Currently, Muslim villages in Mannar are completely decimated, with almost no trace of the once robust and lively dwellings. Where once tall buildings stood and people mingled, trees have grown, and elephants and snakes have made their dwellings. As in the case of the men we met, the onus of restoring their lives is on those returning, even though restoring translates to transforming a jungle into a village. Assistance from the government is meager and slow in delivery. Institutions move at a slow pace and are handicapped in resources and efficiency. Therefore, severing links with Puttalam, the area  that embraced the Northern Muslims when they were ‘orphaned’ has to be postponed.  Sometimes, people have to earn in Puttalam to support agricultural work in Mannar, and until the ‘men’ of the families build suitable structures that are comfortable and secure for living, the women have to remain in Puttalam.  In this regard, the opening of the road connecting Puttalam and Mannar, has been a great support to the Northern Muslims.

However the opening of the road has become a controversial issue. Prior to the war, access to this road was restricted to private vehicles, and was commonly used by residents of Musali and Mannar as it significantly reduced travel time between Mannar- Musali and Puttalam.  The direct road shrinks the distance from Puttalam to Mannar from 210 km to 143km, from Puttalam to Musali from 185km to 100km and from Puttalam to Marichchukaddi from 235km to 77km.  Moreover  expelled Northern Muslims from other districts  also  benefit from this road, as it also connects to the Jaffna Road. Citing the need to preserve the Wilpattu National park, through which this road passes, wild life enthusiasts argue against the opening of the road. While conservation of wild life is an important consideration, the welfare of a marginalized group of people who have suffered immensely for over two decades needs immediate attention. As stated above, the road would greatly reduce the inconvenience the returning Northern Muslims would have to undergo when travelling to and from Mannar and adjacent areas.  In the context of the potential harm to the wild life of the national park, the commission appointed to probe into the expulsion of the Northern Muslims recommends a mechanism where access is granted by special permission to residents of adjacent areas for private vehicles only. Additionally, they suggest that access could be granted on a limited basis and that too at a cost, which would further restrict the use of the road. If entry to the road is barred, the people from Musali (an area immediately North of Wilpattu National Park) especially would have to travel North to Medawachiya and then travel back South to their area (Daily Mirror 25.06.2010).

The Northern Muslims were expelled with barely 48 hours notice in Mannar and just a couple of hours notice in Jaffna. They arrived in Puttalam with at most, a shopping bag full of possessions. Along with the psychological trauma of being expelled, they had to endure much hardship during their time in Puttalam. Two decades later, some of them are happy with what they have accomplished in spite of the suffering they underwent as displaced people; their hardwork and efforts have yielded material assets for themselves, as well as intangibles such as hope for a better future for their children through good education. However, for some, home is still in the North. Therefore, whatever may be their material possessions in Puttalam, they are still longing to return and resettle in their original places. The lack of assistance, both financial and non-material, is a significant barrier. Having invested their money in assets in Puttalam, they do not have cash to spend on starting life a new in the North. Building a second or third house during their life-time, is not an option for them, although housing remains an essential requirement. Therefore aid from the government or other organizations is a great need at present.

For some others, home is still the North, yet, the attachment, at this point, is only emotional. The assets they have acquired, and the lifestyle they have adapted in Puttalam, are too much to abandon. The thought of starting life from ground zero in a place where war has razed all signs of human habitation is enough to eliminate the option of returning. Poor quality of schools and availability of teachers, the severe scarcity of water and the dearth of economic opportunities add to their decision to stay back. Furthermore, some evicted Muslims are wary of their Tamil neighbours whose supposed representatives evicted them, in an act of ‘ethnic cleansing’ and assert that they do not want to make themselves vulnerable, and ‘at risk’ of being hurt again. Social dynamics that play an important role in a society have been severely disturbed and shattered. Trusted neighbours and friends who formed the community are no more. Even if people resettle in the presence of suitable infrastructure, the absence of a community that they could trust, make people wonder if resettling is a wise decision.

The twenty years that have lapsed since the expulsion has changed the landscapes in many different ways. For the displaced and the officials concerned, solving land issues is a major challenge. At the height of the war when there were no signs of peace, and life in the camps was cruel, some of the Northern Muslims sold their land, for much needed cash with the hope of a better life. Since the war is history now, those who sold their land are landless, and realize that the prices at which they sold their land are way below the actual value. However, they are unable to reverse the transactions and reclaim their land or obtain a better price for their assets already sold. They feel, therefore, that they sold their land under duress, and are entitled to compensation. In the last two decades, the population has expanded and as a result, a shortage of land in the North is inevitable, and this creates a road block for ‘return’. A filtering process of some form is necessary to determine who returns and who stays back. The people also request that the government distribute land to enable them to make an easier transition to the North.

Some who own land in the North find it difficult to claim it because of the lack of deeds and because physical boundaries and landmarks have erased or blurred over time. Due to the adversities faced during the expulsion, the journey from the North and life in displacement, some have no documents to prove ownership. Some that had permits and the promise of deeds at the time of the expulsion are unsure of their status. In some cases, authorities abuse their power and manipulate ownership and boundaries of land according to  personal interests thereby giving rise to conflicts among the communities. Many Northern Muslims felt that other than in exceptional instances, many local level representatives of government authorities were unsympathetic to their aspiration to return.

Although the practice of giving dowry was not common to Muslims of all Northern districts, as a consequence of the expulsion and the blending of various groups, it has become a popular practice. This increases the need to solve problems related to boundaries and ownership of land, as marriages are dependant on dowry. Some are adamant to resolve the resettlement process, not for their own return, but to have clear ownership of land, so that they can offer the land as dowry and arrange a marriage for their  daughters.

Due to security reasons, the state has claimed land in various parts of the North and demarcated ‘high security zones’. Some of this land is private land, and some of it is state property with important public institutions within its boundaries. For example, in Silavatura, the hospital, school and Pradeshiya Sabha building are trapped in the high security zone barring access to civilians.

The state policy for return and resettlement is not clear, it varies from district to district, and provides no structured framework within which all institutions and people can act. Government officials of some districts have been instructed to give land to those displaced in the recent years, neglecting groups such as the Northern Muslims who were displaced much before that. The expelled people sometimes compare themselves to those affected by the Tsunami.  They feel that their suffering was of a similar magnitude, yet, the compensation and assistance was much less. In the last twenty years only two housing projects have been put in place by the state for the displaced; the mid 1990s initiatives under Minister M.H.M Ashraff and the current World Bank housing project. Communication lines between the state and displaced civilians are also very weak. In some instances, the people are unaware of the status of their original land in the North (whether or not it is demined and if it is ready for habitation). The lack of assistance from the government for resettlement is one of the biggest complaints the people have. Rations, which is the only form of stable assistance they have had from the government, since expulsion, has also come to indicate the ‘status’ of the people. There are currently many problems associated with return and the access to rations. Those who are interested in returning have been informed that the first step is to discontinue rations in Puttalam.  After they cut off access to rations in Puttalam, accessing rations in the North has become a huge problem. Some who followed these instructions complain that it has been a year since, and they are yet to receive any form of alternative assistance  in their hometown in the North.

Living with disappointment, hurt, betrayal, sadness and despair, the end of the war ignited a spark in the hearts of the displaced Northern Muslims and offered them a light of hope. Yet, the flame is faint and quivering. The people who fill themselves with the grandiose plans and miraculous transformation of lives that   politicians spew generously on podiums become frustrated when the corresponding institutions stay mute. In the presence of inaction on the part of authorities, the people  take it upon themselves as the men I spoke of in the first paragraph did, and utilize the remnants of energy, hope, and resources that are left after twenty years of suffering.

Words of hope are not sufficient for people who have grown old, and have lost their childhood/youth in war and displacement. Action is needed, and it is needed now. Pointing the arrow of the compass towards the North, and claiming that it is ready for resettlement is not sufficient. The three phases of the expelled Northern Muslims’ lives need to be reconciled; the first phase of life in the North, where they belonged, followed by the life they were forced to adapt, and the new that is yet to come, either in their original place of birth, or elsewhere where they can set down roots for their futures and the generations yet to be born need to have smoother and more comfortable transitions.  Caught between the old and the new, with no comfort from either, their present is insensitive. The war is over, but where do they go from here?

Anushka Fernando is a researcher for the Citizens’ Commission on the Expulsion of Muslims from the Northern Province by the LTTE in October 1990.

• Citizen’s Commission: Expulsion of the Northern Muslims by the LTTE in October 1990
• Forgotten IDPs from the North
• The Muslim question and resettlement of Muslim IDPs in post-war Sri Lanka: Two comprehensive interviews
• The divide between Muslims and Tamils: Perspective of an IDP
• Feature story: Cries for help from Puttalam

With the movement of these IDPs it would not be too unexpected if the Government was to announce that there are no more IDPs in Sri Lanka. It would also not come as too big a surprise if the Government would phase out the Resettlement Ministry, as a part of the expected cabinet re-shuffle when the President assumes his second term in November 2010. As with the closure of the Ministry of Disaster Management and Human Rights, following the April Parliamentary Election, the Government would be sending a clear signal that it no longer sees this issue as a significant problem requiring a separate portfolio and that whatever outstanding problems could be handled by other line ministries and departments. In essence, the Government will be declaring the end of the displacement problem that has been a direct consequence of the thirty year war, with the last three years of the war alone displacing over half a million people.

As Sri Lankans we should receive this news with a sense of relief that this large scale problem of displacement has been addressed and that communities whose lives were ruptured are able to return home and rebuild their lives. There are, however growing concerns as to the implications of the problem being declared “complete.” In the rush to end displacement and declare that there are zero IDPs in Sri Lanka there is the danger that the true scale and nature of displacement, and the return as it exists on the ground is being ignored. As this article will argue, there is real need to take a more thorough look at the problem. With a new Minister in charge who is also well aware of the different IDP population, this is the moment to take stock and to develop a fresh approach.

Old and Forgotten
There are a whole series of issues relating to the displacement problem which need to be highlighted but this article will focus on only one aspect of this problem – that of the Old IDPs. At the outset it needs to be noted that when the Government announced that there were only 60,000 IDPs, serious questions arise as to what is the Government’s definition of an IDP and the reliability of the statistics being used by the Government. Even if one is to accept, for sake of argument, that this figure refers purely to the New IDPs i.e. those displaced in and from the Vanni from April 2008 onwards, the figure does not accurately reflect the ground situation. While the Government in Colombo maintains that of the original 260,000 who were in camps, the vast majority have been ‘returned,’ it appears that at least 30,000 IDPs are staying with host families (friends and relations) mainly in the North as a temporary measure. In effect the question that arises is – has this displaced population been effectively de-recognised without a lasting solution being found for them?

Furthermore, in areas such as Jaffna it seems that many New IDPs were ‘returned’ to their original addresses but given their multiple displacements, many of these people may actually prefer to return to their homes in the Vanni where they may have been living for the past few years and where they may even own land. The main reason many of these families and individuals opted to move in with host families in the run up to the August 2009 Jaffna Municipal Elections and the January 2010 Presidential Election may have been due to their eagerness to leave the closed displacement camps. As to what will happen to this population once the rations and resettlement allowance runs out, especially for those who do own land and cannot find employment in Jaffna is by no means clear. There are also ‘returnees’ who have been unable to return to their original properties or in some cases even their village and so they are currently in transit sites, i.e. still in displacement, either because the land is currently occupied by the military or due to mines. On August 2nd TNA MP Suresh Premachandran stated to the media that some 3,000 persons have been moved back to the Vanni but are prevented from returning to their home and that the military is planning to acquire land and build cantonments.

