Sahasamvada

PROJECT Belonging: Photo montages of Sri Lankans living in Switzerland

2011-09-02T12:13:00.000-07:00

This project intends to share personal stories and anecdotes of people who would otherwise be categorised into a generic migrant community; a glimpse into the lives of these people which could break down stereotypes and facilitate co-existence with not only the host community but also with other migrant communities. The project also hopes to enable a deeper understanding within the Sri Lankan diaspora particularly as a reconciliatory step towards bringing the Sinhalese, Tamil and Muslim populations together.

To view photo Montage, The Entrepreneur http://vimeo.com/27938892

a grain of sand: Granito

2011-03-19T13:33:00.000-07:00

The scorched earth campaign to exterminate the Mayans during Guatemala’s 36 year civil war, spearheaded by General Rios Montt, dictator and military leader, responsible for massacres, rape and torture, was found by a UN backed Truth Commission to be an act of deliberate genocide. Pamela Yates’ documentary film ‘When the Mountains Tremble’ and its outtakes narrated by Nobel laureate Rigoberta Menchú are being used 26 years later as forensic evidence. It has resulted in an indictment for Montt on grounds of genocide in a case brought by Menchú herself. ‘Granito: how to nail a dictator’ documents this process and the role of documentary filmmaking in recording evidence, opening up new means of redress for human rights abuses around the world and in the specific context of Sri Lanka, where the evidence of abuses of its civil war remain scattered across the globe.

Granito trailer from Skylight Pictures on Vimeo.

Listen to Pamela Yates on the weekly podcast of the International Centre for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) http://ictj.org/en/news/features/4509.html

Photo credit: Jean-Marie Simon

a step towards creating alternative dialogue through short/ documentary films within the Tamil diaspora

2010-12-07T07:28:00.000-08:00

Tanuja Thurairajah

The calm waters ripple; the clear blue skies are ripped apart by distant gunfire. The opening frames of 'A mango tree in the front yard' sets a premonitive mood to the film about to unravel. Simple, stark and uncomplicated in its delivery, Pradeepan Raveendran's short film captures the essence of the key actors behind the war and the peoples who are caught within. Each frame consists of symbols of a generic war but many nuances are quite specific in its relation to the Sri Lankan context. His second short film 'Shadows of Silence' highlights his directorial growth and deep insight into an innate element of the Tamil diaspora; depression and disillusionement.The symbolic imagery is strong and provacative and succinctly highlights issues which are commonly found in most first generation migrants; a portrait of loneliness, sexual repression and worthlessness.

http://www.exilimage.com/exil/Shadows_of_Silence.html

Leena Manimekalai's documentaries 'Altar' and her more recent 'Goddesses' are powerful brushstrokes on an eroding social fabric which form the backdrop to the lives of the woman protagonists who are personifications of incredible resilience and inner strength. 'Altar' speaks of the custom of child marriage and polygamy within the Kambalathu Naicker community in Central Tamil Nadu providing a stark insight into repressive practices in the name of culture and custom. 'Goddesses', which won the Golden Conch at the Mumbai International Film Festival on the other hand is a celebration of strength and integrity of three remarkable women easing the audience into an aura of positivity and hope.

http://goddessesthefilm.blogspot.com/

Sumathy Sivamohan's 'Oranges' explores relations between a Tamil woman and a Sinhalese man played on the backdrop of an encroaching war. Her portrayal of a middle class woman in an urban context lends an interesting dimension that breaks the stereotypical perception of the affects of the conflict as usually contained to the war ravaged areas of the North and East. The contiguous portrayal of archival shots of historical events spark off painful memories of devastation and human loss.

These films were screened recently in Zurich to a mixed audience of Swiss/Europeans and Sri Lankans many of whom were Tamils with a view of opening up dialogue and initiating an environment for an alternative culture of expression. The 47,000 Sri Lankan Tamils living in Switzerland which was at one point an important fundraising hub of the LTTE has a very inactive and fragmented diaspora population in comparison to their counterparts, for example in the UK or Canada. The post-war scenario has positive vibrations that must also spread to such diaspora communities to open up healthy and alternative dialogue. As a small step towards this the first screening of the above mentioned films was held at the Kino UTO organised by the Ahara Alternative Cultural Circle, a group comprising of like-minded individuals and social activists, on August 29, 2010. The brief discussion which followed was facilitated by the organisers and Director Pradeepan Raveendran, concentrated mostly on the interpretation of the short films, especially in terms of 'A mango tree in the front yard' which was screened at the 59th Berlin International Film Festival for the Berlinale Shorts competition. This short film created many questions in the minds of some of the audience who were unaware of the background and consequences of the specific context of conflict in Sri Lanka. This should be deemed as a positive aspect in terms of the role of the short film and its storyline even though on a very technical level there is room for it being interpreted as a shortcoming. A short film is a very restricted but powerful mode of cinema and moving beyond the question of whether it carries a message, its effectivity should be essentially measured in terms of the feel or emotions it succeeds in creating and in arousing the desire to be more informed about the specific context in which it is set.

The second screening, presented by a multicultural theatre group, MAXIM Theatre in Zurich on September 25, 2010 saw more Sri Lankan Tamils in its audience. The short films by Pradeepan Raveendran as well as Lisa Kois' documentary film, 'The Art of Forgetting' created an intense and interesting exchange of views on many issues which arose from the films, once again facilitated by the organisers and Director Pradeepan Raveendran who was present on that day. 'Shadows of Silence' which was premiered at the prestigious Directors Fortnight of the Cannes Film Festival in 2010, created a very strong impact on some of the young, second generation members in the audience who took home with them many questions of life in exile and the future of the diaspora. Lisa Kois' documentary which was shot between 2002 to 2005, 'uses the power of memory to break through the silence and anonymity that characterises dominant discourses of war'. In the post-war context the issues that are brought out by this film has immense topical relevance. One of the tag lines used in the film 'Some say there are two stories in Sri Lanka...the story of the North and the story of the South' characterises a very dominant reality in the history and the future of the peoples of Sri Lanka and the need and the inability of a political and democratic environment that necessitates a process of rememberance. One of the statements at the discussion again from a second generation youth, 'I did not realise that the Sinhalese people had suffered a lot too' lent an interesting insight into how information on the history of conflict and suffering is transfered to second and third generation diaspora which ultimately creates intransigent opinions and a misinformed generation.

Documentary and short film genres are new to the consumption trend of the Tamil speaking masses both in Sri Lanka and in the diaspora mostly due to a severe shortage of Tamil cinematic productions of this genre. In this context the Tamil speaking audiences have become ready consumers of South Indian cinema churned out of a thriving film industry, changing and dominating the consumption patterns of the masses. The initial problem lies when people fail to open up to the experience of such film genres which would enable a gradually process of familiarisation and appreciation of an alternative film culture which presents a part of reality through documentary films or in terms of short films, a sliver of fiction and reality cleverly juxtaposed.

Courtesy: www.lankasolidarity.org, November 2010

LESSONS LEARNT: CONDUCTING OUR OWN EXERCISE

2010-11-18T04:08:00.000-08:00

Essay from Issue N° 1 of DISSENTING DIALOGUES*
NOVEMBER 2010

Rohini Hensman
is a writer and researcher who was born and brought up in Sri Lanka, which is the setting for her second novel, Playing Lions and Tigers. She lives in Bombay and has been active in the trade union and women's liberation movements, as well as anti-war campaigns and struggles against the oppression of religious and ethnic minorities in India and Sri Lanka. Her publications include books and numerous articles on these issues.

Anyone who was expecting that democracy would be restored in Sri Lanka after the end of the war last May, would have been sadly disappointed. Not only were the various curbs on democratic rights and liberties retained, there were further assaults on them.

The internment of about 280,000 internally displaced persons in camps for months on end, violating their right to freedom of movement as well as other fundamental rights,was the first ominous sign.Continued attacks on freedom of expression, which gathered pace in the run-up to the presidential election in January 2010, was another. The way in which the election was conducted, and the arrest of opposition candidate Sarath Fonseka after it ended, marked an erosion of the right to elect one’s representatives in free and fair elections. This was further eroded in the April 2010 parliamentary elections and by the convictions of Fonseka in kangaroo courts, as a result of which he was stripped of his rank, honours, pension and parliamentary seat, and sentenced to rigorous imprisonment. The passage of the 18th Amendment, which not only nullifies the democratic safeguards of the 17th Amendment but also abolishes the two-term limit on the executive presidency, marks a new low in Sri Lanka’s postindependence history.

Unless we conduct our own exercise to understand how we ended up in this unenviable position and chalk out what we can do to get out of it, there is every reason to believe that the limited democratic space that still remains will gradually be shut down. Let us start with what we can learn from the passage of the 18th Amendment.

Absolute power

If a referendum were to be conducted asking the people of Sri Lanka whether it is or is not a good idea to give someone absolute power for life to commit any crime whatsoever with impunity, it is fairly certain that the majority would say: “No, it is not a good idea.” So how was such an amendment passed in parliament? How did the Supreme Court allow such a momentous bill to be rushed through without adequate discussion or debate?

