. Nevertheless, violations of the laws of war by one side to a conflict do not justify violations by the opposing side. They do not permit the indiscriminate use of force by the Sri Lankan forces in response (Human Rights Watch, 20 Februrary 2009).

The overall human rights situation in Sri Lanka has deteriorated dramatically since the current government assumed power in 2006. The Sri Lankan government has utilized the “war on Terror” as a cover to systematically destroy all democratic processes and institutions. Sri Lanka was ranked 165th out of 173 countries in the ‘Reporters Without Borders’ 2008 press freedom index, the lowest ranking of any democratic country. Political opponents and journalists with critical views are subject to threats, intimidation and assassination. The culture of impunity has been institutionalized. In an effort to shield its own actions from public scrutiny, the Sri Lankan government has barred most humanitarian agencies, independent observers and journalists from the conflict zones. As a result there is a lack of timely information about the situation of the trapped civilians as well as severe shortfalls in humanitarian assistance.

The government of Sri Lanka continues to justify its actions as necessary to achieve an imminent victory over “Tamil terrorism.” However, as long as the human rights of the Tamil minority are subject to systematic violation, the conflict will persist and the LTTE will garner support from Tamils in both Sri Lanka and the diaspora, despite its proscription by various Western countries, including Canada.

There is a critical need for international solidarity in the face of this immediate catastrophe. We believe that the government of Canada has a special responsibility to act to bring about an end to violations of international law and to make a significant contribution to a political resolution of this conflict. As host to the largest Tamil diaspora outside of Sri Lanka, Canada should assume a proactive role in promoting and supporting efforts aimed at resolving the legitimate grievances of the Tamil people including recognition of their right to selfdetermination.

The world-wide Tamil diaspora is strongly represented and plays an important role in the life of many of our cities; their concerns should be our concerns too. The previous government supported an advisory role for the Canadian Forum of Federations in Sri Lanka while the current government appointed a representative to the International Independent Group of Eminent Persons (IIGEP) with a mandate to observe investigations into human rights abuses (the IIGEP withdrew from Sri Lanka in March 2008 in the face of Sri Lanka’s failure to meet even the basic minimum standards in probing rights abuses). Canada is uniquely positioned to reactivate and support such constructive forms of engagement.

We therefore call on the Government of Canada to:

• Work with both parties to the conflict to implement an immediate and comprehensive ceasefire.
• Urge the International community and the UN to take responsibility for the protection of Tamil civilians.
• Urge the UN Security Council to authorize timely and decisive measures to halt mass atrocities in the Vanni region of Sri Lanka, including the dispatch of a special envoy to the region, and the creation of a commission of inquiry into crimes under international law committed by any person or entity.
• Demand that the government of Sri Lanka remove restrictions imposed on access to the conflict zone for humanitarian workers and media and permit international observers in the detention camps.
• Demand that the LTTE allow civilians to continue to leave the conflict area.
• Initiate internationally mediated efforts aimed at achieving a durable political solution to the conflict in Sri Lanka.

Signed by:
Sharry Aiken, Professor, Faculty of Law, Queen’s University
Tariq Amin-Khan, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Politics, Ryerson University
Malcolm Blincow, Associate Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, York University
R. Cheran, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Windsor
Glynnis George, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Windsor
Shubhra Gururani, Associate Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, York University
Judy Rebick, Professor, Gindin Chair in Social Justice and Democracy, Ryerson University
Craig Scott, Professor of Law, & Director, Nathanson Centre on Transnational Human Rights, Crime and Security, Osgoode Hall Law School
Alan Sears, Associate Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Ryerson University
Aparna Sundar, Assistant Professor, Dept of Politics, Ryerson University

THE ABOVE ARE THE MEMBERS OF THE GROUP.