The official statistics for IDPs being cited by the Government also completely blind sides the issue of the Old IDPs. This again raises questions as to whether the Government officially recognises Old IDPs as IDPs and whether the Government is sincerely committed to addressing existing challenges, as opposed to winning public relations battles at both the international and domestic level. The lack of reference to Old IDP statistics seems to be part of a larger policy problem, in that this population finds itself excluded from official policy documents and statements.

It is estimated that at the end of the war there were approximately 300,00 Old IDPs which includes Northern Muslims, Tamil IDPs affected by the Jaffna High Security Zones, Sinhala IDPs from the North and border villages, and IDPs from all communities in the East. The figure for Old IDPs is approximate because the Government has not provided official statistics for this population. While there have been a significant number of returns of some old IDPs since the war ended the process has been laboriously slow. In addition, there are other IDP populations such as those displaced by the tsunami. Even though the official position is that the tsunami recovery is over, there are significant numbers of tsunami affected still living in ‘transitional shelters’ which generally have a life time of a year, especially in Eastern Muslim coastal areas such as Marathamunai, Muttur and Kalmunai. Overall, the return of Old IDPs is lagging behind that of the New and there are growing concerns that they will be left behind and forgotten. In order to ensure a more comprehensive and effective response to the displacement issue in Sri Lanka there is a need to focus on the Old IDPs and include them in official policy.

Differential Treatment
It needs to be noted that the New IDPs and returnees face a whole series of challenges and many of them are still in a vulnerable situation, hence there is a clear need to ensure their concerns are immediately addressed with full recognition to their rights as citizens of this country. The argument for recognising Old IDPs cannot and should not be at the cost of the New.

However, it is apparent that there is no uniform process for resettlement of the New and Old IDPs. Whereas in the case of the New, the State and humanitarian agencies assists the IDPs in the shift through providing transport and de-registering them as IDPs and registering them as returnees, most Old IDPs have returned spontaneously, meaning they use their money to transport their belongings and family members, and have to negotiate with the authorities to allow them to return. Generally, the process is for a displaced family to cut the rations they receive in the site of displacement and inform the district authorities, and on resettlement they need to inform the relevant district authorities so that they can get resettlement assistance such as the World Food Program’s 3 month rations, a resettlement allowance of Rs 25,000 funded largely by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, and temporary shelter which has been mainly paid for by donors.

The return of Old IDPs is lagging behind that of the New. The roughly 100,000 Northern Muslim population that was expelled by the LTTE from the five districts of the Northern Province have demanded parallel, or alternately slightly delayed, resettlement for Old IDPs. Musali in Southern Mannar was the first area in the Vanni opened for resettlement in April 2009 when they had to wait for weeks to secure permission to return. While the situation improved in the latter half of 2009 in that Northern Muslims could go and negotiate access, in recent weeks however, there have been reports that some Northern Muslims attempting to return to Killinochchi and Mullaitivu have faced problems in either securing assistance or even in some cases approval to resettle. It appears that the Government is focussed on dealing with IDPs at Menik Farm to the point of asserting that all assistance is required for this group of IDPs. Humanitarian agencies in turn insist that they are under strict instructions to provide assistance only to the New IDPs. One group of Northern Muslims who wanted to return to a village in Mullaitivu were advised by one helpful government official that the best solution would be for them to re-register as IDPs in Menik Farm in order to secure permission to return and resettlement assistance! Differential treatment already exists for New and Old IDPs as the former receive rations based on nutritional needs provided by WFP, as opposed to the latter who receive Government rations based on a costing from the mid-1990s of basic goods.

It should also be noted that like in the case of New IDPs ‘returning’ to Jaffna but hoping to resettle in the Vanni where they have homes and lands, there are families of Old IDPs who may opt to relocate to other locations, as opposed to resettle. It should be noted that not all the Northern Muslims will opt to return and may prefer to locally integrate in areas such as Puttalam where the largest proportion of this population were displaced, as would old Tamil IDPs displaced from Jaffna and the Vanni currently living in Vavuniya. Given the population growth of these communities while in displacement, what was one family some twenty years later could be now three separate family units who may make independent choices regarding return or relocation.

In the case of other Old IDP populations, there is currently very limited change in the primary obstacle to their resettlement. For the vast majority of Old IDPs in Jaffna, numbering 65,000 as of July 2010, return is not an option currently open to most of them as their homes are in High Security Zones (HSZs). The HSZs roughly account for 18% of Jaffna’s territory and civilians are not permitted to live in these areas. The HSZs are a key stumbling block for the restoration of normalcy and the rights of the affected population. These IDPs and Jaffna residents in general question why such extensive areas are declared as no-go areas for civilians and why such severe restrictions are required when the LTTE has been defeated. While assurances have been provided by key figures in Government that the HSZs will be rolled back, on the ground the process has been slow, with Gurunagar and the border of Tellipellai being opened up. As quoted in the Daily Mirror on July 15th Media Minister Keheliya Rambukwella stated that HSZs in the North would remain, without specifying a time limit and without clarifying whether it would apply to all HSZs, thereby contradicting the position of Minister Douglas Devananda who has stated that the Government will gradually reduce HSZs.

Officially in the East, there are no more IDPs. Yet, some 1,700 families are effectively displaced by the Sampur HSZ, in Eastern Trincomalee which covers 4 GN divisions. It is apparent that the Government has a plan to make this a Special Economic Zone (SEZ) which would include a coal power station which is to be constructed by an Indian Company. There are also smaller populations including 1,000 families from Kanjikudichcharu, Ampara and other displaced people from all three ethnic communities wanting to return to rebuild their lives. Very clearly the statistics, the timeline and the overall plan for resettlement needs to be re-visited and revised.

While clearly the primary onus is with the Government to address this issue of disparity and unequal treatment, through policy, providing adequate assistance and raising international funding, the donors and humanitarian agencies also bear some responsibility in failing to attend to this issue. It is becoming increasingly apparent that there is a huge funding issue, with international donors not able and willing to continue providing funds for all aspects of resettlement. The increasing restrictions imposed by the Government in terms of access for local and international agencies will only make it more difficult for agencies to raise funds and carry out activities. The shortage in funds has resulted in Old IDPs being downgraded in terms of priority for assistance, including in terms of permanent housing. India has announced that it will provide 50,000 shelters but the total number of destroyed or damaged houses in the province from three decades of war is estimated to be at least three times that figure. Most donors, including India, make sympathetic noises at best, regarding the Old IDPs but make no reference to the issue nor do they pledge assistance which will facilitate their return. Hence, if resettlement is “completed” in August 2010 it is unclear how Old IDP resettlement will be supported and whether they will be provided the same assistance package as the New IDPs, which in turn raises questions relating to the principle of equity and equality in terms of the assistance and policy towards the different IDP populations.

Confronting the Problem
There are numerous problems which could result from the marginalisation of the Old IDP issue including tension between Old and New IDPs, mistrust of the authorities, fear and anxiety among Old IDPS, and land conflicts. The delay in resettlement has resulted in a variety of problems. Electoral registration is taking place in the North at the moment but it is unclear if the Northern Muslims in Puttalam and other locations will be included into the list or whether they will be excluded on the grounds that that they are not living in the area at present. SLMC leader Rauf Hakeem stated in the Daily Mirror on August 4th that Muslim families from Nachchikuda, Killinochchi District were unable to reclaim their lands because these areas had been occupied by others, which highlights the serious problems which are emerging on the ground. This problem of secondary occupation could be further complicated by the lack of documentation proving ownership. While these are complicated problems, a mixture of legal, policy and community oriented solutions could ameliorate and address these problems.

These problems are basically the result of the lack of a clear, consistent and comprehensive policy on resettlement for all IDPs. This has to be a policy that is based on constitutionally guaranteed rights and principles of equal of treatment and participation. Ensuring fair and appropriate assistance to the displaced and affected population will also serve as a crucial building block towards achieving reconciliation and a lasting peace in this country. But to find a solution you first need to acknowledge the problem.

• The Muslim question and resettlement of Muslim IDPs in post-war Sri Lanka: Two comprehensive interviews
• Civilian displacements in the Vanni
• Homeless in one’s homeland
• Citizen’s Commission: Expulsion of the Northern Muslims by the LTTE in October 1990
• The voice of an IDP single mother in Puttlam

Download the 162 page compilation of content as a PDF in high quality (25.4Mb), or low quality (3.7Mb). The low quality version is good enough to read, but the photos will look and print much better in the high quality version.

From 19 – 27 May 2010, Groundviews ran a special edition on the end of war in Sri Lanka. Over this week alone, the site received over forty thousand readers and exclusively featured over eighty thousand words of original content, one video premiere, over a dozen photos, generating over one hundred and fifty thousand words of commentary. Tens of thousands more have read and commented on this content since, making the special edition a sui generis archive of intelligent debate, incisive critique and vital perspectives that mainstream media in Sri Lanka, even post-war, is too fearful to feature.

For example, one memorable and particularly hard-hitting comment inspired by the content in this special edition came from Tathagata Bose, an Indian medical doctor who based on direct experience with the treatment of large civilian casualties at Menik Farm just after the end of war averred:

“I am an Indian pediatrician who served with the Indian Medical Team at Menik Farm IDP center. The point I am trying to raise is this – we were managing scores of infants with bullet / shell blast injuries (some festering, mostly healed). It gives an idea of the extent of collateral damage suffered by the civilians caught in the last days of the conflict. If an infant could not be protected, imagine the plight of older children and adults. The so-called “Sri Lankan Solution” being touted as the panacea for dealing with terrorism worldwide needs a thorough relook.”

A significant challenge when publishing web content in print form is to capture the vibrant nature of online debate and discussion. Because of the sheer volume of reader generated commentary, this volume only contains the original contributions by the authors. Links are provided to each article on this site, and readers are very strongly encouraged to engage with online comments.

The articles are published in the order they appeared on the site. However, the final three essays were not part of the special edition online and are included because the authors anchor their key arguments to issues, processes, people and events flagged in the special edition.

Groundviews was set up to bear witness, contest the status quo and document inconvenient truths. The comment by Dr. Bose alone is a cogent example of the site’s unique role, recognition and continued relevance post-war.

The content in this special edition alone is a compelling record of hope that risks disappointment, defiance that trumps despair and a resilient, indefatigable search for identity, truth, accountability and closure – vital narratives that need to be heard and which can’t be censored, curtailed and contained.

Veritas vos liberabit.

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and stripped clean by carnivorous fish yet the panel requires
just a few examples, sufficient to flesh out a theory of mass

slaughter; satellite shots will be investigated abroad and
conversations conducted with survivors of precarious boats

landing on Christmas Island or dragged into Jakarta. Scale
of killing poses a serious problem for management of disaster;

appointment of soft, suave diplomat to run damage control
at foreign ministry did not succeed. Murder will be revealed.

Macbeth is read also in Sri Lanka; it landed in the culture
before the current lot of customs inspectors; am sure

Saratchchandra contemplated translating the play if it did
not circulate already in the island like monsoon wind or ethics

which exist along with denial and chutzpah among
its inhabitants; government can throw a temper tantrum

but GSP will be linked to human rights and Ban Ki Moon
advised by his own handpicked men and eventually argument

about staring blind ahead into a bright and unitary future
while keeping North and East pressed down under army boots

will appear misguided, the world will keep reminding Colombo
that Vanni cannot remain a public jail where prisoners live

in tents and beg in thoroughfares during days supervised
by soldiers in watchtowers, on foot patrol, driving past in convoys.

• Negotiables
• Yellow Banana
• Artistes of hypocrisy in Sri Lanka
• Monsoons: Another western conspiracy against Sri Lanka?
• A Continuation of War by Other Means?