One can only conclude that those who supported the amendment in parliament do not represent the people, and the Supreme Court judges who allowed the amendment to be rushed through did not carry out their duty of safeguarding the fundamental rights of the people. But how did these politicians and judges justify acting in this way? Some, clearly, were sycophants who would do anything to curry favour with the powers-that-be. But there were others who might have been capable of acting in a more principled manner, yet chose to bow down before the regime because they feared adverse consequences if they refused to do so.

These people in positions of relative power who nonetheless failed to take a stand against increasing state authoritarianism are reminiscent of the four judges whose stories are told in Stanley Kramer’s 1961 film, Judgment at Nuremberg, a fictionalised account of the post-World War II Nuremberg Trials. One character, judge Ernst Janning, was once a champion of justice, yet played a major role in turning the German legal system into an instrument of Nazism How could these eminent and apparently decent men have been complicit in the ghastly atrocities committed by the Nazi regime? The mystery is solved only when Janning makes a statement, showing how actions, which at first seemed trivial and innocuous – like swearing an oath of allegiance to the Nazis – led to deeper and deeper entanglement with the regime. Even when the full horror of Hitler’s agenda became clear to them, they justified staying at their posts with the argument that they were trying to prevent matters from getting even worse.

It appears that some of the opposition politicians who voted for the 18th Amendment, including those of the Socialist Alliance, did so for similar reasons: fearing that if they opposed the regime, their party would split or they would not be able to satisfy the needs of their constituents. It is possible that the Supreme Court judges feared they would be removed from office if they refused to allow the amendment to be rushed through as an urgent bill. Perhaps these judges and politicians felt that by staying at their posts, they could prevent matters from getting even worse. But for the judges in Nazi Germany, that turned out to be a delusion. What would really have prevented matters from getting worse would have been clear opposition to the fascist transformation of the state and society, but that was the course they did not take. Had the Sri Lankan judges insisted on a thorough debate plus passage in provincial councils and a referendum, had all the MPs from opposition parties voted against the amendment, it would have been defeated, and that would have prevented matters from getting even worse in Sri Lanka. But that was the course they did not take.

The United National Party did not vote for the amendment, but it did not vote and argue against it in parliament e i t h e r. Opposition leader Ranil Wickremesinghe has been criticised for being absent at the debate on the 18th Amendment, but what could he possibly have said that would not have sounded hypocritical? As a member of J. R. Jayawardene’s and Ranasinghe Premadasa’s UNP governments, he participated in their assaults on democracy – the 1978 Constitution, which introduced the authoritarian executive presidency, and the rigged 1982 referendum and subsequent rigged elections – and the horrors they perpetrated, including the anti-Tamil pogrom of 1983 and the torture and extrajudicial killings of Sinhalese in the late 1980s. Later, as leader of the opposition, Wickremesinghe sabotaged the constitutional proposal of 2000 (which would have made the 18th Amendment impossible if it had gone through), and played a negative role in the All Party Representative Committee process, which was aimed at democratising the state. Under his leadership, the UNP’s failure to stand for anything but a desire for power has meant a steady haemorrhage of defectors to the ruling alliance where the real power lies.The role of the UNP in eroding democracy and then blocking attempts to restore it helped to push the amendment through.

Civil society must rebuild democracy

There is a lesson here for civil society supporters of democracy: we cannot rely on the political leadership or even the judiciary to uphold the rule of law and democratic principles. On this occasion, MPs of the Tamil National Alliance and Democratic National Alliance/Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna voted and spoke against the amendment, and for that we must be grateful to them. But as of now, we cannot count on them to be the standardbearers of democracy in Sri Lanka. We need not go into the distant past to find occasions on which the JVP and Fonseka articulated Sinhala nationalist positions, nor did we see the TNA criticise the totalitarian politics of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam – even when it was holding hundreds of thousands of Tamil civilians hostage. Both Sinhala and Tamil nationalism have been responsible for the disastrous erosion of a democratic culture in Sri Lanka, and that process cannot be reversed unless and until there is an explicit critique of both by those who adhered to these ideologies.

So if we cannot rely on political leaders, where does that leave us? Perhaps the answer can be found in anotherv film about Germany, Alexander Kluge’s 1979 film, Die Patriotin (The Female Patriot). It follows Gabi Teichert, a history teacher, as she explores the reasons why she is so dissatisfied with the German history she has to teach. One of the conclusions she comes to is that it is the history itself that is unsatisfactory, and that everyone, no matter how humble, is involved in making history by his or her acts of commission and omission. While Kramer’s film offers an American view of how relatively powerful Germans contributed to Nazism by going along with it, Kluge shows how ordinary people could also have made difference by organising against the Nazi regime before it became so powerful that opposition was almost certain to result in death.

There are already people who have been penalised savagely for criticising or opposing the authoritarian policies of President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s regime, and some have even been killed. Under these circumstances, it certainly requires courage to take a principled stand and face the consequences. But the danger to each individual is reduced as the number of opponents rises, especially if they are organised. Isolated individuals can be picked off relatively easily, and if this has the desired result of terrorising the rest into passivity or compliance, then the strategy of repression has succeeded. The alternative is for large numbers of people to resist the growing totalitarianism in small ways that add up to make a significant difference. A totalitarian state cannot survive for long if civil society refuses to allow its democratic relationships and organisations to be destroyed. If a partial destruction has already taken place, then rebuilding has to start from below. Identifying ways in which this can be done would be the aim of our Lessons Learnt exercise.

ISSUE N° 1
NOVEMBER 2010 - CONTENTS
LESSONS LEARNT:
CONDUCTING OUR OWN
EXERCISE        Rohini Hensman

THE ANATOMY OF RAJAPAKSA
RULE               Tisaranee Gunasekara

THE LEGACY OF EMERGENCY
RULE                Wasana Punyasena

OUR SHARED RESPONSIBILITY
TO THE PEOPLES OF SRI
LANKA AND THE FIRST
NATIONS        Kevin Shimmin

TAMIL-MUSLIM RELATIONS:
REMEMBERING THE EVICTION
OF NORTHERN
MUSLIMS          SLDF London Chapter

DALIT POLITICS AND THE
URGENT NEED FOR A SOCIAL
MOVEMENT    Ragavan

REGIME CONSOLIDATION AND
THE PROMISE OF
SOVEREIGNTY AND
DEVELOPMENT Ahilan Kadirgamar

*dissenting dialogues is a social justice magazine that seeks to expand the space for dissent and critical dialogue on Sri Lanka. The magazine is currently facilitated by the Sri Lanka Democracy Forum with participation and contributions by others committed to a just, plural and democratic Sri Lanka. e-mail to: dissentingdialogues@gmail.com

Let's start a new Journey!

2010-10-19T02:49:00.000-07:00

Sri Lanka Democracy Forum (SLDF) and the Sri Lanka Islamic Forum-UK (SLIF-UK)
invite you to a public discussion on

Saturday 30 October from 2- 5 pm

Tamil - Muslim Relations: After 20 years of Expulsion of Northern Muslims

The venue:

Conference Room

3rd Floor, Berkeley Business Centre

44 Broadway, Stratford, London, E15 1XH

(nearest tube station: Stratford )

Panel discussion will be chaired by Najah Mohamed

Speakers:

1.Riza Yehiya and
2.Chinniah Rajeshkumar
3. Rajendran Ramamoorthy

Guest Speaker :

Ustaz.Hajjul Akbar (Sri Lanka)
The Return of the Northern Muslims

Rebuilding damaged relations between communities is fundamental for peace, reconciliation, and economic and political development; it is also key to resolving many of the questions facing Sri Lanka today, such as questions of democracy, justice and minority rights. How do we achieve this, after long-held attitudes have become entrenched by the conflict and there is no on-going effort at present, either by the State or civil society organisations to diffuse this situation and bring communities together?

While communities continue to remain polarised new developments are taking place at a rapid pace, and the fear is that this could only widen the misunderstandings between communities. The processes of return, resettlement and the rebuilding of community relations are inextricably intertwined. The resettlement question and return have to be viewed as being part of the process of rebuilding inter-community relations.

It is in this context we remember the eviction of the northern Muslims who were expelled from the northern province, in this month, October, exactly 20 years ago. They have languished in refugee camps in Puttalam while their neighbourhoods that they lived in the north for centuries have gradually lost all physical and cultural traces of their presence and history.

It is important to emphasise the positives of “Return” rather than dwell on the negatives. As such, it is important to recognise the right of the various IDP communities to return, and on the basis of this right of return, look at opportunities to turn the process of return to facilitate better community relations.

A campaign for the speedy return of northern Muslims is just and urgent and should be taken up as a challenge by all those campaigning for peace, democracy and justice in Sri Lanka.

The meeting will be held in Tamil. A Tamil leaflet is to follow.

Nirmala Rajasingam
SLDF Steering Committee member

nobody's people: World Refugee Day 2010

2010-06-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

by Tanuja Thurairajah

''There were 43.3 million forcibly displaced people worldwide at the end of 2009, the highest number since the mid-1990s. Of these, 15.2 million were refugees; 10.4 million who fell under UNHCR’s responsibility and 4.8 million Palestinian refugees under UNRWA’s mandate. The figure also includes 983,000 asylum seekers and 27.1 million internally displaced persons (IDPs)1.''