The statement is signed by:

Nuzhat Abbas, Writer
Darshan Ambalavanar, Visiting fellow, Centre for South Asian Studies, University of Toronto
Maita Abola Sayo, Dept. of Political Science, York University
Greg Albo, Professor, Dept. Political Science, York University
Melissa Autumn White, Graduate Program in Women’s Studies, York University
Benjamin Baader, Assistant Professor, Dept. of History, University of Manitoba
Zaheer Baber, Professor, Dept. of Sociology, University of Toronto
Reem Bahdi, Professor, Faculty of Law, University of Windsor
Tanya Basok, Director, Centre for Studies in Social Justice, University of Windsor
Andrew Biro, Assistant Professor, Canada Research Chair in Political Ecology and
Environmental Political Theory, Dept. of Political Science, Acadia University
Raoul Boulakia, Lawyer, Avocat
Mark Bradley, Religious Studies, UQAM
Mike Burke, Associate Professor, Dept. of Politics, Ryerson University
Laura Cameron, Associate Professor and Canada Research Chair, Dept. Geography, Queen’s University
Tanya Chung Tiam Fook, York University
Francis Cody, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, University of Toronto
Janet Conway, Associate Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Brock University
Kendra Coulter, Dr., Dept. of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Windsor
Carol Lynne D’Arcangelis, Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, University of Toronto
Radhika Desai, Professor, Dept. of Political Studies, University of Manitoba
Susan Drummond, Professor, Osgoode Hall Law School, York University
Robin E. Feenstra, Dr., Dept. of English, McGill University
Christoph Emmrich, Assistant Professor, Buddhist Studies, University of Toronto
Bryan Evans, Associate Professor, Dept. of Politics and public administration, Ryerson University
Pascale Fournier, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Law, University of Ottawa
Evan Fox-Decent, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Law, McGill University
Victoria Freeman, Dept. of History, University of Toronto
Doreen Fumia, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Ryerson University
Grace-Edward Galabuzi, Associate Professor, Dept. of Politics, Ryerson University
Glynis George, Associate Professor, Department of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Windsor
Wenona Giles, Professor, School of Social Sciences, Atkinson Faculty, York University
Sam Gindin, Formar research director, York University
Harry Glasbeek, Professor Emeritus and Senior Scholar, Professor Emeritus and Senior Scholar, Osgoode Hall Law School, York University
Ellen Goldberg, Professor, Dept. of Religious Studies, Queen’s University
Rebecca Granovsky-Larsen, Ryerson University
Ricardo Grinspun, Associate Professor, Dept. of Economics, York University
Bill Graham, Former Canadian Foreign Minister and Chancellor of Trinity College, University of Toronto
Gayle Gross, The NIA Group, LLC
Victoria Gross, The NIA Group, LLC
Tania Das Gupta, Chair and Associate Professor, Atkinson Faculty of Liberal and Professional Studies, York University
Tanya Gulliver, York University
Denise Hammond, President, CUPE 1281
Barbara Jackman, Lawyer, Jackman & Associates, barristers and solicitors
Jack Layton, Federal Leader, Canada`s New Democrats and Member of Parliament for Toronto-Danforth
Kajri Jain, Assistant Professor, Centre for Visual and Media Culture, University of Toronto
Amina Jamal, Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Ryerson University
Donna Jeffery, Associate Professor, School of Social Work, University of Victoria
Ilan Kapoor, Associate Professor, Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University
RM Kennedy, Vice President, Centennial College
Stefan Kipfer, Associate Professor, Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University
Samantha King, Assistant Professor, School of Physical Health and Education, Queen’s University
Gary Kinsman, Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Laurentian University
Mustafa Koc, Associate Professor, Dept. of Sociology, Ryerson University
Joy Kogawa, Writer
Jane Ku, Assistant Professor, Sociology & Anthropology/ Women’s Studies, University of Windsor
Anton Kuerti, Pianist
Lee Lakeman, Vancouver Rape Relief and Women’s Shelter
Genevieve LeBaron, Dept. International political economy, York University
N. Gitanjali Lena, lawyer, Lawyer
E. MacDonald, Associate Professor, Dept. of Political Studies, Queen’s University
Audrey Macklin, Professor, Faculty of Law, University of Toronto
Ali Mallah, VP Ontario, Canadian Peace Alliance/Canadian Arab Federation
Elizabeth May, Leader, Green Party of Canada
Susan McGrath, Associate Professor, School of Social Work, York University
Pat McKendry, York University
Susan McNaughton, Dept. of Social Anthropology, York University
Adele Mercier, Professor, Dept. of Philosophy, Queen’s University
Nchamah Miller, Network of Latin American Investigators for Democracy and Peace
Srimoyee Mitra, South Asian Visual Arts Centre
Kevin Moloney, Dept of Languages, Literatures & Linguistics, York University
Colin Mooers, Professor, Graduate Program in Communication and Culture, Ryerson University
Khaled Mouammar, National President, Canadian Arab Federation
Katharine N. Rankin, Associate Professor, Dept. of Geography, University of Toronto
Mary-Jo Nadeau, Lecturer, Dept. of Sociology, Trent University
Mera Nirmalan-Nathan, Ontario Public Interest Research Group
Peter Nyers, Associate Professor, Politics of Citizenship and Intercultural Relations, McMaster University
Obiora Okafor, Professor, Osgoode Hall Law School, York University
Leo Panitch, Canada Research Chair in Comparative Political Economy and
Distinguished Research Professor of Political Science, York University
Stephen Pender, Associate Professor, Director of Humanities Research Group, University of Windsor
Steve Pitt, Writer
Deepa Rajkumar, Dept. Political Science, York University
Srilata Raman, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Religion, University of Toronto
Narda Razack, Associate Professor, School of Social Work, York University
Darryl Robinson, Assistant Professor, Faculty of Law, Queen’s University
Stephanie Ross, Assistant Professor, “Labour Studies Programme, Division of Social Science”, York University
Carole Roy, Dept. of Adult Education, St. Francis Xavier University
Bruce Ryder, Professor, Osgoode Hall Law School, York University
Andre Schmid, Associate Professor, Dept. of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto
Mitu Sengupta, Dept. of Politics and Public Administration, York University
Tyler Shipley, Dept. of Political Science, York University
Sadeqa Siddiqui, Coordonnatrice, Centre Communautaire des Femmes Sud-Asiatique
Preethy Sivakumar, Department of Anthropology, York University
Haema Sivanesan, Director, South Asian Visual Arts Centre
Jamie Smith, Programme in Social and Political Thought, York University
Susanne Soederberg, Associate Professor, Department of Global Development Studies, Queen’s University
Donald Swartz, Associate Professor, School of Public Policy & Administration, Carleton University
Cheryl Teelucksingh, Professor, Sociology Dept., Ryerson University
Vimalesan Thasan, Lecturer, York University
Nishant Upadhyay, Department of Social and Political Thought, York University
Ravi Vaitheespara, Associate Professor, Dept. of History, University of Manitoba
Chris Vance, Political science, York University
Heather Vidito, 905 Vaughan Bargaining Unit Chair, 905 Vaughan Bargaining Unit Chair, CUPE
Karen Walker, Dept. of Social and Political Thought, York University
Rosemary Warskett, Associate Professor, Dept. of Law, Carleton University
Mel Watkins, Professor Emeritus, Dept. of Economics, University of Toronto
Sujith Xavier, Osgoode Hall Law School, York University
Jesse Zimmerman, New Democrats, York University