Deterring future criminals by ending culture of impunity?

There are a number of arguments for how successful prosecutions can impact upon deterring future criminality and ending the culture of impunity. Primarily, by not prosecuting, it may not only compound a dangerous sense of impunity among the violent but may also strongly encourage violence on the part of the as yet not violent (Keen, 2008:174). In addition, amnesty provisions constitute an acceptance of impunity and can be regarded as condoning the crimes committed by those amnesties (Souare, 2009:375). Therefore, successful prosecution should show that violence has consequences and should act as a disincentive. In the case of Uganda, only by enforcing ICC arrest warrants against the indicted leaders of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) would the international community send them and generally other warlords around the world a powerful signal that would dissuade them from committing such grave crimes in the future (Ssenyonjo in Souare, 2009:377).  However, the evidence remains mixed.

With reference to ending the culture of impunity this goal is fundamentally flawed. It assumes that a culture of impunity exists. There is no impunity. Had Joseph Kony of the LRA been captured by the Ugandan army before the ICC had been brought into Uganda, he would most likely have been killed (Ku and Nzelibe,2006). Hence, the idea that this is ending impunity does not stand up to scrutiny. If successfully prosecuted by the ICC, he would face a life sentence in an air-conditioned, European prison. This is likely to send the wrong signal, as Kony would arguably be relatively less punished, to victims in Uganda, who believe the ICC will bring them justice and end the culture of impunity. Nevertheless, there is evidence to suggest that the ICC prosecutions have to some extent deterred future criminality in northern Uganda. Rather than making civilians more vulnerable, northern Uganda is safer and life is slowly improving (O’Brien and Grono,2007). Despite this gain, their future safety is likely to rely on successful peace talks. It is clear that the ICC and the prosecutions will remain a very real stumbling block to achieving an end to the conflict.

Contribution to peace and reconciliation?

There are historical precedents for prosecutions contributing to peace and reconciliation. For example, while the key remaining Nazi leaders were executed at the Nuremberg trials, the leaders of the Western Allies pursued a policy that aimed broadly at rehabilitating West Germany while radically refashioning it as a country committed to the norms of tolerance and democracy (Cobban,2009). Some also argue that only prosecution can provide a guarantee of durable peace by dealing with the discontent felt by victims of violence (Souare,2009: 377). Hence, it is arguable that successful prosecutions can engender peace under the right circumstances.

However, I would argue that it is unlikely that this could happen without huge commitments, following prosecution, to develop norms of tolerance and democracy, which are unlikely to be welcome in divided states such as Uganda and Sudan. Furthermore, in weak states, international prosecution is likely to have a number of destabilizing effects, notably the perpetuation of conflict. Alex de Waal has argued that the ICC’s overzealous pursuit of President Omar al-Bashir of Sudan could ruin years of diplomatic progress resulting in massive human cost (de Waal, 2009). Additionally by pursuing a rigorously interpreted ‘duty to prosecute’ deep seated social and political cleavages can all too easily perpetuate, keeping in place a situation in which fundamental human rights continue to be denied and threatened on a massive scale (Cobban,2009). The court may actually have the unintended effect of reminding victims exactly why they hate the perpetrators, exacerbating the crisis. Prosecutions that lead to a socially divisive peace settlement are unlikely to be resilient without massive repression. This has arguably occurred in Rwanda where President Kagame has pursued policies of broad collective punishment of Rwandan Hutus (ibid). This has done little to engender reconciliation between Hutus and Tutsis. Furthermore, international prosecutorial measures can make it less likely for perpetrators of human rights abuses to consider a peace settlement when the reward is a prison cell.

Thus successful prosecutions arguably will not contribute to peace and reconciliation. It should therefore not be viewed as the primary mechanism of dealing with crimes against humanity. Evidence from South Africa suggests that a more inclusive approach in the form of truth and reconciliation commissions may be more likely to foster a peace settlement. Keen (2008:182) argues that by holding back from certain types of prosecution and offering amnesties in return for truth telling, South Africa was able to avoid civil war. From here, it has been able to build a relatively socially inclusive polity without the need for prosecutions. Therefore, international prosecutors must consider the implications of indicting war criminals. An end to violence and future violence must be the goal of international involvement. Prosecutions are likely to act as a limitation on peace negotiations (Allen, 2005:117). This is currently a sticking point in Uganda’s peace process. Proponents of this position argue that the pursuit of justice should be up to a limit where it will not hamper the peace process or endanger national reconciliation (Souare, 2009:377). This makes international prosecutorial measures for dealing with crimes against humanity deeply problematic.

Furthermore, international prosecutorial measures ignore the need for an intentional and successful politics of peacemaking (Cobban, 2009). By changing the focus from inclusive peace-building that aims for a new beginning to an exclusive, polarized peace, rooted in past atrocities, it is less likely that a peace will be durable. In contrast, in specific contexts, amnesties can be offered in order to bring about peace. This has arguably worked in South Africa and Mozambique. This goes strongly against the idea that crimes against humanity should be dealt primarily with prosecutions. The context is paramount and an adherence to dogma rather than strongly engaging with the specific issues is an unwise strategy. Evidence from South Africa and Mozambique show the benefits of truth and reconciliation methods.  These were successful as they approached the peace process through socially inclusive negotiations, which clearly showed that an amnesty approach might be the least worst solution (Brett, 2009:203) in pursuing peace.

Universal application given its western origins?

There are arguments to suggest that international legal measures for dealing with crimes against humanity should be assessed through local justice mechanisms with the ICC facilitating such an approach rather than through prosecutions. For example, Branch has argued that international law must be guided by those it is claiming to serve, and by their vision of what is just and prudent (Branch, 2004). Accordingly, the ICC’s role in Uganda has been attacked as an effort to impose a partial and compromised ‘Western’ form of ‘justice’, one which sets aside or ignores local mechanisms for conflict resolution, social reconciliation and the allocation of accountability (Allen, 2005). Prosecutions are seen to be counterproductive in a culture, which supposedly prioritises forgiveness and reconciliation over punitive justice. I would disagree with this supposition, which is currently being supported by, among others, the LRA, the very people who would stand to lose from international prosecutions. The view that there is a specific mechanism of forgiveness, to which all the tribes in the north subscribe, is dangerously romantic. Moreover, many victims are evidently keen on the ICC prosecution but are simply concerned with the negative ramifications that may flow from such arrests (ibid).

Despite the fact that this court is based in the west, the values it espouses are arguably universal – victims throughout the world tend to want perpetrators to be punished. Certainly many Africans have not had much choice about the role of justice in their lives (Allen 2007) but this does not mean that prosecution should not be considered when pursuing justice for the victims. There certainly does seem to be support among victims for some kind of accountability for those who have abused them (Allen, 2005:167). However, each situation must be taken in context. The lack of a functioning state to enforce prosecutions is likely to make prosecution of powerful perpetrators very difficult. Therefore although successful prosecutions would theoretically bring justice to victims, in practice it might be very difficult to secure this.

Conclusion

Throughout this essay I have endeavoured to demonstrate the problems with dealing with crimes against humanity assessed primarily in terms of successful prosecution. With regard to ending a culture of impunity I dispute the existence of such a culture but do acknowledge that prosecutions can sometimes deter future criminality. In the case of promoting peace and reconciliation, it is arguable that successful prosecutions will not necessarily lead to peace and that other mechanisms should be explored such as truth and reconciliation commissions, which worked very well in South Africa. These were successful as they approached the peace process through socially inclusive negotiations, which clearly showed that an amnesty approach may be the least worst solution (Brett, 2009:203) in pursuing peace. Additionally, regarding the charge that international legal measures for dealing with crimes against humanity should be assessed through local justice mechanisms, which favour forgiveness I strongly argue that the desire to punish perpetrators of violence is universal. Allen’s research certainly shows that there is support among the victims for some kind of accountability (2005:167). However, I do acknowledge that it may be difficult to pursue prosecutions given the complexities on the ground. Finally, it is clear that more research needs to be done on the subject but I would suggest that the decision to prosecute should be tailored to the specific context and that in some cases an adherence to international legal fundamentalism may be counterproductive.

Felix baden-Powell graduated from the University of Edinburgh with an MA(Hons.) in Politics and is now at LSE studying Development Management.

Bibliography

Allen, Tim (2005) ‘Trial Justice: The International Criminal Court and the Lord’s Resistance Army’ Zed Books Limited, London.

Allen, Tim (2007) ‘The Invention of Traditional Justice in Northern Uganda’ in Politique Africaine (107).

Allen, Tim (2007) ‘Defending the ICC’ in Prospect Magazine.

Allen, Tim eds (2010) ‘Understanding the Lord’s Resistance Army’ Zed Books Limited, London.

Branch, Adam (2004) ‘International Justice, Local Injustice’ in Dissent Magazine.

Brett, E.A (2009) ‘Reconstructing Development Theory: International Inequality, Institutional Reform and Social Emancipation’ Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke.

Clark, Phil and Waddell, Nicholas (2008) ‘Justice, Peace and the ICC in Africa’ in Clark, Phil and Waddell, Nicholas eds ‘Courting Conflict?’ Royal African Society, London.

Cobban, Helena (2007) ‘Amnesty After Atrocity? Healing Nations after Genocide and War Crimes’ Paradigm, London.

De Waal, Alex (2009) ‘To Put Justice before Peace spells disaster for Sudan’

The Guardian, < http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/mar/06/sudan-war-crimes>

Grono, Nick and O’Brien Adam (2008) ‘Justice in Conflict? The ICC and Peace Processes’ in Clark, Phil and Waddell, Nicholas eds ‘Courting Conflict?’ Royal African Society, London.

Keen, David (2008) ‘Complex Emergencies’ Polity Press, London.

Ku, Julian and Nzelibe, Jide (2006) ‘Do International Criminal Tribunals Deter or Exacerbate Humanitarian Atrocities’ in Washington University Law Review, vol 84, no. 4.

Souare, Issaka (2009) ‘The ICC and African Conflicts: The Case of Uganda’ in Review of African Political Economy, 36.

• Unpacking the Truth in Sri Lanka
• Thought for the day
• Interview with Justice C.G. Weeramantry
• Is Sri Lanka in danger of being held accountable by the International Criminal Court?
• The Government must uphold the Rule of Law

“Just then they came in sight of thirty or forty windmills that rise from that plain. And no sooner did Don Quixote see them that he said to his squire, “Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished. Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless.”

“What giants?” asked Sancho Panza.”Those you see over there,” replied his master, “with their long arms. Some of them have arms well nigh two leagues in length.”

“Take care, sir,” cried Sancho. “Those over there are not giants but windmills. Those things that seem to be their arms are sails which, when they are whirled around by the wind, turn the millstone.”

—Part 1, Chapter VIII. Of the valourous Don Quixote’s success in the dreadful and never before imagined Adventure of the Windmill.

“Resisting the (terrorism) discourse is not an act of disloyalty, it is an act of political self-determination and it is absolutely necessary if we are to avoid another stupefying period of fear and violence like the Cold War. There is little doubt by now that terrorism discourse creates its own reality.

Joseba Zulaika in Terrorism: The Self-fulfilling Prophesy (2009: 2)

The weather gods have intervened to arrest the war gods in Lanka. Victory celebrations that were to feature military hardware, air power, and parades scheduled for V-Day on May 18, 2010 on Galle Face Green, while Colombo’s ordinary citizens were subject to yet another security lock-down to protect the Victors have been indefinitely postponed. Pre-monsoon rains and floods have displaced many poor and vulnerable families, living in “unauthorized shelters” (that the Urban Development Authority now headed by the valiant Defense Secretary, Gotabaya Rajapaksa is given to knocking down), in Southern Sri Lanka. It is apparent that the funds and energy spent on victory celebrations, would be better spent on rehabilitation of flood victims (almost 500,000) and, one might add, the 50,000 war displaced Vanni IDPs who still remain in camps.