Today is World Refugee Day. A day to commemorate the reasons for continued cyles of displacement and loss of dignity. A day to remember that conflicts erase identities, constantly changing the social fabric of the world creating multi-cultural societies, identity politics and opening up fragmented and dispersed modes of conflict. The process of forced displacement or migration as a characteristic of human behaviour may have undergone changes in terms of patterns of displacement but it has been and always will be an excruciating and dehumanising process of vulnerability and rejection.

Statistics, theories and analyses of the phenomenon of displacement put aside, it is the human stories that seem to convulse the inner conscience of humanity. The story of Mehmet a young mother and her two daughters who survived an ardous and dangerous journey through land and sea from Eritrea leaving behind her husband in uncertain times, the story of Ravi from Sri Lanka who hid in a goods container crossing through Russia during the bitter cold winter or would it be the story of Mohammed and his teenage son who escaped from Afghanistan to establish a new life so that his wife could join him to saftey? But as these stories fade away and new stories emerge multiplying human suffering the degeneration of conflict becomes manifest and perhaps the continuous dissemination of such stories might be our last resort in appealing to the conscience of humanity.

1
2009 Global Trends: Refugees, Asylum-seekers, Returnees, Internally Displaced and Stateless Persons, UNHCR Report 2010

Photo courtesy: East Asia Forum

OPINION: what is happening here? - a poem by Thamizhpodiyan

2010-06-19T07:08:00.000-07:00

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

மே 18 இக்கு பிறகு எல்லாம் தலைகீழா தெரியுது எங்களுக்கு...

ஒண்டு நாங்கள் தலைகிழா நிக்கிறோமா?-இல்லை

எல்லாம் தலைகீழா நடக்குதோ?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

புலம்பெயர் தேசத்தில எல்லாமே புதிரா இருக்குது

புரிஞ்சு கொள்ள புத்தி மட்டாக்கிடக்குது

புதுசு புதுசா கனக்க முளைக்குது

எது விதை?எது களை எண்டு எவருக்கேனும் தெரியுமோ?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

தமிழர் பேரவை என்றோம்

உலகமெல்லாம் தமிழர் ஒருகுடை என்றோம்

ஓங்கி குரல் கொடுப்போம் என்றோம்

தோள் கொடுத்தோம்.

வட்டுக்கோட்டை என்றோம்

தமிழீழ தனியரசு என்றோம்

வாக்குப்போட்டம்.

நாடு கடந்த அரசு என்றோம்

மதினுட்ப அரசியல் சாணக்கியம் என்றோம்

அதுக்கும் வாக்குப்போட்டம்.

இப்ப மக்களவை எண்டுகினம்????

எத்தின தரம் தேர்தல் வைக்கிறது?

எத்தின தரம் மக்கள் பிரதிநிதிகளை தேர்ந்தெடுக்கிறது?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எனக்கொண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ..

பேரவையை கூட்டினது உலகத்தமிழர் பேரவை

வட்டுக்கோட்டையை செய்தது தமிழீழ நலன் விரும்பிகள்

நாடு கடந்த அரசை செய்தது மதியுரைக்குழு

மக்களவையை செய்யுறது யார்?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

மக்களவை நாடுகடந்த அரசின்ர அடித்தளம் எண்டுகினம்

ஆணிவேர் எண்டுகினம்

பக்க பலம் எண்டுகினம்

இரட்டைக்குழல் துப்பாக்கி எண்டுகினம்

நாடு கடந்த தமிழீழ அரசின் தூண் எண்டுகினம்

அடித்தளமும் ஆணிவேரும் தூணும் இல்லாமலா

நாடு கடந்த அரசு அமைத்தார்கள்?

கேக்கிறவன் கேணையன் எண்டால் கேப்பையிலும் பால் வழியும்

எண்ட பழமொழிதான் ஞாபகம் வருது....

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

பேரவை,வட்டுக்கோட்டை,நாடு கடந்த அரசு

செய்ய வேண்டிய வேலை கனக்க கிடக்கு

ஒண்டுக்கு மூண்டு கிடக்கு

பிறகேன் மக்களவை?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

மே 18 இக்கு பிறகு

கே.பி எண்டினம்

இல்லை கஸ்ரோ எண்டினம்

முதல்ல கே.பி துரோகி ஆனார்.

பிறகு கஸ்ரோ துரோகி ஆனார்.

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எனக்கொண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ..

சிலர் ஆய்வு செய்கினம்

சிலர் கட்டுரை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் கவிதை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் ஈ மெயில் அனுப்புகினம்

இதுவா 4ம் கட்ட ஈழப்போர்?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

கே.பி குறூப் எண்டு ஒண்டு

கஸ்ரோ குறூப் எண்டு ஒண்டு

இப்ப நோர்வே குறூப் எண்டு இன்னொண்டாம்!!!

"அண்ணை இருக்கிறார்.வருவார்" எண்டு இன்னொரு குறூப்.

யார் எண்டு சொல்லமாட்டம் ,காலம் வரும் வெளிப்படுவம் எண்டு இன்னொரு குறூப்.

அப்பிடியெண்டா நாங்கள் எந்தக்குறூப்?

தமிழ் மக்கள் எந்தக் குறூப்?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

ஒரு நேர உணவுக்கும் வழியில்லை

கற்பை காக்கவும் வேலியில்லை

நிம்மதியாய் படுத்துறங்கவும் பாயில்லை

நித்திரையே இல்லை

பொழுது விடியுமா என்ற ஏக்கம்

விடிந்தாலும் உயிரோடு இருப்போமா என்ற ஏக்கம்

வீடும் இல்லை, தாலியும் இல்லை,குங்குமம் இல்லை.

நிம்மதியாய் பொழுது விடிதலும் ஒரு நேர உணவும் தான் எங்கள் உறவுகளுக்கு இப்போது தமிழீழம்...!!!

கோவணத்துக்கே வழியில்லாமல் ஒட்டிய வயிறோடு உறவுகள் அங்கே......

இங்க என்ன நடக்குது?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

சிலர் ஆய்வு செய்கினம்

சிலர் கட்டுரை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் கவிதை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் ஈ மெயில் அனுப்புகினம்

இதுவா 4ம் கட்ட ஈழப்போர்?

சாதாரண அப்பாவித்தமிழர் நாங்கள்

தெளிவாக குழம்பிப்போய் இருக்கிறம்

குழம்பாமல் தெளிவா இருக்கிறவை

விளக்கமா தெளிவுபடுத்துங்கோ

எவர் வேண்டுமானாலும் பேசலாம்

என்ன வேண்டுமானலும் செய்யலாம்

எதை வேண்டுமானாலும் எழுதலாம்

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எனக்கொண்டும் விளங்கயில்லை

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

இதையெல்லாம் எழுதும் அருகதையும் யோக்கியமும் தகுதியும் எங்களுக்கு இல்லைத்தான் - ஆனால் எழுதும் வல்லமை திராணி இருக்கிறது.

இதை சொல்லும் எங்களை ஒநாய் என்றும் துரோகி என்றும்

பதிவு செய்யலாம்,சொல்லலாம்.

பழகிப்போச்சு.

எல்லோரும் மக்களின் உணர்வுகளையும் எழுச்சியையும் நம்பியே வண்டி ஓட்டுகிறோம்.

உணர்வுகள் மழுங்கடிக்கப்படும் போது, இல்லை எழுச்சி சிதறடிக்கப்படும் போது

மக்கள் விழித்துக்கொள்ளுவர்.

அப்போது தைரியமாய் மக்களின் கேள்விகளை யார் எதிர்கொள்கிறார்களோ?

அவர்களே பிழைத்துக்கொள்வர்.

மற்றவரெல்லாம் காணாமல் போவர்.

இலட்சியம் ஒன்று,நோக்கம் ஒன்று,போகும் இடமும் ஒன்று தான் - ஆனால்

போகும் பாதைகள் தான் வேறு வேறு என்கிறார்கள்

எத்தனை நாளைக்குத்தான் இந்த செப்படி வித்தை?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

தொலைந்து போன தமிழனின் விடுதலை விதையை

பட்டப்பகலில் சூரிய ஒளியில் இலகுவாய் தேடாமல்

நட்ட நடு இரவில் ஆளுக்கொரு திசையில் குருட்டு வெளிச்சத்தில் தேடுகிறோம்.

நாங்கள் எல்லோரும் ஒன்றாக நிற்கிறோம்

ஒற்றுமையும் ஒருங்கிணைப்பும் அநாதைகளாக நின்று அழுகின்றன.

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எனக்கொண்டும் விளங்கயில்லை

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

ஒன்றுபட்ட தமிழினம் உருக்குலைஞ்சு போவதைப்பார்த்து

சிங்களவன் வேடிக்கை பார்த்து சிரிக்கிறான்.

எங்களின் தலைகளில் நாங்களே மண்ணை அள்ளிப்போடுவதைப் பார்த்து

எள்ளி நகையாடி எக்காளமிடுகிறான் ராஜபக்ச.!

பேரவை என்றும்,நாடுகடந்த அரசு எண்டும்,வட்டுக்கோட்டை எண்டும் உடைந்து கிடக்கிறது புலம்பெயர் தமிழினம்

விழுந்தவனை மீண்டும் ஏறி மிதிக்கவா இன்னொரு தேர்தலும்?மக்களவையும்?