Endorsed By:

Chris Arumainayagam, Chair and Professor of Chemistry, Wellesley College
Elizabeth Allen, Massey University
Anne M. Blackburn, Associate Professor, Dept. of Asian Studies, Cornell University
Piya Chatterjee, Associate Professor, Dept of women’s studies, University of California Riverside
B. J. Cherayil, MD, Associate Professor of Pediatrics, Harvard Medical School
Lawrence Cohen, Professor, Dept. of Medical Anthropology, University of California – Berkeley
E. Valentine Daniel, Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, Columbia University
Öivind Fuglerud, Professor, Dept. of Ethnography, University of Oslo
Anita Hillestad, billedkunstner, Anita Hillestad
Gnana K. Bharathy, Assistant Professor, Dept. of Engineering Management & Systems Engineering, Old Dominion University
Ronald E. Kleinman, MD, Charles Wilder Professor of Pediatrics, Harvard Medical School
Paul Knight, “East Asian Studies Dept., School of Languages”, Massey University
Jonas M.N. Sørensen, Writer
Ram Mahalingam, Associate Professor, Dept. of Psychology, University of Michigan
Sunaina Maira, Associate Professor, Asian American Studies, University of California – Davis
Dennis McGilvray, Associate Professor and Chair, Dept. of Anthropology, University of Colorado at Boulder
J.B.P. More, Deputy Director, Institute for Research in Social Sciences and Humanities, Institute for Research in Social Sciences and Humanities
Kathleen Morley, Professor, “Comparative Religion, IKOS”, University of Oslo
Madhusree Mukerjee, Writer, The author of “The Land of Naked People”
Tove Nicolaisen, Professor, The Faculty of Education and International Studies, University of Oslo
Lalsangkima Pachuau, Associate Professor, Director of Postgraduate Studies, Asbury Theological Seminary
Samuel Rabkin, Associate Professor of Surgery, Harvard Medical School
Peter Schalk, Professor, Dept. of History of Religions, Uppsala University
Janikke Solstad Vedeler, Norwegian Social Research
Margaret Trawick, Professor, Dept. of Social Anthropology, Massey University
Margaret Trawick, Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, Massey University
Padma Venkataraman, MANGAI – Theatreperson
Sita Venkateswar, Social Anthropology Programme, Sita Venkateswar
Siva Sivaganesan, Professor, Department of Mathematical Sciences, Univesity of Cincinnati
Mark Whitaker, Professor, Dept. of Anthropology, University of South Carolina