Since the war ended a year ago on May 19, 2009, there has not been a single “terrorist” attack in Sri Lanka, as Ravinath Aryasinghe, Lanka’s Ambassador to the European Union pointed out in Brussels recently. Yet the State’s (anti)terrorism discourse continues with rumors of the LTTE regrouping in South America. Ravinath noted that the war had moved with the Diaspora to the Western hemisphere; an overstatement that seems to be more in concert with the Colombo regime’s propensity to fight windmills a la the valiant Don Quixote, ever in search of villains on the horizon.  Of course, a few ethnic entrepreneurs in the diaspora whose livelihood may depend on marketing “liberation” have announced a virtual state of Tamil Eelam in cyber space. This may not be the best way to keep up the pressure on the GoSL to treat its minorities right, since the declaration a Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam (TGTE) has been enormously helpful to those inclined to pursue post-conflict militarization and in-securitization in Colombo and the northeast.

Citizens of Lanka from all communities who were relieved and grateful to the armed forces for ending the war are increasingly confounded by the new (in) securitization and continued military footprint in Colombo, as well as, the permanent State of Emergency. The purchase of close circuit television (CCTV) cameras with training for service personnel (in Singapore), to secure the posh neighbourhoods of Colombo’s Cinnamon Gardens through which the Presidential entourage passes daily, is one such example of extravagance in the interest of post-conflict (in)securitization  aka. fighting windmills. Meanwhile, on the roads dug up for CCTV power lines, an unsuspecting pedestrian has fallen into a pot hole or two and broken her leg during the pre-monsoon down pours. Whose security is it, anyway?

Did the war end after all? The Diaspora and Amnesia

It is easy to forget that “terrorism” comes to an end somewhere, sometime, somehow, since the global ‘war on terror’ discourse is seamless, endless and has no exit strategy. As Harvard Political Scientist, Audrey Cronin, has noted in her book “How Terrorism Ends”: “Amid the fear following 9/11 and other recent terror attacks, it is easy to forget the most important fact about terrorist campaigns: they always come to an end–and often far more quickly than expected”.  Before the war ended we had become used to the idea that it would go on for a long time. Various local and international conflict and peace experts in the business of predicting and sometimes rendering “protracted conflict” a self-fulfilling prophesy had said so. Extended exposure to violence on an of screen also tends to anesthetize the public and creates an endless plateau just like the non-existent term limits of Sri Lankan political leaders impervious to the fact that all good things must come to an end. But it seems that the post/conflict (in)securitization has a more material explanation: the Army Commander that helped win the war is locked up and the V-Day celebration would have been like Hamlet without the Prince!

Post/modernist pronouncements on the end of “grand narratives” seem rather misplaced these days since “terrorism” appears to have become a new international grand narrative of sorts, of course. The terrorism narrative like previous grand narratives of progress, development and the forward march of civilization that underwrote various forms and phases of imperialism has a political economy that benefits among others, the security knowledge industry, the arms trade, and the “terrorism” spin mill. Terrorism discourse mimics other grand narratives as antithesis or apocalypse. As Brezinski has noted in an article titled “Terrorized by the War on Terror” in the Washington Post, in March 2006: “Constant reference to a “war on terror” did accomplish one major objective: It stimulated the emergence of a culture of fear. Fear obscures reason, intensifies emotions and makes it easier for demagogic politicians to mobilize the public on behalf of the policies they want to pursue. The war of choice in Iraq could never have gained the congressional support it got without the psychological linkage between the shock of 9/11 and the postulated existence of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Support for President Bush in the 2004 elections was also mobilized in part by the notion that “a nation at war” does not change its commander in chief in midstream. The sense of a pervasive but otherwise imprecise danger was thus channeled in a politically expedient direction by the mobilizing appeal of being “at war.”

As the one year anniversary of the defeat of the LTTE approached the terrorism spin-mill worked overtime to equate the Tamil diaspora with’ terrorism’, rather than highlight the manner in which it sustains family and kin who survived the war back home. The constant repetition of stories about LTTE arms catches and arrests of members works to re-produce the terror discourse and legitimize militarization and the extra-ordinary security for the ruling family in post-conflict Colombo. While a few members of the Tamil diaspora have declared a Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam (TGTE), in exile and are engaged in anti-GoSL propaganda overseas the great majority has little interest in a Tamil cyber-nation-state. Several Tamil diaspora organization are actively opposed to TGTE, particularly, those who are conscious that ‘long distance nationalism’ may negatively affect the prospects of their kin in Lanka to live in peace and security.

It is well known, as with the Palestine/Israel conflict that Diasporas often tend to be far more intransigent and unwilling to compromise than those who remained at home, but the international context that enabled the LTTE become a powerful global terror network during the post-Cold war period of unfettered globalization, no longer exists. Tamil and Sinhala ultra-nationalism and extremism is most visible at this time from the respective diasporas, but there is also an emerging disconnect between the diaspora leadership and those in-country who wish to compromise, co-exist, and work with “other” communities to build back better. The declaration of a virtual state of Tamil Eelam merely serves to legitimize continued militarization in post/conflict Lanka, and the concomitant  (in)securitization of  minorities. It is not the best way to keep up the pressure on a regime that may suffer the Macbeth syndrome.

Different Strokes to Mark V-day
Before the intervention of the weather gods, the Sri Lankan State had called on its citizens and subjects to celebrate V-Day with pomp and ceremony, and ordered flags flown in all official buildings in the districts. The public of the Capital, particularly residents of snooty Colombo 7, where the Hambantota interlopers have been ironically on a tree-cutting, road- beautifying, charm-offensive, (consonant with the Urban Development Authority (UDA), being handed over to the Defense Ministry), had once again braced itself to be inconvenienced by ‘security’ arrangements for the ruling extended family. On the other hand, Tamil politicians and the TNA had called for a day of mourning, since the defeat of the LTTE represents to them the defeat of Tamil nationalism.  Civil society meanwhile tried to be tempered and emphasized the need for balance, proportionality, dignity, and respect for the grief of those who lost kin when marking the first anniversary of the end of armed violence in Sri Lanka. At the same time, the International Crisis Group and Human Rights Watch saw fit to renew calls for accountability for war crimes to mark the first anniversary of the end of war in Lanka. Unfortunately, they may also have renewed the Macbeth complex of the establishment – fear of trees and the ghosts of murdered souls– (Out, out, damn spot and all that…), that seems to be at the root of Sri Lanka’s post-conflict militarism and insecurity.

What is to be done?
The best and only way to ensure that Lanka becomes the “wonder of Asia” and honor those who defeated terrorism is to ensure that there would not be a recurrence of violence. Rather than fighting windmills and appointing commissions to reveal lessons already known, the government’s best option would be to set things right on the ground in Lanka by ensuing speedy and dignified resettlement of the war displaced, securing minority rights, reparation, and reconciliation among the various ethno-religious communities. For this, fully implementing the 13 Amendment to the Constitution in the North and East would be a beginning. These should be the priority at this time, rather than constitutional changes to extend the term of the Presidency.

Unfortunately both the head of State and the Opposition seem to suffer the same malaise—an aversion to relinquish power and dislike for term limits on political power, to ensure that they move on and hand over to the younger generation, which may partly explain the propensity for youth uprisings and rebellions among youth from the different ethnic communities in post/colonial Lanka. The Buddhist principle that “all things change” must surely apply to politicians in the land of the peaceful one and those in power today must know that they are merely custodians of the land who need give way to others tomorrow? The United National Party must sort out its internal crisis speedily rather than dragging its feet and mimicking the government on reforms, in order to engage the UPFA government on the priorities for constitutional reform since most Presidents of Lanka have displayed an unseemly aversion to giving up power when their term runs out. But until Wickramasinghe passes on the torch to someone else, this may be a case of the pot to call the kettle black!

Finally, during the Tsunami disaster local civil society organizations worked ceaselessly, across ethno-religious identity lines to assist those who were displaced, and to help them resettle and reconstruct.  The Sri Lanka diaspora also contributed enormously to relief and recovery. More than the government and international donors (the UN which consumes most of the funds raised for disaster victims again mourning about donor fatigue), similar efforts by civil society with the help of the Diaspora should be able to see the war-displaced resettle with dignity rather than living in miserable temporary huts once they have returned to their home villages, as is the case in much of Killinochchi and Mullaithivu. The scale of assistance necessary to support the conflict-displaced at this time is far smaller than on the first anniversary of the Tsunami disaster. Perhaps some of the energy and funds of the TGTE may be diverted to help the Vanni IDPs and returnees, and the Defense Ministry remove restrictions on access to the north — to prevent “terrorism” becoming a self-fulfilling prophesy again in Lanka?

• Should We Fight Terror?
• Post-conflict Transition and Aid Effectiveness: Reconstruction and Reconciliation in Sri Lanka – Part 1
• The unlearnt lessons of July 1983
• Prabhakaran is dead – join debates on what next for Sri Lanka
• Fear: A Personal Experience in Sri Lanka

Although the government still maintains some restrictions on travel, I managed to visit these areas many times. My visits including overnight stay in Vanni without beds, attached bathrooms, running water, electricity, helped me to better experience and understand life there after the war. It also increased my admiration for some of my friends, Catholic priests and sisters, who warmly welcomed and hosted me and my friends every time we visited, despite the very basic and difficult life they had opted to live.

My visits took me to interior villages deep inside the Vanni. From Paranthan on the A9 road to Ponneryn, and then further south on the A32 road, down to Vidathalthivu, visiting villages such as Mulangavil, Thevanpiddy. We also visited villages and towns such as Mallawi, Thunukai, Uruthirapuram Sannar, Eechalavakai. In the Mannar district, we went to Adampan, Alkataveli, Uylankulam etc. East of the A9 road, in the Mullativu district, we visited places such as Oddusudan, Katsilaimadu and upto Vattapalai on the A34 road.

The A9 road was crowded with buses, vans and even luxurious vehicles such as Prado, Defenders etc. I had talked with some and most appeared to be tourists from the south going to Jaffna. Name boards from buses indicated the variety of places they were coming from, practically all districts of Sri Lanka. Many were picnicking under shady trees on the roadside, others admiring war monuments built by the military.

However, I saw no tourists and luxurious vehicles along the dusty, broken and bumpy roads beyond the A9 road. Every time I went in a van, after the journey, the drivers told me they will have to send the van for repairs and service! The times I went by motorbike, it was a bit easier to negotiate the gaping holes on the roads, though the dust, heat and sitting upright for hours was not so comfortable.

What’s hidden beyond the A9?

On most occasions as we turned from the A9 road or from the Mannar – Medwachiya road to go interior villages, it seemed to arouse suspicion and curiosity in soldiers. Familiar questions of earlier years, such as “where are you going?” “why are you going?” “who are you” were thrown at us. Our response that we are going to visit friends didn’t appear to be a satisfactory answer. In the Vanni, it seems to be considered something abnormal and suspicious to visit friends!

My Tamils friends from the North found these questions offensive.

“This is our land, our people are living here, these soldiers are from outside, how dare they ask us all these questions and stop us? Why can’t I visit my place? Why can’t I visit my relatives and friends? Why can’t I invite friends (meaning me)?” were the angry and frustrated refrain I was to hear often from my friends.

Most of my friends were Christian priest and sisters, some of them were going to their own places, own land and houses. Places they had grown up, and their families had been living and still lived. These were also areas where they had served their religious and social ministries and their colleagues were now living and working in very difficult circumstances.