முடிஞ்சா இருக்கிற வீட்டை பலப்படுத்துங்கோ

அத்திவாரம் சரியில்லை,தூணுகள் சரியில்லை எண்டு

இருக்கிற வீட்டை இடித்துவிட்டு இன்னொரு வீட்டை கட்ட வேண்டாம்.

ஏற்கனவே வீடு கட்ட நிறைய செலவு செய்தாச்சு.

அத்திவாரம் போடுறம் எண்டும்,தூணுகள் கட்டுறம் எண்டும்

இருக்கிற வீட்டை உடைக்க வேண்டாம்?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

அண்ணை இருக்கிறார் எண்ட ஒரு துளி நம்பிக்கை இருந்தது

இப்ப அதுவும் இல்லை..!!!

புலம்பெயர் தேசத்து பிச்சல்களும் புடுங்கல்களும்தான் இந்த நம்பிக்கையீனத்துக்கு காரணம்.

கழுத்தறுப்புகளும்,காட்டிக்கொடுத்தல்களும்,பழிவாங்கல்களும் அண்ணையின் இருப்பை கேள்விக்குறியாக்குகின்றன.!

கிண்டி கிழறப்பட்ட துயிலும் இல்ல எலும்புக்கூடுகளின் நடுவே...!!!

வீரமரணம் அடைந்த தீபன் அண்ணை,விதுசா அக்கா,துர்க்கா அக்கா,சாள்ஸ் அன்டனி,சொர்ணம் அண்ணையின் சாம்பல்களுக்கு நடுவே...!!!

அண்ணையையும் தேடுகிறோம்......

விம்மி வெடிக்கும் நெஞ்சோடு...

குருதி வடியும் கண்களோடு...

ஆனால் அண்ணை உயிரோடுதான் இருக்கிறார்

எங்களின் வீடுகளின் சுவர்களில் கம்பீரமாக படமாக....!!!!

கேள்வி கேட்பவர்களையெல்லாம் துரோகிகள் ஆக்கும்

குறூப்பிடம் எங்களின் பெயர்களையும் பரிந்துரையுங்கள்

ஏற்கனவே நாங்கள் துரோகிகள் - இனிமேல்

இதையெல்லாம் எழுதிய பின் லெப்டினன் கேணல் துரோகிகள்

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

சிலர் ஆய்வு செய்கினம்

சிலர் கட்டுரை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் கவிதை எழுதுகினம்

சிலர் ஈ மெயில் அனுப்புகினம்

இதுவா 4ம் கட்ட ஈழப்போர்?

என்ன நடக்குது இங்க?

எங்களுக்கு ஒண்டும் விளங்கயில்ல...

யாருக்கேனும் தெரிஞ்சா சொல்லுங்கோ...

-தமிழ்ப்பொடியன்-

Vanni Narratives

2010-06-03T01:19:00.000-07:00

by Dr. Daya Somasundaram

Abstract

This paper looks at what happened to the people of the Vanni in 2009 as the Sri Lankan armed forces destroyed the Liberation Tigers, a designated terrorist organization.

A population of 300,000 underwent multiple displacements, deaths, injuries, deprivation of water, food, medical care and other basic needs caught between the shelling and bombings of the state forces and the LTTE which forcefully recruited men, women and children to fight on the frontlines and held the rest hostage. The exposure to massive, existential trauma resulted in the tearing of the social fabric described here as collective trauma.

Introduction

Tham Thimithimithom Thaiyathom
Tham Thimithimithom
Living we were- on Vanni soil
Living we were
Educating ourselves we were - Joyfully
Educating ourselves we were
Running around we were - with friends
Running around we were
Came the airplanes- on us
Throwing bombs
Died relations- our
Relations fell
Race destroyed- Tamil
Race disappeared
Life destroyed- our
Life scattered
Suffering saw- we
Sadness imposed
Caged by war- we were
Trapped in suffering
Enough the sorrow- we
Escape to survive - Song/Poem by Vanni IDP school student

What happened in the Vanni and to its people from August 2006 onwards, particularly from January 2009 to May 2009, has been described in apocalyptic (in the local Tamil as pralayam) terms (CPA, 2009; HRW, 2009; University Teachers for Human Rights ( Jaffna ), 2009). The total destruction of civilian infrastructure that ensued in the bitter fight to the end between the Sri Lankan military forces and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) with 3 an estimated civilian population of around 300, 000 trapped in between is ineffable, the human calamity too difficult to capture in words or pictures. A common refrain from people who were there has been ‘varthayal varnicca mudiyathavai (it is beyond description by words)’(Anonymous, 2009b). When one meets or sees survivors even in January, 2010 in the various internment camps, public places like bus stands or in private homes, they are obviously in a thihaiththupona (daze) state, not having comprehended or come to terms with what happened. They stand out from the rest of humanity. Much of what happened is still shrouded in mystery and secrecy. There are several contested versions, discourses at play, battling to establish their perspective. The Sri Lankan state and military have actively striven to suppress the truth of the ensuing carnage for fear of investigations for war crimes (BBC Sinhala, 2010; Stein, 2010; US Department of State, 2009). There also appears to be a more long term effort to frame and reconstruct the collective memories and historical record in line with the political agendas of different actors. The Lankan state and Sinhala nationalist would like to paint it as a war against terrorism, deny an ethnic or minority problem and the Tamils as of relatively recent origin, migrants or invaders from South India in the last millennium (Bandarage, 2009; De Silva, 1998; Gunasekara, 2001). Indeed, internationally the LTTE had become branded as a terrorist organization by several countries including India , U.S. , U.K. , Canada , European Union , Australia , Malaysia and others. In contrast, Tamil nationalists portray the conflict as a liberation struggle of a suppressed minority, claiming the Tamils have inhabited the North and East from the beginning of history ( Bala singham, 2004; A. J. Wilson, 2000). However, the psychosocial impact on the civilians and the community and the consequences for their recovery remains a major concern addressed by this qualitative study.

Since the work of Sigmund Freud, it has become a basic principal aim of psychotherapy to bring out the repressed memories and associated emotions as a process of healing. This cathartic effect is believed to help people come to terms with what has happened and carry on with their lives. Following massive ethnic conflicts in South Africa , Rwanda and Bosnia there were attempts at reconciliation through ‘healing of memories’ using techniques like truth commissions. If people can be given an opportunity to express their stories through words, poems, songs, drama, drawings or other creative arts, it is believed that would help in their recovery. It would provide some meaning for the enormous suffering they have undergone, hope for the future and trust in the world. It would also help others understand what has happened as well as create an enabling atmosphere for resolving contrasting views.

Memories can change over time depending on internal and external conditions. This is always a challenge in psychoanalysis and narrative ethnography. Child abuse, trauma, depression, grief, fear, wishes, desires and other strong emotions can repress or distort memories. Similarly, the external political environment or socio-cultural milieu can determine what can and what cannot be said. Silence in a situation of ‘repressive ecology’(Baykai, Schlar, & Kapken, 2004) is a survival strategy that can become ingrained and permanent. Thus peoples’ memories can become a field of intense contest, memories can be erased, and others created or changed. This paper will attempt to give a voice, narrate the stories, access the memories and describe the lived experience of those caught up in the fateful Vanni episodes from different perspectives.

Complex situations that follow war and natural disasters have a psychosocial impact on not only the individual but also on the family, community and society. Just as the mental health 4

effects on the individual psyche can result in non pathological distress as well as a variety of psychiatric disorders; massive and widespread trauma and loss can impact on family and social processes causing changes at the family, community and societal levels. A better understanding of the supra-individual reality can be sought through the ecological model of Bronfenbrenner (Bronfenbrenner, 1979) with the micro, meso, exo and macro systems or the individual nested in the family nested in the community (Dalton, Elias, & Wandersman, 2007; Hobfoll, 1998). Previous workers had already drawn attention to the community level problems caused by disasters. Kai Erikson (Erikson, 1976) gives a graphic account of Collective Trauma as ‘loss of communality’ following the Buffalo Creek disaster in the US . He and colleagues described the ‘broken cultures’ in North American Indians and ‘destruction of the entire fabric of their culture’ due to the forced displacements and dispossession from traditional lands into reservations, separations, massacres, loss of their way of life, relationships and spiritual beliefs (Erikson & Vecsey, 1980). Similar tearing of the ‘social fabric’ has been described in Australian aboriginal populations (Milroy, 2005). There was a description of ‘cultural bereavement’ due to the loss of cultural traditions and rituals in Indochinese refugees in the US (Eisenbruch, 1991) and collective trauma due to the chronic effects of war( Somasundaram , 1996). More recently, a number of discerning workers in the field have been drawing attention to the importance of looking at the family(Ager, 2006; L. Landau & J. Saul, 2004; Tribe, 2004; Tribe & Family Rehabilitation Centre Staff, 2004) and cultural dimension(De Jong, 2002 ; J. De Jong, 2004; Miller & Rasco, 2005; Silove, Steel, & Psychol, 2006) following disasters. Finally, Abramowitz (Abramowitz, 2005) has given a moving picture of ‘collective trauma’ in six Guinean communities exposed to war.