Opening statement at the May 6, 2009 press conference:

Good morning everyone, and thank you for coming. We are a group called Canadian Academics for Tamil Rights who put together a statement to the Prime Minister which attracted over 125 signatures from across Canada last week. While initially directed mainly at Canadian academics across the country, we also received signatures from several prominent Canadians from other walks of life.

Our aim in issuing this statement was to call on the Canadian Government to take a stand on the situation in Sri Lanka. As you are well aware, Tamil civilians in the so-called “safe zone” are facing a brutal assault. There are still some 100,000 civilians under siege in the tiny coastal strip. Confirmed reports indicate that more than 6,500 civilians, including 700 children, have been killed since January 2009.

The conditions for those who have escaped this war zone are no better. Displaced persons who have managed to flee the fighting have been placed in de facto detention camps by the Sri Lankan government where they are denied freedom of movement, in contravention of international standards.

The overall human rights situation in Sri Lanka has deteriorated dramatically since the current government assumed power in 2006. The Sri Lankan government has utilized the “war on Terror” as a cover to systematically destroy all democratic processes and institutions. Sri Lanka was ranked 165th out of 173 countries in the ‘Reporters Without Borders’ 2008 press freedom index, the lowest ranking of any democratic
country.

It is especially worrying that, in an effort to shield its own actions from public scrutiny, the Sri Lankan government has barred most humanitarian agencies, independent observers and journalists from the conflict zones. As a result there is a lack of timely information about the situation of the trapped civilians as well as severe shortfalls in humanitarian assistance.

We believe that the government of Canada has a special responsibility to act to bring about an end to violations of international law and to make a significant contribution to a political resolution of this conflict.

As host to the largest Tamil diaspora outside of Sri Lanka, Canada should assume a proactive role in promoting and supporting efforts aimed at resolving the legitimate grievances of the Tamil people including recognition of their right to self-determination. The Tamil community plays an important role in the life of many of our cities; their concerns should be our concerns too.

The previous government supported an advisory role for the Canadian Forum of Federations in Sri Lanka while the current government appointed a representative to the International Independent Group of Eminent Persons (IIGEP) with a mandate to observe investigations into human rights abuses (the IIGEP withdrew from Sri Lanka in March 2008 in the face of Sri Lanka’s failure to meet even the basic minimum standards in probing rights abuses). Canada is uniquely positioned to reactivate and support such constructive forms of engagement.

We therefore call on the Government of Canada to:

• Work with both parties to the conflict to implement an immediate and comprehensive ceasefire.
• Urge the International community and the UN to take responsibility for the protection of Tamil civilians.
• Urge the UN Security Council to authorize timely and decisive measures to halt mass atrocities in the Vanni region of Sri Lanka, including the dispatch of a special envoy to the region, and the creation of a commission of inquiry into crimes under international law committed by any person or entity.
• Demand that the government of Sri Lanka remove restrictions imposed on access to the conflict zone for humanitarian workers and media and permit international observers in the detention camps.
• Demand that the LTTE allow civilians to continue to leave the conflict area.
• Initiate internationally mediated efforts aimed at achieving a durable political solution to the conflict in Sri Lanka.

We were encouraged to see that Minister Oda went to SL, and would like to see Canada’s involvement continue. In particular, we wonder if the aid being promised will be made conditional on a ceasefire, which so far the SL government has refused to declare.

We have been moved and impressed with the level of sustained mobilization by the Tamil community in the past few months. Many of those most active in these mobilizations are our students, and we know from talking to them how almost every one of them has suffered a personal loss. We believe it is time to act, and to tell our government that our Tamil brothers and sisters are not alone in their concern for their families in Sri Lanka.