The fact that I was Sinhalese from Colombo seemed to arouse further suspicions and curiosity amongst the soldiers.

We asked why they were trying to stop us from visiting, especially as these were areas formally declared as areas cleared of land mines and people were already living there.

“We don’t know, we just follow orders” was the inevitable response. Some of the soldiers were apologetic. On several occasions, it was mentioned that we have to get permission from the Ministry of Defense or that we should go to a nearby Brigade Headquarters and get special permission or a pass.

My friends and I tried to maintain our composure and sometimes soldiers at the check points tried to help us by contacting their superiors while we waited patiently. Some occasions, soldiers did their best to sooth our frustration by offering us chairs, chatting to us and giving us tips about how bad the roads were! I didn’t think they had anything else to offer. On one occasion, we waited for about 30 minutes near Paranthan on the A9 road and one solider rode on a bicycle to inform the checkpoint that the commander had given a special permission for us to proceed to Uruthirapuram. On another occasion, me and a priest friend from Mannar waited in vain in the hot sun for about an hour at the Mankulam junction check point awaiting permission to visit the recently returned people in Oddusudan. The permission never came and we left the embarrassed and apologetic soldiers at the checkpoint and turned back. On yet another occasion, we waited patiently at a barrier in Vattapalai in the Mullativu district for about 30minutes, again while the officer on duty contacted his superiors and that superiors contacted his superior. We wanted to proceed to Killinochi through the shortest road through Puthukudiruppu that we learnt was already open, but not for civilians. Permission never came and we finally turned back and took the longer route through Mankulam. When we turned back and went, some officers on duty offered to call us on our mobile phones if they did get permission from their superiors to allow us through, but we never got a call. On several other occasions, the soldiers or officers at the checkpoints consented to allow us to proceed after some initial hesitation.

Anyways, like we did with the LTTE during the time they were in control of the Vanni and restricting travel to Mullativu and other interior villages, my friends and I did manage to negotiate with those trying to stop us and visit our friends in the interior villages.

Militarization

On most roads inside the Vanni, whether on the A9 or interior roads, I felt as if we were travelling within a military camp. Military camps and check posts were along all the roads.

In Pooneryn, the main road literally ran through a newly built Army camp. In several other places including the A9 road, army camps occupied the main tarred road and we as civilians were forced to take a roundabout route, on muddy dusty makeshift pathways. In the more bushy and jungle areas, sign boards on the roadside indicated military camps inside the jungles.

Soldiers were everywhere with uniforms and with weapons. Some soldiers were in civil but were easily identifiable through the gun on their shoulders, even as they were walking or riding their bicycles. Other soldiers were relaxing, playing cricket and bathing in small streams. The buildings that were in the best conditions were all military and police structures. I could very well empathize with what one elderly gentleman in Mulangavil told me; “it looks as if it’s their (military) land and we are strangers, while the truth is they are occupying our land”.

Clearly, the military has less to do on military matters now. I saw and heard in several places that the military is assisting with road construction, distributing water, organizing cultural and sports events etc. I also heard of efforts of some military officials to assist civilians in their basic needs. In view of the massive needs of the population for basic services and infrastructure, and the very weak civil administration and reluctance of the government to allow NGOs access to help those in need, people are compelled to depend on the military for even basic services like water.

Security fears

The huge military presence, with past experiences of abuses, has caused deep rooted fear amongst many of civilians I spoke to.  “We are scared to have young girls and boys walk around in the dark” one mother told us.

Catholic sisters who had gone to be with the people had sent additional reinforcements, as they didn’t want sisters to be alone.

“I was accused several times by the Army intelligence of being in the LTTE. Another boy was also accused. The Army had also told a villager that I would be taken away. I’m scared and don’t go anywhere alone” was what one man in Kathalampiddy, close to Vidathalthivu told us. “Although only two people had been threatened, the whole village is now scared” another woman from the village told us.

“Will the Army leave soon?” one anxious young man asked me, to which I had no answer.

Snakes have also instilled fear in several villages in visited. In one village I visited, snake bites had caused two deaths and several injuries.

Sexual abuse

“In front of our own eyes, and inside our premises, the army was touching a young girl…so what would happen if we are also not there” one Catholic sister asked me when I met her in the Vanni.

Amidst the huge military presence, one lady was raped in newly resettled area of Alkataveli, close to Adampan and north of Mannar and one person was killed in Killinochi. The checkpoint and soldiers with their guns had been unable to prevent or bring perpetrators to justice. An incident of sexual abuse by a soldier in Nachikuda was narrated to me. I heard of other incidents of rape, sexual abuse, killings, but could not get confirmation.

Two young female students we spoke to complained that they felt they were being harassed by regular requests to see identity cards as they cycle to school in nearby Illupaikadavai. “They don’t ask the boys, they only ask girls, even when they know we don’t have identity cards at our age, and they know who we are. It seems they are trying to flirt with us” one girl said.

Happy to be back…but incomplete return

Most of the people I met would start conversations with bright smiles, saying they are happy to be back in their own land, despite all they have lost and the adverse circumstances.

But as we continued to listen to them and be with them, we would often be left speechless and helpless, as tears welled up in their eyes.

Most families had returned incomplete. Not just without properties, but also without their loved ones who had been killed, missing and detained.

Discriminating the dead

Many of the people I met in Vanni had parents, children, brothers and sisters, grandparents and other close family members killed during the final months of the war in 2009. It almost seemed normal and inevitable in most of the villages I visited in Vanni.

Since 2006, I had met families of Sinhalese killed in claymore attacks, suicide bombings by LTTE in rural villages such as Kebidogollwe, Moneragela. The sorrow I experienced with them and with the Tamils in Vanni was not very different. The tears and sorrow didn’t seem to have an ethnic dimension.

But how the society and government deal with these certainly seems to be on ethnic lines.

Society and the government had been quick to condemn killings by the LTTE and mourn with the grieving families. Sinhalese people killed by claymore attacks, suicide bombings had got death certificates, compensation from government and even business groups. They all had funerals, often with media coverage, even state patronage. I had seen these on TV, in newspapers, and saw and heard from family members and villagers. I felt these were some basic measures, even though we all know lives lost can never be compensated.

But there seems to be a reluctance of Sri Lankan society and the government to mourn and grieve with the Tamils who had lost thousands of loved ones within a few months. The large number of Tamils killed don’t have death certificates, no compensation, no funerals. “We had no time to mourn, leave alone a funeral. We had to run over the dead bodies, just to save our own lives” one woman whose two children were killed told us.

“About 25 have been killed in this Grama Seweka division. I can easily collect the details of those who have been killed in the village, witnesses etc., and assist people to get death certificates and compensation. But I have not got any instructions from the government. I think the government wants to cover up that so many people were killed. Im scared to do anything by myself as I might fall into trouble” said one Gramw Seweka in a village in Manthai West division when I asked him about this.

I tried to find out procedures for obtaining death certificates, but was not successful. In the Vidathalthivu area, I was told there was a mobile clinic to issue birth and death certificates, but that all applications for death certificates were rejected.

Families of those missing, detained, injured

Families of those killed were not the only ones who were crying.

Many didn’t know where their loved ones were living or dead. And if they are living, where they are. Most had seen their children, husband, brother etc., go off with the army. Subsequently, they had searched in IDP camps, detention centres, hospitals, with relatives. Except few, many had failed to find their loved ones.

“I live crying everyday, and searching for my 3^rd son. He was injured and taken to a hospital by the armed forces. I heard that he was in Mannar hospital and I went there. With help of Police there, I could find the name of my son on the register. I was told by the hospital that the Army had taken him away after getting him discharged. But I couldn’t find the Army officers who had taken him. I can’t find my son. Who will find my son? There are so many mothers and fathers in this situation. Can those who have elections find our children?” was what a mother from Krishnapuram told us.

In April, I and some friends joined an 67 year old man now in Zone 4 of Menik Farm IDP camp (Chettikulam, Vauniya district) to find his missing son. We went to Padaviya hospital where the son had been admitted after being evacuated from the Vanni by the ICRC in March 2009. Padaviya hospital records showed that the son, who was mentally retarded and unable to walk, was indeed admitted and had been transferred to Vavuniya hospital. When we came to Vavuniya hospital, there are no records of such a person being admitted.

Many others I met had similar stories.

In every village, I would also meet people whose children and family members are being detained, for almost a year and some for many years. They have not been charges in court of law. And have limited access to friends, family and no access to ICRC and lawyers.

“I have come back to my village. I could probably build my house. But my son is a prisoner. I don’t know when he will be allowed to come home. First the LTTE took him and now the Army has taken him. How can I be happy at coming back when my son is still a prisoner and I don’t know what will happen to him” asked a mother with tears in her eyes.

Each time I visit the office of the National Human Rights Commision (NHRC) in Jaffna and Vavuniya, I run into anxious families, glancing through the list the NHRC had displayed. This list has a round one thousand names of people being detained in Boosa detention camp and elsewhere. But the governments officials have claimed over 10,000 are detained in Vavuniya alone. Many thousands more are in detention facilities all over the country.

But these helpless families don’t have access to a centralized list with any government or independent agency, to check and see whether their children or loved ones are in any official detention facility.

Fear of Sinhalese domination

In the interiors of Vanni, I could see many sign boards in Sinhalese. Despite the fact that almost all the civilians in Vanni are Tamil speaking now, Tamil language was visibly absent in many sign boards.

Some places and names had been given new Sinhalese names by the military. As I took a photo of a signboard in Sinhalese marked “Ali handiya” (meaning elephant junction) Along the Mankulam – Mullativu road, an army officer rushed to stop us and asked us why were taking photographs. We asked in turn about this board. “The Tamil name is too long and complicated, so when we took control of this area, we put this name, as this is much easier for us” was his explanation. My friend from Mullativu was inside the van, but kept quiet, but he couldn’t hide his anger and hurt afterwards.

Some of the signboards in Sinhalese are those with names of Sinhalese soldiers. Gamini Kularatne Mawatha in Pampaimottai and Ranawiru Abeysundara Mawatha in Kalliyadi are examples. When I asked a villager what this meant, he said he thought it was their village name written in Sinhalese, and was shocked when I told him that it was not the village name, but a Sinhalese soldier’s name.

At the Mankulam junction on the A9 road, there is a signboard in all three languages. But in addition to the usual and accepted Sinhalese names, the board also mentions older Sinhalese names. “This is an attempt to show that these lands are Sinhalese lands” one Tamil priest told me.

Foremost place to Buddhism even in Hindu and Christian villages

A striking feature along the A9 road, in the Killinochi town is the large arch proclaiming “May Buddhism shine”. From what I understood from the civilians I spoke to, vast majority of the civilians were Hindus and a significant number Christian. However, there were of course no arches or boards proclaiming “May Hinduism shine” or “May Christianity shine”. The Lumbini Viharaya, the Buddhist shrine in Killinochi town was spick and span and was obviously being given a lot of attention.

Compared to this, the Hindu kovils and Christian churches were visibly in bad shape, some were abandoned and buildings damaged.

Along the A9 road and the smaller roads in the interior villages, new and shining Buddhist monuments and statutes were visible. All of these were villages with large majority of Hindu and Christian civilian populations. I saw soldiers cleaning up an area in Mankulam with a Bo Tree, probably to put up ayet another Buddha statue.

There was even a Buddhist dagaba in the premises of a Catholic Church which was occupied by the Army when I first visited Manthai West AGA division in Mannar district, immediately after people were allowed to go back. 09.