Background

The area called the Vanni compromises mainly the Districts of Killinochi and Mullaithivu and adjoining parts of Vavuniya and Mannar Districts in Northern Sri Lanka (see map). With the more recent migrations, an estimate of the total population would have been between 300,000 to 400,000 consisting exclusively of Tamils. Due to various political reasons the exact number remains controversial (UTHR-J, 2009). 5

Fig 1 Map of Vanni IDP’s (OCHA, 2009)

Folk lore, myth and history

The hoary beginnings of the people of the Vanni (Vanniar) ruled over by chieftains called Vannians (Indrapala, 1970; Pathmanathan, 1972) has not been clearly established but settlements have been dated back 2000 years(Pushparatnam, 2001). There is mention in the Konesar culvet and old vya song of sixty Vanniar coming from Madurai in South India accompanying the royal bride for the king at Anuradhapura in the first century BC ( Nada rasa, 1982). They were settled in Adangapattu (Unsuppressed place1)(Arruna Selladurai, 2007) while one became a Dishava in Kandy . Vanni came into the historical limelight around the beginning of the eleventh century (Indrapala, 1970; Pathmanathan, 1972; Silva, 2005; Yogasundram, 2006) when the Cholas from South India exerted their influence over Jaffna and encouraged settlements in the Vanni. And later, more prominently in the thirteenth century, the political space for the Vanni opened up to assert itself when according to partisan, versions2 , ‘invasions by (South) Indian mercenaries’, Magha from ‘Kalinga’ the most notorious of them, were blamed for the fragmentation of the Anuradhapura and Pollanaruwa Kingdoms of the Rajarata civilization (Greiger, 1964). However,

1 Interestingly for long periods from the 1990’s the whole of the Vanni together with other areas in northeast under LTTE control were called ‘uncleared’ (meaning not under state control) areas by the state. Adangapattu district is again mentioned as the residence of Paranda Vanniyan in Colonial British accounts.

2 These ethnocentric, somewhat mythic, accounts of the past feed into present day ethnic emotions, consciousness, polarized perceptions, relations and conflict ( Somasundaram , 1998; Somasundaram , 2010a) 6 other, more scholarly accounts, ascribe the breakdown to internal dynastic power struggles (Gunawardena, 1990; Spencer, 1990) and the neglect of the hydraulic infrastructure of the ancient civilization and consequent breeding of malarial Anopheles mosquitoes for the breakdown (Newman, 1968). The malaria ridden forests of the Vanni functioned as a buffer zone between the North and the South and could have been one of the primary causes for the separate evolution of the two ethnic identities. The Vanni chieftains appear to have paid some tributary to the more powerful rulers in the north or south as the power balance happened to be at that time, but had an independent spirit with a distinct naddar culture (Kailasapathy, 1982; Subramaniam, 1982) and dialect (language) of their own. Dissident and defiant groups found safe haven in the impenetrable forests of the Vanni from where they mounted reprisal attacks. However, this original group of peoples, way of life and language have now been assimilated into the mainstream cultures. Historically, the Vanni encompassed Mannar, Vavuniya, Trincomalee, Pollannaruwa, Batticaloa, Ampara and Puttalam hinterlands (Indrapala, 1970). The name Vanni is said to be derived from the Sanskrit and Tamil word for forest (vannam) or fire (vahni) , but there is also some historical evidence in Culverts and old songs that the Vanniar could have originally come from the large Vanniar clan/caste from North Arcot in South India (Indrapala, 1970). One of the traditional old temples is at Vattapallai dedicated to Kannahi or Pattini deyo in Sinhala. It is from here that an annual pilgrimage (paddayattarai) goes through forests to Kattirgamam (Kattragamma in Sinhala) in the East. In the western, Mannar side of the Vanni, Thirkatheeswaram temple and the Catholic Christian Madhu church, built on an old Amman temple, are popular places of pilgrimage of ‘Hindu’ Tamils, ‘Buddhist’ Sinhalese, ‘Christians’ and others.

The Vanniar are also reputed to belong to the warrior caste with heroic and marital skills. According to folklore, seven Vanni chieftains who fought unsuccessively against the Dutch committed suicide to avoid capture. They are still revered as heroic devas (gods) at Natchimar temples in the Vanni and Jaffna where lamps will be lit and drums beaten in their names every Tuesday and Friday(Ahalankan, 2010). The most famous of the Vanni chieftains was Pandara Vanniyan or Wanni Bandara in Sinhalese, the last king of the Vanni who fought against the Dutch and British colonial powers (Logeswaran, 1982; Aruna Selladurai, 2002). In alliance with the Kandy kingdom he drove Lt. von Drieberg and his garrison from the Mullaithivu fort capturing their canons and ‘overran the whole of the northern districts (Vanni) and the boldness to penetrate as far as Elephant pass into the Jaffna Peninsula ’(Lewis, 1895). From conventional warfare, he resorted to guerilla attacks and was finally defeated by Lt. von Drieberg when the British organized a three pronged attack from Jaffna , Mannar and Trincomalee around 1803. This was followed by ‘burning of all his houses and his people were dispersed into the jungle, and eventually out of the Vanni. The power of the Vanni Chiefs was thus finally and effectually extinguished’ (Lewis, 1895). Interestingly, folklore has it that Lt. von Drieberg was originally with the Dutch forces where he felt humiliated by Pandara Vanniyan for having defeated him several times, including a personal combat, and had been permitted to withdraw3 . He had stayed

3 The similarity to Gen. Sarath Fonseka who developed a passionate zeal to defeat the LTTE and Prabhakaran after being trapped in the early 1990’s at Pompamadu near Chettikulum in the Vanni by the LTTE when a Lt. Colonel earlier and later, surviving a near fatal suicide attack is striking. He led the war in the Vanni and was responsible for systematically and relentlessly pursuing the LTTE till they were completely destroyed is a Sinhala national hero of epic proportions. 7 on after the Dutch were ousted by the British to fight on to defeat Pandara Vanniyan. Pandara Vanniyan is valorized as an epic hero. He was declared a national hero by the prime minister and a statue of him was opened with much fanfare in Vavuniya at the main junction where the A-9 Highway between Jaffna and Kandy (& Colombo) meets the road to Mannar (and further down the road to Trincomalee) (Logeswaran, 1982). More recently, the LTTE leader, Prabhakaran, has been compared to him by present day Tamil nationalists, Karunanidhi the current Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu in his book, Payum Puli Pandara Vanniyan, and Nedumaran. The historical parallels to what happened in the Vanni recently are remarkable.

The old village, agricultural settlements of the Vanniar were mainly centered around water resources such as tanks and ponds outside the present Vavuniya town called Villangkulam earlier. The villages were reputed for their cooperative activities and absence of much caste or class distinctions or conflict. The settlements were mainly Tamil except in the north east and south eastern parts of Vavuniya there were a mixture of Sinhala and Tamil families while on the western side there were Muslim and Tamils, all of whom lived peacefully together. Vavuniya town developed with the opening of road and railway connection by the British between Jaffna in the North and Kandy and Colombo in the South. Those who came on official duties or traders settled in the town. The town grew to its present size after it became a border town with the LTTE controlled areas to the north, a centre of trade and goods moving north and later haven for refugees from other areas.

Killinochchi and Mullaithivu districts were sparsely populated, jungle areas with agricultural settlements around tanks like Irainumadu and some permanent but largely migrant4 fishing villages on the Eastern coast. During the 1970’s there were concerted efforts to settle unemployed, educated youth in the Vanni and involve them in agriculture and animal husbandry. Following the state acquisition of British owned estates in 1974 resulting in starvation on the estates (UTHR-J, 1993) and the 1977, 1983 anti-Tamil pogroms, Tamils from the south and hill country settled in increasing numbers in the Vanni. With the Lankan operation Riviresa to retake the Jaffna peninsula, the LTTE engineered the 1995 exodus from Jaffna which saw around 200,000 people with the LTTE moving to the Vanni (UTHR-J, 1995). If the people had been cornered with the LTTE in Jaffna there may have been a high number of civilian casualties ( Somasundaram , 1997). With the 2002-6 peace accord, some of these people moved back to their original homes.

4 Coming from the western coast during their southwest monsoon.

The LTTE leadership and cadres faced annihilation when they took on the Indian army in the form of Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) in 1987 in Jaffna (Hoole, Somasundaram , Thiranagama , & Sritharan, 1990). Eventually they had to withdraw into the Vanni and into the Mullaithivu jungles. Several efforts by the IPKF to round up the LTTE leadership culminating in an operation called ‘Chess mate’ using the famed Gurkha regiment to go into the Mullaithivu jungles where they cornered the LTTE, but were not permitted to proceed by the higher 8 9

clean water difficult to find, medical help and supplies became non-existent as people fled from one place to another seeking some respite from the continuous shelling and firing. People lay dead on the streets and in their hastily dug bunkers. Some 20,000 to 40,000 are estimated to have died in the apocalyptic carnage (Philp, 2009; Stein, 2010; UTHR-J, 2009; Wax, 2009). The injured cried for help, while bleeding to death where no one stopped to give a lending hand in their own desperation to escape. The elderly and disabled were left behind. Orphaned and children were wandering aimlessly amidst the chaos of blocked roads and desperate humanity. It appeared that the LTTE strategy and hope was that there would be some kind of international or Indian intervention to avert a humanitarian tragedy. Those who managed to escape this unfolding human tragedy were fired upon by both sides, were injured or killed, had to wade through deep waters, becoming separated and losing all their belongings. Once on the army side, they were checked, some separated and never seen again. They were then herded into buses and taken to temporary shelters and finally interned for months in barbed wire camps for months without access to the outside world (Special Correspondent, 2009). The total thus interned in various Internally Displaced Camps (IDP) camps in Vavuniya, Mannar and Jaffna was just under 300,000 (OCHA, 2009). The narratives and drawings presented here are from those interned in these camps and those outside in hospitals and living with friends and relations. 10

Figure 2 Caught in between- Drawing by Vanni IDP school student showing herself (in yellow) escaping from Piddikarar (LTTE recruiters in black) amidst shelling from the Sri Lanka army through huts towards Mathalan

Methodology

This paper is mainly a qualitative inquiry (Creswell, 2007; Denzin & Lincoln, 2000, 2005; Liamputtong, 2009; Liamputtong & Ezzy, 2005) into the psychosocial situation of the Vanni IDP’s and their ethnography using narratives and observations obtained through participant observation; in depth interviews; key informant, family and extended family interviews; and focus groups using a prescribed, semi structured open ended questionnaire. Ethical clearance for the study was obtained from the Ethical review committee of the University of Jaffna . Informed consent was obtained before administration of the questionnaire. Interviews were carried out by the author and by trained psychosocial workers who are involved in assisting the Vanni IDP’s under my supervision. The sampling frame were all those who had lived in the Vanni of northern Sri Lanka and been affected by the outbreak of the war between the state forces and LTTE in the period 2008-9 and eventually displaced as so called IDP’s to Vavuniya, Mannar and Jaffna. Generally the sampling has been purposive and convenient such as clinic, hospital patients; displaced and refugee populations; and those accessible living with friends or relations. The transcripts and translations were verified with those involved wherever possible. The author did the translations from Tamil into English for this paper. There were severe limitations to access to IDP camps and to obtaining ‘information’. Politically it was a sensitive issue not permitted under the martial law conditions prevailing in the north in the post-conflict context, although the situation is evolving and opening up slowly. Thus all those involved are reported anonymously for the time being. Though there are risks involved, it was thought that bringing out this sensitive material at this time would be in larger interests of the Vanni IDP’s in particular, the Tamil community and the nation as a whole. The resettlement of the Vanni IDP’s is being planned and implemented. The paper pleads for their trauma and psychosocial needs be taken into consideration for their necessary healing and success of rehabilitation and development process. The Tamil community needs these narratives to come out to show the extent of their suffering, for their own review of what has happened and where they are going and for the outside world to understand. For the nation, the eventual process of reconciliation needed for her survival and future progress, the stories of ordinary people has to be told. Social justice, at least steps towards acknowledgement of what has happened would help towards long term psychosocial well being.

The psychosocial phenomena of collective trauma is explored and interventions suggested. the term collective trauma is being introduced to represent the negative impact at the collective level, that is on the social processes, networks, relationships, institutions, functions, dynamics, practices, capital and resources; to the wounding and injury to the social fabric. The long lasting impact at the collective level or some have called it tearing in the social fabric (Milroy, 2005) would then result in social transformation (Bloom, 1998), of a sociopathic nature that can be called collective trauma. Collective events and consequences may have more significance in 11

collectivistic communities than in individualistic societies (Hofstede, 2005). The individual becomes embedded within the family and community so much so that traumatic events are experienced through the larger unit and the impact will also manifest at that level.

Narratives

Many ended up in the Vanni after many previous displacements to escape the chronic terror of continuing warfare. The following youthful narrative starts when the person was a young child but is quite typical and shows the complexities:

“There is no history that the fearful have ever attained freedom. Cowards have never created a free country. The brave have gallows courage. Many countries have achieved freedom by daring” was a slogan I have heard from childhood till the final battle (15/5/2009) - not just for two years but for more than the last 26 years. The Jaffna town where we lived was just 4 Km from the Dutch Fort. It was common for shells to be fired by the army inside that Fort. When the need arises we will finish our cooking and seek shelter in the nearby Don Bosco School . In the faith that shells of that time will not penetrate the school’s concrete, we spend the night there and return home in the morning. If there is exceptionally heavy shelling or airplane bombardment, we would run to the ICRC but they would close their doors. We would stand by their outer walls and return when everything is over. The general advice we had received from our elders was to count to 32 on hearing the characteristic loading click of the mortar shell from the Fort and then fall on the ground in kupura (full prone) position (that being the time for the shell to be fired and reach us). The period was before 1988-1990. It was all a game to us. During this time we faced the atrocities of the Indian army uncles. There would be corpses lying at our junction. We will stealthily go to look at them and get back home unknown to our parents. One night my brother developed stomach ache. There was no medicine. The kitchen was outside by our home. Our hurricane lamp had no oil. I lit the kuthuvillaku (traditional oil lamp) and went towards the kitchen with my mother. The reason was to cook some ulli (white onion that is believed to relieve stomach ailments).We had just stepped outside when the Indian army who were hiding behind our fence jumped into our home. I dropped the lamp in terror. They barked in broken Tamil, “why did you bring light? Didn’t you know that you aren’t allowed to show light at night”? Only after I grew up did I wonder that we had no right to even use light in our own home. Out of fear, for a long time afterwards we would not come out at night and spent it in complete darkness.

Our first major blow in life happened in the 10th month of 1995 with the announcement to leave Valikammam. I was playing killithaddu at that time. My friends said that we would be just going today and returning tomorrow. With the clothes I was wearing and two old hand baggage (on foot) we reached the Navatkulli bridge which was rumoured to be broken by nightfall. In our haste, we crossed through mud that reached my neck, lost one of my bags and somehow made it to Chavakachcheri in two days. Here there was the appeal that “Vanni soil will make you live” and some compulsion (by the LTTE, though not named) that made us join thousands of people to journey by sea to the Vanni. We experienced two strong emotions during this journey, one was the terror for the navy- when they would cut us up (people crossing the Killali lagoon were set upon by navy patrols) and other was the longing when we would return to Jaffna. The nostalgia for Jaffna lasted for days turning into a day dream that continued for years. After this we were displaced again from Killinochchi in 1996. I lost both my parents in 1998. Then my brother was 12

killed in a bomb blast. I came down with malaria several times. I lost my sleep and had to take piriton. In the Jaffna school where I had studied I was appointed the student head. In Killinochchi I sat for the GCE ‘O’ Level exam (year 10 national exam) without attending school. It took an year for the results to come. After attending classes for three months, I had given up my studies due to my family situation. But due to the encouragement of a teacher, I prepared at home and succeeded in the ‘A’ level exam (High school or year 12 national exam). After that the Killinochchi resettlement process. We gradually became part of the Vanni soil (Vanni man vasihal). The thoughts of Jaffna faded slowly from our minds. Our longing was for freedom. Not necessarily by arms but that we should govern in our land. We wanted rule by the people because our past ethnic leaders had made many historical blunders (varallattu thavaruhal). Whether we liked it or not, we were forced to accept the struggle (porrattam). Although many of our expectations may not come to pass, at least one day, freedom and after that dawn (vidivu). This was the longing of many. Many lost much for this goal. But now we regret that the last 30 years have all been in vain. This anguish is greater than all the suffering we have been through.

The 4th phase of the Eelam war resulted in enormous suffering for the people that cannot be described. In 2006 August, the pathway to Jaffna and prize of the peace process, the A-9 highway was closed (puddu villa). Then began the forced conscription with the call, “one person for each house to guard the nation, come forward swiftly (virainthu vareer)”. Days passed. We’ll hear loud wailing for the dead (marana olam). When we went to inquire, we would be informed that it was due to forced conscription. It was the oppari (wailing) by the conscripts and their relations. I learnt the reason for the wailing later. Many who were taken never returned. This was without willingness. Some parents willingly joint their children. Willing or unwilling, some joined because of others. They hoped that somehow a change will come. Subsequently the displacements took hold like a cancer. A common saying became, “we gave our child and eventually we have to leave our home”.

Our displacement from Killinochchi started in October, 2008.The reason was that shells from Mallavi and aerial attacks. The planes would drop their bombs somewhere but the pieces would spread to cause damage elsewhere. Among the planes the MIG 29 was a demon. Its sound still rings in my ears. First displacement was to Visvamadu. Everything except the walls of the house were removed. Some even took the bricks that were not cemented. This was due to the bad experiences from the last displacement (on returning they found everything possible to remove had been looted). Our household loaded two ‘kandar’ (heavy vehicle). Everything from a broomstick were carefully loaded and secured before moving. “chundankai (a vegetable) quarter cost labor threequarter cost” was our story. Somehow we will take everything possible. Then we will return with everything safely was the misplaced belief. Some even uprooted their croton plants to take with them. There was relief, a pleasure in the feeling that we had loaded all our belongings in a heavy vehicle. What happened was different. We were displaced 8 times. For folks from Mannar district it was 16 times. The heavy vehicle finally became by foot (changing from tractor, land master, motor cycle, to bicycle).The items taken became finally one or two handbags, in this the story of those who crossed a waterway to reach (army) control is distressing: some finally even lost their identity card. The first displacement did not appear that major to us. In the belief that they would soon return people said, “the army will come up to Killinochchi Paranthan, after they have all come, they will be chased back by those responsible (the word LTTE was not used). After that we can return, no.” Even after our 8th displacement, these were the words of faith used by people. After that they added safe to Visvamadu and 13 14 15

made their own laws and were the cause of the split from the people. The selfishness of some, those who put their families and their own selves above others became the cause of problem. They stopped us saying the devil (army) was out there, but then sent on their own families. People finally asked, “To whom are you showing the devil?”