I have a lot of respect for Buddhism. But I wonder why Buddhism has to given such a prominent in villages where the civilian population is predominantly Hindu and Christian? Is it because our constitution has a clause saying “foremost place to Buddhism”? Or to show that Buddhism is the religion in Sri Lanka and people in Vanni had better learn to accept it now?

New monuments for the Army and destruction of dead Tamil militants cemeteries

Along the A9 road such as in Killinochi and Elephant pass as well as in interior villages such as Pooneryn, there were monuments built by the military. These symbolize victory for the military and the government, but for most of the Tamils I spoke to these monuments symbolize domination of their lands by the Army. And glorification of a war that killed and injured thousands of their loved ones.

There were no monuments for the thousands of Tamil civilians who were killed and went missing in the war. I asked many times, in many places from many people about any monuments to remember the thousands of Tamil civilians killed and gone missing, but there were none.

Making this worse is the destruction of cemeteries with dead LTTE cadres by the Army. I saw at least one in Vanni, while I had seen such destructions in Jaffna as well. Despite it’s brutality and record of violence & killings, the LTTE had a tradition of respecting it’s dead cadres and this had provided family members and friends to visit the graves of their loved ones and conduct religious and cultural rituals, especially on special days such as birthday and day of death. Now, family members are compelled to gaze emptily at gravel heaped together.

Re-displacement and occupation of land by Army

In my most recent visit to the Vanni, earlier this week, I went to Eechalavakai, along the Periyamadu Road from Vidathalthivu, in the Mannar district. There, I met some people who were still living in tents in a common village land as displaced persons. Amongst them was a 10 day old infant.

“We were told by the Divisional Secretary that we can go back to our lands. So we came from the camps. But when we came and started to clean up the land, the land we have been living for more than 25 years, the Army came and told us to go away. When we asked why, they told us that they are going to take our land for a Army Camp” one villager told us.

Later, we were shown their lands, in nearby Sannar, where notices were pinned to trees saying “This land is reserved for Army”

Houses

Most of the houses had been damaged. Most people I met were living in temporary make shifts tents built with canvas and tin sheets provided with foreign aid. Many more were living in makeshift houses that were damaged. When I first visited Adampan, some people were living in a church.

We also saw a number of houses destroyed. Some were totally destroyed and will have to be built from scratch. Others were partly destroyed, but parts still standing.

I was told by people that while some houses were damaged during actual warfare. In case of other houses, people had just abandoned their houses and left as the Army advanced. Several had been converted as bunkers by the LTTE. Others had been occupied by the Army. Some are still occupied by the Army.

Basically, there was hardly any house that was in good shape that I saw. Except some that were occupied by the Army.

“The house we built had to be abandoned during the last phase of the war. When we came back, the house had no roofs, windows, doors. There was not much fighting in these areas. Who took these? Why did they take these? What was the connection between war, terrorism, LTTE and the roof, windows and doors of our house?” questioned a Principal of a school close to Killinoch town.

“When we came back (after displacement), we found that roofs, doors, windows of all houses were missing, except one house. The remaining house with roof was because the army had used it as their camp. Valuable household items were also missing” commented a middle age man from Vattapalai, close to Mullativu. Another middle aged man from Katsilaimadu, also close to Mullativu showed visible anger as he told us “I have heard that doors, windows etc. is available for sale. This means selling our own things that were stolen from us. There was no war in these areas, we left everything. Walls of houses are there. But nothing else.”

Education

Along the A9 road and along the interiors, we saw many school children. Some schools buildings had been renovated some had not been repaired after been damaged or abandoned. And there were many classes being held in the open air under trees.

In one of my visits to Thevanpiddy, I was surprised to hear that that the whole Church, the residence of the priest and even the garden was being used for the school, as the school itself had been damaged. In a subsequent visit this week, I learnt that some classes are still conducted inside the Church.

One of my friends from Jaffna, is now teaching in this school. “We do our best to teach our children. But we who try to educate the children have no hostel or proper facilities to stay, while the Army and Police have good buildings” lamented my friend, who stays the weekdays in the makeshift school and travels every weekend to Jaffna to be with his family.

We had the chance to chat with several students, teachers and principals and one Deputy Zonal Director of Education, who I met by coincidence in the train I was travelling to go to Vanni. Below are some of the stories we heard:

• In Panikankulam Government Tamil Mixed School, along the A9 road, we found that there are 19 teachers for 18 students. However, teachers have to travel 2-3 hours, and some even more, from Jaffna and Vavuniya, on a daily basis. A free bus service was provided till the Presidential elections of 26^th January, but since then, the teachers have to spend a major portion of their salary for transport.
• But in other schools, there was a clear lack of teachers. One Principal there were no teachers for Mathematics, Science and English
• We met some students (aged 17-18) who had sat for the G.C.E Ordinary Level examination in December 2009, and were now volunteering as substitutes for teachers
• At the time we visited in February, we learnt that only 10 of the 54 schools in the Thunukai division had started. 18 out of 29 were functioning in the Poonagary division.
• At least in two schools, we heard that children walk at least 8km a day (4km either way) to go to  school, as there is no bus service or any other transport system
• Some children have also been compelled to travel far to distant schools, as schools in their villages had not reopened
• Several children told us that they had not received text books or even copy books
• We observed that some children were in school uniform, while others were not in uniform. “Many children don’t have uniforms, they have not been given uniforms and parents don’t have livelihoods and can’t afford to buy school uniforms. So we allow them to come without uniform” explained one Principal
• Most of the support for students comes not from the government, but from UN. The UN’s World Food Program (WFP) was providing mid day meals to some school students. One Principal told us the WFP subsidy comprises rice, dhal and cooking oil and is an average of Rs. 2.00 per student
• UNICEF provides most other materials, from mats for children to sit on (both indoors and classes under trees) as well as school bags, books, tools etc.
• Several Principals and teachers also told us about teachers and children who had been killed and injured during the last months of the war. Principals also reported about their students who had been abducted /recruited by the LTTE. One Principal added some students forcibly recruited are now detained by the government

Military restaurants and people’s restaurants

One of the initial sources of livelihood when people went back to villages in the Vanni were the small tea shops that they set up along the A9 road and other roads.

But these were overshadowed by the bigger, better looking and better equipped “Janaavanhalas” (People’s restaurants) put up by the military. Each and every time I go along the A9. There appeared to be more military run restaurants than before. In the small Paranthan junction, there were around 10 such restaurants, run by various divisions, brigades of the military.

“We have nothing, had to start from scratch and wanted to slowly build up business. The Army has the resources to put up big structures, refrigerators, tables, and chairs etc., also people to work. Visitors coming in buses and vans from the south go to the bigger restaurants run by the Army. Most of the visitors are Sinhalese from the south and maybe they prefer to go to the restaurants run by the Sinhalese soldiers. So although thousands of buses and vans go on the A9 road, we have very little business and it’s very difficult to build up and develop our tea shop” was the grievance of one elderly women, at whose small and basic tea shop I had stopped to have some tea.

Cultivation and fishing

As I visited the Vanni, I was struck by the fertile land and greenery, especially around Adampan. It was refreshing to see that some farmers had already started cultivation in these areas.

However, in most parts of Killinochi and Mullativu, there was no cultivation yet and I heard despairing farmers waiting to start cultivation. Some had received some agricultural tools, but no seeds. Most importantly, many still didn’t have access to their farmland. Some remain occupied by the Army, some areas are claimed to be still not demined and other areas simply declared off limits without reasons.

Fisherfolk on the western coast have been more fortunate in terms of easing of restrictions since the end of the war. Restrictions still apply however, such as around Iranathivu, Periyathivu, Sinnathivu, all of which are occupied by the Navy.

Some fishermen complained to us that the Navy had beaten them. “We thought the restrictions were lifted and went nearby these fertile areas for fishing. But we were beaten by the Navy and told we can’t fish there as the area belongs to the Navy. At least they could have informed us without beating us” was what a group of fisherman told us.

A major problem these people face is the lack of boats and nets, as most of these had been abandoned when they fled for their lives. Most boats and nets were lost, while others are damaged. Some said boats had been stolen. “There were about 250 boats in our village, but now, there are only 3 left” one fisherman told us. Another fisherman told us that they can earn about Rs. 1,000.00 per day when they go fishing, but they only get the chance to go once a week on average, due to lack of boats.

Government servants such as the Grama Sewekas, Divisional and District Secretaries and their staff, health officials, teachers and education officials have also returned to work.

Freedom of Association

The government is also trying to restrict any peaceful mobilization, collective action of empowerment of people in the Vanni.

The Presidential Task Force headed by the President’s brother Basil Rajapakse had granted permission to some NGOs to launch some projects to assist people in need of assistance. “But permission has been granted only to build houses and infrastructure and start income generating activities. Permission has been rejected for counseling, capacity building and empowerment activities. So we are restricted in what we can do” said one head of an NGO based in Mannar, which is keen to assist people in Vanni.

“We tried to start a small association to help people who were helpless. But the army doesn’t allow us to meet” an elderly gentleman told us in Vattapalai, close to the Mullativu town.

What does the future hold for Vanni?

Vanni people had suffered a lot. Under the authoritarian rule of the LTTE when people, including children, were forcibly recruited to fight, dissent was punished and many lived in poverty. Then during the war, where entire villages were displaced more than ten times, some had been injured, all had lost properties, and most have had their loves ones killed, missing and detained.

So people I met in Vanni are happy that the bombings and shelling have ceased. They are relieved to have been allowed to go back, after multiple displacement and subsequent detention by the government.

But they still face an uncertain and fearful future.

Most people in interior villages live isolated lives, surrounded soldiers they fear. Men live in fear of being abducted or detained. Women and girls live in fear of sexual abuse. They also fear domination of their lives, lands and culture by the Sinhalese and Buddhists.

Students are concerned about access to educational facilities. Farmers and fisherfolk await opportunities to engage in their traditional livelihoods.

Even those who had suffered under the LTTE and had opposed the LTTE are saddened as the cemeteries of Tamil militants are destroyed and monuments are built by the military and for Sinhalese soldiers

And the despair and fear worsens as the rest of country prepares for a massive celebration of a war victory, while people in the Vanni cry over their dead family members, try to trace their missing family members, try to recover from their injuries, await release of detained family members.

Divisions between Sinhalese & Tamils, North & South become clearer as the Sinhalese in the South celebrate and Tamils in North mourn for the same occasion. If Sri Lanka is a home to one family, where Sinhalese and Tamils are brothers and sisters, what we might see on the occasion of one year since the end of the war is something like having a funeral and a wedding in two rooms of the same house for two children of the same family.

One year after the end of the war, reconciliation would be a hollow and empty word unless concerns such as the above are not addressed.

This report is based on many visits to villages in the Vanni between November – May 2010.

• Forcible resettlements in East
• Celebrating war victory and banning commemoration of dead civilians: this is “home grown & indigenous” reconciliation and freedom in Sri Lanka?
• From the tiger’s den to an open prison
• Christmas 2008 in Sri Lanka
• A recent trip to Vavuniya: For the future looks dark and gloomy

How valid is this assumption of political, economic and societal stability that the Government so bountifully enjoys today – the first anniversary of the defeat of the LTTE, or of ‘separatist terrorism’, as the government calls it and would like it to be known?

The elements of that apparent stability which both local and foreign observers prefer to comment on are well known. They are broadly the massive majorities obtained by the President and his Party at the recently concluded elections. The arguments of the many who contest the accuracy and the manner in which these results were obtained are also well known. But what are some of the many vulnerabilities that lurk overtly and covertly below the surface of the apparently favourable political, economic and social crust and which cannot be discounted as one assesses future progress? This essay will seek to explore some of the more obvious of these ‘torpedoes’ that the unwary and the historically uninitiated may overlook.

Indeed the recent history of our blessed and serendipitous land has some telling lessons of great electoral victories not being a sufficient condition for undiluted growth and success. Take for example the 1970 United Front government which, decimating the UNP incumbent won a two-thirds electoral majority under Sirimawo Bandaranaike’s resurgent leadership. All seemed set for a long reign of unparalleled prosperity.  But what happened ? Within a year and a half she was fighting a guerrilla revolt from below (it was not called terrorism then) which all but upset her government. In 1977, J R Jayewardene won a five-sixth victory in the elections which he thought would have enabled him to turn a man into a woman and vice versa. But what happened? In 4 years the accumulated deficits of his predecessors, and his own unenlightened policies, ignited an ethic imbroglio which was seismic and whose reverberations continue unabated to this day. Both these movements which presaged instability came not from a political, parliamentary opposition but from forces which seemed to arise, unexpectedly to those in the seats of power, from deep subterranean, systemic causes. How far have these ‘structural faults’ in the terrain on which the game of politics is played, been resolved or eradicated by what has happened in the last few years ?

Not to any great extent in this writers assessment.

Take poverty and the unemployment of educated youth which were the triggers of the J V P rebellion of the 1970’s and eighties, for example. The official figures based on data from 18 districts (the other seven in the North and East were not counted for well known reasons) say that the level of poverty has now been reduced from 23% which it was, according to World Bank figures in 1998, to 13%, while some districts like Moneragala record figures as high as 37%. The President frequently quotes a Central Bank mantra that per capita GDP has doubled from $ 2000 to $4000. Nice, round sums which carry the image of people with nice, round bellies. (No one contests this, although surely the GDP denominator on which these statistics are based is not corrected for inflation).

Anecdotal evidence from our rural areas hardly supports this improved state of well – being. If at all, the sight of more tiled roofs, cement floors and so in our villages  is due to increased foreign remittances from foreign employment of our women or the hours they spend in the nearby garment factory. And, Employment (with ever increasing educated unemployment as a result of more students exiting the school system each year) has been through heavy recruitment into the armed services, or politically motivated entry into a heavily overloaded state system. Other than these two avenues for the politically correct there has been hardly any other absorption of new entrants into the workforce. Both avenues – garment factories and military service are now drying up. Even the safety valve of low – paid employment abroad will shrink as firms abroad economize in line with the lessons the recent global recession has taught them.  The powder keg of frustrated youth can be explosive.  One of the post-war priorities will be how to assuage this compelling need.

If the prosperous future based on rapid, sustainable and equitable  development in the South is one strand of the Governments post-war vision, the other must be the fulfilment of its hope that the ‘defeat of terrorism’ would free the North (and East) for investment and re – connection with the rest of the country. Here too as we saw in the discussion above there seem to be some ‘torpedoes’ which should caution any expectation of immediate high returns. There appears to be much work yet to be done before that goal could be realized.

How zealously, for example, is the defeat of terrorism being celebrated in the North and how is this to be made congruent with the reconciliation objective with the now alienated bulk of the Tamil people. The end of Prabhakaran and the militarism of the LTTE may be widely welcomed by the mothers of children who were forcibly drafted into its cadres. But is the cause for which he fought misguidedly and hopelessly maybe, also be forgotten and put away so easily? The strength which the trans- national government idea seems to have derived in the Tamil diaspora after the LTTE should caution us that the incipient drive for autonomy or major devolution has not been killed along with Prabhakaran and the demise of the LTTE. Indeed the results of the recent Parliamentary elections and the strong performance of ITAK should serve as an early warning that a political solution to the ethnic problem must remain a priority in the business of Government. Regrettably there has been little evidence of this in the recent actions of Government.

After all the pain and suffering they have been through in so many years the Northern Tamil may not disclose his or her thoughts in any public poll. But any disinterested observer of the evolving situation in most of the five districts which make up the Northern Province would see the following three elements as being highly important in any real recovery programme.

Firstly, urgent and effective action on devolution of power from the Centre which feeds into the constitutional reform process now being planned. Mere representation in a Senate of indeterminate status will be a cheap substitute for a degree of autonomy resembling at least that of an Indian state government.

Two; urgent action on reducing the high military component in the Jaffna Peninsula, the symbolic home of the Tamil people. The Mahinda Chintana 2010 states that ‘By the year 2012 Jaffna city will be made one of the most outstanding cities in South Asia’ (page 62). Leaving aside the hyperbole which accompanies this Manifesto of the Government let’s hope that as a preliminary step the army vacates the locations it occupies in the city and that the High Security Zones which apparently take up one-third of the arable land of this densely populated peninsula will as a follow up to an election promise, be soon restored to the rightful owners.

Three; that the process of reconciliation between the Sinhala and Tamil people be conducted on a tested basis using the lessons learned from other parts of the world which have experienced similar trauma. In this respect a word about the proposed Presidential Commission of Inquiry into alleged ‘war crimes’ may be not out of place. This has been announced along with the promise of ‘restorative justice’, a la Bishop Desmond Tutu’s South African Truth Commission. While the names of the seven Commissioners (from here and abroad) and the Commission’s Terms of Reference are eagerly awaited, some have already averred that the timing is singularly appropriate given the impending visit of the Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary, Foreign Affairs and the Attorney General to Brussels to plead for reconsideration of the E U decision to terminate the GSP + concession. If the Commission were only to forestall the E U intention and lacked sincerity of purpose it would hardly help the reconciliation process. The untimely fate of the Presidential Commission headed by Justice Udalagama two years ago, into the 17 high profile political murders of that period of history and the summary treatment which the International Body of Experts headed by Justice P N Bhagavati received in its review of the work of the Presidential Commission is still remembered.

The experience of Presidential Commissions appointed to examine the misdeeds of Police and military officers by earlier administrations too has not been great. Public Commissions of Inquiry into allegations against military officers in the past have generally been of no credibility as President Premadasa’s Commission into the pitiable alleged massacre of 167 civilians in Kokadocholai in 1991 would show. Independently financed and staffed Commissions of Inquiry might do a better job but which President’s Office would agree to such an arrangement, ‘interfering with the sovereignty’ of the country. But not ensuring a process with the modicum of sincerity and some possibility of getting at the facts would be worse than useless. No reconciliation would result. Only the pain and inextinguishable memory of those scarred will remain.

• “Today’s terrorist is today’s and tomorrow’s murderer”: Resolving violent conflict in Sri Lanka
• On Commission and Omission
• Opportunities and challenges facing post-war Sri Lanka
• The post-Prabhakaran government strategy in Sri Lanka and overseas
• Official transcript of LLRC oral submission by Mr. Jayantha Dhanapala

‘Terrorism’, however, was only one facet of the problem. The moment that ugly facet becomes non-existent, the moment there is an absence of a violent armed conflict, problems which remained unresolved, problems which could not be resolved through the use of force, re-emerge, re-surface. Political developments which soon followed the defeat of the LTTE proved this, to some extent. An acrimonious debate ensued concerning the 13^th Amendment (Did not, for a brief moment in our history, the 13^th Amendment become something like the 6^th Amendment, like ‘separatism’; something no one could utter a word in favour of?) Then, unfortunate developments surrounding a confused, misguided and revengeful Army Commander unfolded in quick succession. Thereafter the people, a vast majority, indicated on whose side they stood; at the Presidential and General elections. As a consequence, there is, now, a very strong government; strong here meaning a government that cannot be brought down easily. There is also a very weak opposition; weak here meaning an opposition that cannot be resuscitated easily.

Soon after the defeat of terrorism there arises, in the mind, that inevitable question of whether terrorism would re-surface in the future (suffering, anxiety, which knows no end, which is unending). This question in turn raises much broader questions. Now that violent terrorism has been defeated, how, and in what way, should different ethnic groups co-exist within a multi-ethnic State, peacefully? How, and in what way, should we, the people, act? How long would it take for ‘peace’ to arrive, and from where (if not from our heart), would ‘peace’ begin its long journey? What should be done, what should we do, to achieve ‘peace’? (Why do we still ask this latter question, in a country which is full of ‘peace-loving’ and friendly people? Are we, really, a ‘peace-loving’ people, and if so in what way, to what extent? Are problems the creations of politicians only, of successive Parliaments, of Parliamentarians? Or is the Parliament, its composition, a microcosm of the larger society that we live in?)

It is not possible to answer these questions, these complicated questions, satisfactorily. There may be no clear answers to such questions, anyway. Yet, there may be certain things, some obvious things, that evade us. Perhaps, the answer to many of our political problems rests in our own attitudes and perceptions, in our ability to ‘compromise’. But how difficult it would be to reach a compromise, by changing our deeply-held, deep-rooted, beliefs, attitudes and perceptions?

Such changes in our own attitude and approach are necessary when considering some of the critical challenges facing the country, today. Two such challenges would be: the ‘devolution of powers’ and the ‘promotion and protection of human rights and equality’ – issues on which people hold very strong and uncompromising views.

Consider the critical and contentious issue of devolution of powers – the “most intractable problem” – which touches that strong ‘nationalist nerve’ in many people, across the Sinhala-Tamil ethnic divide. It is one problem concerning which some form of a ‘compromise’ is quintessential, the resolution of which calls for that need to “hammer out a compromise”, as the late Minister Lakshman Kadirgamar put it, when he spoke in Parliament, in favour of the 2000 Draft Constitution (Kadirgamar: one who opposed the LTTE and was shot and killed by the LTTE, but nevertheless strongly believed in the idea of ‘power-sharing’, in the need for some resolution of the conflict, based, perhaps, on the lines of the 2000 Draft Constitution).

But, today, on the issue of devolution, is ‘compromise’ possible? Or is there any evidence to suggest that a ‘compromise’ is forthcoming?

On the one hand there are very strong views placed against the idea of ‘devolution’ – i.e. that devolution is unnecessary, that it is “development and not devolution”. The argument that the mandate received by President Rajapaksa does not make any significant reference to ‘devolution’ is also raised. The 13^th Amendment is claimed to be unnecessary and an absolute failure (Was it not due to the inability and/or unwillingness to implement? Is the waste of resources a problem of the document or more of a problem regarding those who were supposed to implement it?). Recently, a subtle rubbishing of the 13^th Amendment did take place when Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa was interviewed by Al-Jazeera (Question: in such a context, how could President Rajapaksa rubbish Mr. Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s views, by fully implementing the 13^th Amendment, now, as promised?)

On the other hand, the case in favour of devolution/power-sharing resonates strongly in the views expressed by many Tamil politicians, in particular; from ITAK’s R. Sambanthan to UPFA’s Douglas Devananda. Reference is made not only to the 13^th Amendment, but also to, for instance, the 2000 Draft Constitution and the APRC-Majority Report of the Panel of Experts.

How then would there be a compromise? One would not believe in the concept of a ‘traditional homeland’ or in a merged North-East, and would dismiss these ideas as political myths. But the fact that the majority of the North and the East consist of Tamil speaking people is not a myth, along with the fact that this demand for power-sharing had always been the predominant demand of the Tamil minority, or its representatives, elite or otherwise.

In such a context, how does one approach the issue of ‘devolution’? Perhaps the responsibility falls on both (or all) ethnic groups. The political leadership representing the majority would need to understand that this notion of ‘devolution’ cannot be rubbished off easily, cannot be dumped in a political dustbin, so conveniently and easily as one would like to do. The political leadership representing the minority would also need to understand that their demands would need to be couched in less inflammatory language; a language which does not resemble that of the Provisional Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam, for instance. There would also be a need to approach the idea of power-sharing from a citizen’s perspective; to regard devolution as a tool that empowers the people at the periphery; as a tool that effectively challenges an all-powerful centre, whenever necessary. Yet, it would be a serious mistake to imagine that that kind of approach means that the unit of devolution ought to be the Gamsabha or Janasabha (In this regard, would one forget that even the APRC-Minority Report states that the unit of devolution should be primarily the existing ‘province’?)