Mullivaikal became very scary. Our environs were hit by multibarrel (40) shells. We did not know what was happening. The surrounding palmyrah were burning. I fell without realization. After a few moments, I look around. Everywhere there was oppari (wailing). The elder in the next shack was killed while eating. I had just talked to him. He had said that he had not eaten in the morning (due to shortage of food), only at midday. I had seen the 14 year old female child next door cooking a rotti. It was around 12 noon. The shells hit at around 1 PM. The white rice the elder was eating had turned red. One of the rotti’s that the child had been cooking was thrown on top of our torn tharappan roof. The child’s abdomen had been torn asunder and was eventually sent by ship to Pulmoddai. Deaths became common. Some died inside the bunkers. They would then all be simply buried therein.

The World Food Programme (WFP) would distribute relief items. We had to stand in queues for it. It would start shelling and we would have to run. Even when dry rations were obtained amidst all these difficulties, there was always shortage. There was floor, sugar, dhal and oil. We became habituated to just Rice and dhal. There was not even an ulli to add. We developed diarrhea and had to go to the toilet often. Shells would come at any time. The price of food items skyrocketed. One coconut was Rs. 1000. Spinach Rs. 150. Once some spoilt carrot and pumpkin came by boat. Unripe mango was Rs. 100 to 150. Some mothers cried for rice…

Gunshots also started to target people in Mullivakal. When we looked outside from the bunkers we would see the trees riddled with bullets. Some described as ‘dumdum’ a type of bullet. An achchi (elderly lady) was sitting by our side when a ‘dum’ sound was heard. Later she realized her leg was broken. We later realized that a channam (round or bullet) had struck her leg and then exploded again within. Another type of missile was called ‘cannon’. These were later fired continuous and many died as a result. One does not hear the ‘canon’ being fired or know it is coming, only after it has exploded. After this even the thorn bush at Mullivaikal couldn’t stand up. Continuous missiles, rockets, gunfire, and with that bombardment from the sea. The bunkers were built facing the sea, to avoid the multipronged attacks from the land. But now shells started coming from the seaside also. For comfort we ran towards Vellammullivaikal. This was only 500 m away. In the middle the night, a hidden arms dump has exploded with burning flames. We are afraid to come out (of bunkers) in the fire light. Vandu (unmanned aircraft) are taking pictures from the sky. If people leave the bunkers to come out, at least five shells will come there. Somehow we manage to run towards Vellamullivaikal. On the way we duck for cover, but that turns out to be more frightening than where we had been. There was a school in Vellammullivaikal where the injured were being brought. This was the Vanni hospital. If I am to describe all this it would take a book. However, in short: in the front yard there were many injured. Some were corpses, by the side were the badly injured without anyone to care for them. If it was head injury nobody would even turn to look. There were two or three government doctors. However, trained local doctors (TEHS8 ) saved many people. This hospital also

8 Thamil Eelam Health Service was part of the elaborate de facto state infrastructures and institutions evolved by the LTTE. The parallel ( Somasundaram , 2010b) health service consisted of medical services to the militant cadres that included doctors trained in their medical school, nurses and other medics running frontline first aid centres, field 16

hospitals and base hospitals that carried out complicated surgeries, blood transfusions and rehabilitation (Thuyavan & Whitehall, 2008). Theelapan Memorial Health Services provided primary health care to civilians throughout areas under their control. Other institutional structures included White Pigeon Artificial limb organization, Centre For Health Care(CHC), Ponnambalam Memorial Hospitals and expatriate visiting specialists.

sustained attacks. The sad part was that the place where people came searching for medicine became their grave. Shells fell on those who were already dead. There was saying that even after death devastation continues became a reality here. Before coming to Vellamullivaikal we celebrated our last mass in the Vanni. Under a tharrapan, the priest and people had done the pusai (mass) sitting on the floor (this was my first experience) as there was no space and gunshots were crossing overhead. The day and time when ICRC ships used to come gave people some respite as shells became less. Yet, some who trusted this and got out died.

13/5/2009. World War I remembrance day. I am reading the bible in my bunker while heavy attacks are going on around. I feel my face being covered by mud. Immediately I come out of the bunker and start running. An artillery shells falls nearby covering a bunker with mud. Five children are in the bunker. Thank god they are alive. We dig them out. I turn to look, a woman is squatting on the ground with her head bent. “Iyoo, it’s a known girl”. I turn her head. She is still alive but there is blood pouring from her nose and ear. Immediately we run from there. 100 m from there we get into another bunker with other known people. A girl who had been talking to us leaves the bunker to come back bent over, holding her abdomen with tears rolling down her eyes. She is immediately taken to the same hospital. There were no vehicles. So two sticks are put through a sarong that functions as the stretcher. She is soon operated on and sent back. She lives with us for three days in the crowded bunker. She would cry for water but we could not give even water because of the abdominal injury. On the third night, while looking at her two children she passed away. The funeral was held inside the bunker. Within three hours we buried her in our hut by the bunker. We also cooked and were eating when a arms dump (store) nearby starts burning. This happens in many places. People grab what they can carry by hand and run where they can. Everywhere it was the same situation. This was the last stage for the Vanni. Those who believed in something became disoriented. Many of these were highly vulnerable innocents. Oue faith till the last had been with god. We were very keen to listen to news till the end. Every expected the UN to intervene. NATO will send in troops. Many believed the US statement to the last. Those concerned (LTTE) would surrender their arms to a third party. Civilians will be rescued from the government announced safety zone (up to Vadduvahal) by the intervention of outsiders and taken to a safe place. But the truth was that instead of saving the people the world nations and UN committees respected the sovereignty of a weaker developing country more. But will they avoid intervening needlessly in a sovereign country when their interest is at stake? Laws are for man, man is not restrained by laws. Laws are important but we who were facing death did not have anybody to comfort us at the end. Those who believed till the end kept looking towards the sea for a saviour. The last hope dissolved with the Indian election results . Many did not know what was happening to the end. They just stayed in the bunkers. What has happened to them?

On the last day we cross the Vaddukaval bridge. Even at the end they (LTTE) block us. But the flood of people had to cross the final blockade. After 30 years of war, more than the changes in the map or the changes in the economics and structure of Illangai ( Sri Lanka ), who will fill the wounds and trauma in the minds of the people who have suffered these horrors? We, who have learnt to be patient, will wait for peaceful coexistence. 17

In this case the displacements had started in 1977:

Despair

We were originally from Alaveddy in Jaffna . My father was the post master at Chunnkam. He was transferred to Anuradhapura in 1948. We settled in at the post office quarters in new town Anuradhapura . My four younger sisters, one younger brother and myself were born in Anuradhpura. My mother was a good entrepreneur. Through her efforts we saved on our expenses, invested in land, cattle and paddy fields. At one point we owned 20 acres land, 200 cattle, chickens, 100 coconut trees and about 130 Sinhalese worked for us. 10 Sinhala families lived on our land. As our land was by the side of the Thisava tank we had no shortage for water and were able to have 3 harvests per year. We built a big house behind St. Joseph ’s Church and I studied at the Convent in Sinhalese. Talking and talking Sinhala we forgot our Tamil. Our neighbours were Sinhalese, Muslims and Burghers. They were good people. We had no problems. We shared our good and bad times. They helped us a lot. As my mother had many cows and sold milk she was fondly called ‘kiriamma’ (milk lady) by the Sinhala folks.

The 56 disturbances did not affect us much. The 77 disturbance cannot be forgotten. People who had eaten and drunk from us came with knives, poles and axes to cut us. A few who were grateful to us saved us. We hid for 2 days in the Thisava irrigation canals and jungles without thanni venni (anything). We were sent to Jaffna with police security. With just the clothes we were we landed at Duraippah stadium in a lorry. Like us there were many others. We stayed at the mission house of the catholic Fathers at Parathithurai. My mother did not like Jaffna . We bought land in Killinochchi and moved there in ‘77 itself. The refuge life that started in ’77 has not ended yet. Unable to live with the Sinhalese we came to Tamil land, but here also it is so. All our property, goats, cattle, chickens, household goods, everything was taken by those around us. My mother will become upset if Sinhalese is spoken, “They have betrayed (irandaham) the house where they ate”. She stubbornly refused to go there again, staying on in Killinochchi. “A person who tied a thali (wedding necklace ) to a manchal (yellow) clothe. Rather than believe in them, we can live in our land, it will be only for a short time…” the lady repeated and passed away crying.