In reaching this compromise (‘would there be a compromise?’ is a recurring question, a doubtful prospect) there is also another critical factor which needs to be borne in mind; i.e. that ‘devolution’ would not work (or logically, it cannot work) unless of course there is a serious commitment, a parallel and simultaneous commitment, to constitutionalism, the rule of law, the establishment of independent institutions and a firm resolve to promote and protect human rights and equality. It is a great fantasy to imagine that significant devolution would resolve all problems the moment it is agreed upon and put down on paper. Even if there is a compromise reached, it would not be long lasting, unless there is commitment shown concerning the above issues as well.

But here again, there is an enormous challenge. On constitutionalism and the rule of law, Sri Lanka’s track record, unfortunately, is a dismal one. So too, with regard to the promotion and protection of human rights and equality; an issue over which many seem to have very fixed, even uncompromising, views; an issue, then, which needs to be approached with a changed attitude and mindset, today.

There is too much concern about the problem of the ‘West’. The ‘West’ displays hypocrisy when it talks about human rights protection, since it continues to show that its practice, elsewhere in the world, is no different. Such hypocrisy needs to be exposed. But in doing so, there is a tendency to view the notion of ‘human rights’ as simply a Western-liberal notion, without understanding that the moment one views ‘human rights’ as simply a Western concept, one’s resentment towards the West shapes the way in which one approaches all that is perceived to be Western concepts’; forgetting completely and even conveniently, the importance attached to the protection of human rights in our own Buddhist teaching and philosophy (or in any other religion) for example. Unless one’s attitude changes in a more positive way, there will not be any progress in relation to the improvement of own human rights standards. President Rajapaksa reminded the world in September 2007 that human rights have been an essential part of Sri Lanka’s cultural tradition and human rights protection is “nothing new for us”. True. But one needs to go further, and prove, that this is so even today, that this cultural tradition has not stopped, that it continues (And what a shame for a country with such a rich and glorious tradition, to be continually reminded of the importance of human rights protection, and that too, by the EU or the ‘West’).

So too is the case of ‘equality’. If the country and its people are burdened by that problem of complex – the ‘majority with a minority complex and a minority with a majority complex’ – then, ‘equality’ becomes a terrible problem, one that threatens one’s perceived status (that dominant status, that rightful place) in society. Demanding ‘equality’ or the respect for ‘equality’ is easy, but that demand becomes meaningless if one is not ready to accommodate what this ‘equality’ would necessarily mean; i.e. inter alia, equal status in society, equal citizenship, opportunities based on meritocracy, independent institutions etc. (How would a strong Sinhala or Tamil nationalist view ‘equality’? Does ‘equality’ shatter ideologies, nationalist ideologies?). Ensuring ‘equality’, too, is a great challenge.

Conclusion
The year was 2005, the year in which he was killed. Mr. Kadirgamar, who had delivered a lecture (“Third World Democracy in Action: Sri Lanka’s Experience”) at an event organized by the SAIS-Johns Hopkins, was asked a question (the audio recording, which I listened to on the web, seems to be, unfortunately, unavailable now). The question was asked by one; whether there would be an end to our conflict during his lifetime. Mr. Kadirgamar (was it a humorous or poignant tone) answered: ‘it depends on how long you are going to live’ (Was he thinking about the difficulty of resolving the conflict with an armed and violent terrorist group, or of the conflict, in general). How would one answer, how differently could one answer, that question, today?

There would be no announcements made; ‘The Government of Sri Lanka officially declares and confirms that peace has finally arrived and all the people are living peacefully’. There would be no possibility of lighting fire-crackers or cooking kiri bath, to celebrate ‘peace’. An opportunity, a tremendous opportunity, has arrived, now that there is an absence of violent conflict; but success depends on how well that opportunity is used, or utilized. There is, therefore, that challenge, as always: to try and make today a more ‘peaceful’ day than yesterday, to make tomorrow a more ‘peaceful’ day than today, however arduous that may be – until, suddenly, a different kind of peace overwhelms one, as it inevitably should, one fine day.

[The writer thanks the editors of Groundviews for the kind invitation extended to him to contribute this article for a Special Edition which marks the completion of one year since the military defeat of the LTTE, in May 2009]

• A response to Dayan Jayatilleka’s “Mindless emotionalism and absence of thinking in Tamil politics”
• An exclusive interview with Eastern Province Chief Minister Pillayan after the TMVP’s arms decommissioning
• An alternative grid map of political opinion serving the best interests of Sri Lanka
• Exclusive video interview with Somawansa Amarasinghe, the Leader of JVP, in English
• Post Arbour

For President Mahinda Rajapakse and the government elected on an overwhelming  ‘gratitude vote’ for providing political leadership to crush the Liberation Tigers militarily, the post war call is to rebuild the lives of 22 million people-beyonds the rubble of yesteryear.

If winning the war was no mean task, leading this country post war to new heights and to achieve its true potential will prove a bigger challenge. This requires a collective and concerted effort to go beyond the war psyche that continues to grip Sri Lankan society.

Two crucial elections have been fought and won by the incumbency this year largely on the emotional premise of ‘a public demonstration of gratitude’ (read sometimes servitude) than to make prudent political choices. The appalling quality of some legislators demonstrates at what price gratitude may be expressed but that’s entirely a different topic.

It is no mean task to end a socio-economically as well as politically costly war. But a year later, the question is not about resting on laurels but about the need to create a winning formula that could take Sri Lanka beyond its present political wasteland.

History is replete with examples of war winning leaders being ousted from power only to be replaced by more strategic managers of economies. But the large majority of Sri Lankans, having entrusted the task of eradicating the LTTE militancy to the Rajapakse administration, installed them back in power- this time to lead a different war towards economic prosperity.

As we make grand plans for economic advancement and seek to absorb Malaysian and Singaporean economic models,  on the downside , such focus  indicates a willingness to compromise democratic fundamentals upon which this society was created and nurtured.

The war being over in May 2010, Velupillai Pirapaharan’s ability to revise the nation’s agenda sans notice and bombs that go off that instilled fear in people is now history. Yet the real challenge before President Mahinda Rajapakse is to ensure the transition of this nation into a true democracy.

Besides, in the absence of the LTTE, the government is faced with a unique opportunity to strike a better political bargain with the Tamil leadership in addressing the root causes of conflict.  The Tamil political leadership has been diluted and splintered in and there less likelihood for them to act like prisoners of some Tamil militant group and to make extreme demands that may be unacceptable to the majority.  Yet, the government remains stoically silent on the most vital question.

In a post war analysis, it is pertinent to flag some concerns the citizens have including the possibility of the re-emergence of violent conflict.  The Rajapakse administration appears to be concentrating fully on a developmental drive despite the absence of significant aid (hence the backdoor negotiations to urgently secure the GSP + facility).

But what is needed to complete socio-political transition in a country that has suffered three decades of war, the commitment to address the root cause of the conflict is nowhere in sight.

To begin with, the incumbency should have taken measures to ensure de-escalation and demilitarisation so that the rule of law can take root.  It is undeniable that huge compromises were made in this regard and provisions of the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) and Public Security Ordinance (PSO) in effect overruled many other laws.

It is only fair that the citizenry be allowed to experience normalcy, more so in the north east where thousands are still huddled in displaced camps. The introduction of normalcy can take place only if the government demonstrated a serious commitment to de-escalate and demilitarize-but no such action appears in the horizon yet.

Let it not be forgotten that the war effectively turned this nation into a national security state and the military defeat of the Liberation Tigers was achieved at great human and financial cost. Good governance and civil liberties took severe beatings in the process, but this should have been, at its worst, a very temporary state.

While it is a welcome change to hear about the appointment of a commission similar to South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the results of such an effort may prove futile in a country where the chief executive himself defines who a patriot and a traitor would be and systematically divides the citizens into two broad camps. It certainly is no formula for healing ethnic wounds or promoting integration.

During this month, two positive developments have indeed taken place.  The government introduced effective amendments to the emergency regulations, enacted under the Public Security Ordinance (PSO) and jailed journalist J S Tissainayagam was granted a presidential pardon to coincide with the International Press Freedom Day on May 3.  Yet these two moves are of symbolic value and too little for a nation that needs to experience more visible signs of demilitarisation to and a state of normalcy.

Though the election campaigns were replete with promises that range from dismantling high security zones to immediately resettling the internally displaced to generating thousands of jobs to curbing corruption, they simply remained election pledges.  It is pertinent to note that the need to address the root causes of the conflict did not even make to these war- hyped platforms, though so vital to complete this nation’s transition from a national security state to a post war, growth- driven and politically mature nation.

Yet, with the burdensome war consigned to history, Sri Lanka is presented with a unique opportunity to develop itself. This requires strategy and political maturity.  If the priority in May 2009 was to fight the war to an absolute end, a year later it is restoration of democracy, rule of law, ethnic integration and ensuing normalcy in the island.  Only huge efforts in these areas could augment effort at nation building.

The Sri Lankan opposition is virtually crippled in many ways. The common opposition candidate, Retd. Gen. Sarath Fonseka has been brought before a military tribunal for alleged conspiracy to overthrow the government, a clear message that Sri Lanka does not shy away from the Burmese model of dealing with democratic opposition. Less said of the fragmented United National Party (UNP) the better, except to note that the UNP’s perpetual leadership crisis only strengthens a government that relishes concentration of power.

Despite riding a popular wave, the government continues to wage a separate war against the media, and a presidential pardon to a single journalist, a very welcome move, till cannot conceal the reality of continued harassment experienced by individual journalists and media houses. Post war, journalists have also felt compelled to temporarily leave the country amidst continued and systematic harassment of certain sections of the media and of course the plight of missing political cartoonist Pradeep Ekneligoda remains a mystery.

The hype of recent times is about northeastern resurgence and Sri Lanka becoming Miracle of Asia. Indeed there are many developmental projects underway in the once war ton areas and it is hoped that the local people will soon benefit from these projects and enjoy the fruits long denied economic advancement.

But theirs is a social fabric torn asunder by militancy. The LTTE may not be active anymore, but there are other armed groups, some working with the government.  People are separated from their families, lost their homes, livelihoods and basic rights. Restoring their lives require a different miracle and this miracle must happen for Sri Lanka to move forward.

It is time to strengthen Sri Lanka’s democratic institutions and to introduce a more liberal legal regime that would not compromise civil liberties. It is time to embrace a new culture of openness and unity and a time for celebrating peoples’ fundamental freedoms.

Whether President Rajapakse is confident and mature enough to ensure those socio-political, legal and economic changes will ultimately be his litmus test.  He has certainly walked away with the trophy by defeating the LTTE. But the world continues to watch him as to how he may lead this nation beyond the phase of war.

If the President is keen to maintain his popular base and to go down in history as the leader who actually placed Sri Lanka under the sun, it is hoped he would take meaningful steps to complete the vital transition. Only then can there be permanent peace and Sri Lanka can be justly proud of what it can become.

[Editors note: The author is a lawyer by training having specialized in international law. A journalist for over 17 years, she has extensively covered the areas of politics, conflict, environment, culture, and history and gender issues. Groundviews interviewed Dilrukshi on Human Rights Day 2009 on the murder of Lasantha Wickremetunge, the Editor of the Sunday Leader, media freedom and human rights in post-war Sri Lanka.]

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