“If we could not live there in peace, we came to Tamil land but after ’85 this has become hell” she said with perumuchu (deep, sighing breathing)9…. “When are we going to be able to live in peace?”…..

9 A common Tamil cultural idiom of distress ( Somasundaram , 2002; Somasundaram & Siva yokan, 2001)

My sister returned to Anuradhapura but I stayed on in Killinochchi with my children. The children would go to my sisters’ at Anuradhapura during school holidays. My second daughter was 8 years old. She had gone to my sisters’ for the March holidays in ’85. The palapona (decadent) iyyakam movement (LTTE) one day shot many Sinhala folks. If they are shot would they just wait? They hunted down Tamils. Ours somehow reached the army camp and sought refuge there. A soldier who went berserk (irathaveri) started shooting killing and injuring many Tamils. In that my innocent daughter was also killed. I did not even get to see her body. She was buried there. From that day I have not stopped crying thinking of her. 18

In ’90 my 3rd son joined the movement. From that day my nimmathi (contentment) also went. Day and night, I begged God that nothing would happen to him. Palapona God also had no compassion, he took him in 2000. In 2001 my brothers son had gone to Vavuniya. He died in a claymore that had been set for someone else. We were displaced repeatedly living in sheds. When peace comes we would come back to our own place. Like this we have experienced untold difficulties and tortures to live with the land. In 2002 with the peace agreement , we repaired our home, hoping to life with contentment when the palapona war started again in 2008. Artillery did not let us live in peace. The beatings of the heart from the sound of Kifir drives us into bunkers, then we come out, so our life was progressing when the army had come out of Mannar to reach Akarayan. We were not able to stand the shelling and Kifir attacks, the children removed our roof, doors, windows and everything and moved to Visuvamadu. We did not live there with contentment for even 2 months. Leaving most of our goods, we moved to Vallipunam but the Sinhalese did not let us be there for even 2 weeks. With whatever they could get, the children made shelters. They took us to Iranaipallai. Like that we changed places again and again to finally reach Mullivaikal. It was there that I was injured in my arm by a multibarrel shell. My children sent me by ICRC ship (to Trincomalee). My children experienced all types of difficulties to walk from Mullivaikal to Vadduvan to reach the army. They were in Menik farm for 4 months and underwent all the difficulties there. Now we are all in Mannar. God has spared our lives. But so many people have died. All the hard earned assets have gone with the wind.

Last month we went to Killinochchi. Everything was flattened. There was nothing to identify our place. Everything was overgrown like a jungle and paladainthu (in ruins). It would be verrupu (despair) to stay there. Everywhere there is only the army. They have razed the Maveerar maythanam ( Heroes (LTTE) cemetery) to the ground and ploughed it. The place of my son’s tombstone cannot be recognized. Before one day of each month I would go and cry at his tombstone. This time we were not even aware that Maveerar day had come and gone. When we lived at Killinochchi, the boys with my son would come often addressing me as ammah (mother). Now who is there for me?

We went to over 15 places (for assistance) to repair our houses. To whom shall we ask? When looking at what has happened to the Tamils from ’77, it creates a great despair. Like the story of a illavu patha killi ( parrot that waited for its portion) our story has ended… (with a perumuchchu). How many people were sacrificed; hands and feet lost; houses and property destroyed; ran around as people without a country; bearing so many hardships for liberty to come again to a life of subjugation. God has also become blind. Like before I do not repeat the rosaries, do not have the heart to go to church. Only anger and sorrow comes. Before we would celebrate Christmas and New year in a big way. This time they just came and went. Cake was not made, nor palaharam (sweet eats). To who to give? In Killinochchi all our neighbours and community would come. I only go to church on Sundays because my children insist.

What have we done to anybody? We have sacrificed so many people asking for freedom but only ended up without even a kachai thundu ( loin cloth, fig leaf, suspenders). We could have gone in contentment to have been killed by a shell rather than see this end. Prabhakaran has gone creating the situation where to see our house we have to get permission from the army. When thinking of everything anger wells up. I feel like burning up. There is no sleep. All the difficulties we faced keep running like a movie. Tossing and turning, there is no sleep. 19

There were many stories of multiple displacements. Eventually everyone was displaced several times with decreasing periods in one place and increasing pressures from all sides, devastation and hardships. The following account by a teacher from the Mannar district maps the long convoluted journey, keeping just ahead of the direct fighting (Jeyaraj, 2008) up to Feb., 2009:

2.3.08- We were displaced from our village to Maddu. During this period the LTTE started to forcefully conscript our youth. Many parents, male and female youth were affected psychologically by this. Some attempted suicide by taking poison. All male and female youth were cosseted in the Madhu church while parents guarded them. Finally people were forcefully sent to other places.

3.4.08- From Madhu we were displaced to Thachinamaruthamadu. People suffered without basic facilities. Here also forced conscription continued. Some hid their children. They moved them between bunkers and jungles. Many were affected psychologically. There were many civilian casualties due to heavy shelling and aerial bombardment. Some were killed by the army’s deep penetration unit claymore mines. The bus taking school children from Thachinamaruthamadu to Madhu was hit by claymore mines. Many died or were injured by this attack. Due to these attacks the free movement of people became restricted.

15.5.08 We were displaced to Periamadhu. Here some basic facilities were arranged for the people. Even here, people were subject to problems like claymore attacks, shelling and forced conscription. Many students became mentally deranged, dropping out of school and staying at home.

18.6.08 People were displaced to Ganeshapuram. NGO’s and service organizations helped the people. Here also people faced continuous problems. Continuing deaths affected many mentally. There was severe shortage of water. Shelling and aerial bombardment took place.

23.7.08 We reached Anaivilunthan. As people had to leave many of their belongings on the way, they were affected psychologically. Shelling caused injuries and deaths. The successive displacements disturbed people. The education of students suffered.

11.8.08 We were displaced to a place called Puthu murripu. Here also the same problems were encountered. People were pushed to grave difficulties. Some ran out of money. Deaths increased house to house there were funerals.

25.8.08 Displacment to Vaddakachchi. Here also all the same problems. People endured severe hardships. Specially forced conscription was done by beating the people and taking male and female youths. Conscripts escaped from the LTTE and returned home to be hidden there.

7.10.08 We moved towards Tharmapuram. People had to struggle through heavy rains and flooding. Shacks went underwater. Other problems cropped up. People betrayed each other to the authorities (LTTE). Youngsters were caught and taken away at night, at midnight. In the name of conscription, some were beaten up, some were taken away tied to poles. Male and female youth were kept in hiding. Some became frustrated and joined. There was no one to give comfort to the people, they became desolate. They were broken by shelling and gunshots. Some were taken away for border duty and other work. Some dead youth were returned to the families in coffins with their faces concealed. Everywhere there were funerals. Everyone talked about death. Youth spent their time in hiding away from their studies. 20

13.1.09 People moved to Visavamadu area. Streets were crowded with moving people. Funerals were ubiquitous with smell of corpses. Bodies were buried day and night. Witnessing all this, many decompensated mentally. People were stricken by the loss of their belongings. Struggled without basic facilities. Grieved for the deaths of kith and kin. Many died unnecessarily by the shelling. Dead children to elders, lay around orphaned. Air bombings increased. Some succumbed to army firing.

30.1.09 Many people moving to Irudumadu were killed by shelling. Some left everything in a bid to survive. People were psychologically affected.

3.2.09 People moved towards Suthanthipuram. There was no drinking water, people dug holes and drank the water there. Shelling was particularly heavy. People were bewildered. On one side there was forced conscription, on the other there was continuous shelling. People lost everything, did not know where to go, what to take, what to do. Shelling was heavy even in what had been declared as the Safety Zone. Children who had lost their parents, parents who had lost their children. It was a scene that one could not look at. Bodies were buried in bunkers as it was not possible to bury them properly. Some bodies were wrapped with clothes and buried two to three feet deep. Some could not bury the dead, they simply left them and ran. Some had lost their hands, other bodies were shattered, people suffered greatly. In the hospital, there was a shortage of medicines and medical workers. People starved without adequate food. Rice and Dhal were the only food. Some broke into the stores of cooperative societies, service organizations and shops to meet their needs. There was no clean drinking water. At the same time, the LTTE shot those trying to escape into army controlled areas. Hospitals were crowded. They suffered without medical facilities. Some days were spent only in bunkers. Only for short intervals was it possible to come out. It was in this place that they faced many difficulties. Both sides caused damage.

People gave up leaving it to God’s will. Nobody knew who will look after whom, who will provide comfort. We experienced suffering here that cannot be described. Many were widowed. Most people, beyond age differences, were physically and mentally affected.

The following account describes the final days at Mullivaikal in apocalyptic terms. There is deep emotion and resentment mixed with an earnestness to give voice to those who died there:

Mullivaikal was where the Vanni Thamilan (Tamil persons) had their hair shorn and mouth gagged while nails were driven through their hands and legs like the scene at Calvary while 80 million (world) Tamils looked on. Out of their national interest, the ruling regime washed their hands off Tamils to kill and destroy under attractive terms such as’ war for peace’ and ‘humanitarian action’. 300,000 Tamils were rained with shells causing rivers of blood to soak that land. Daily, I want to forget those days but the memory of the thousands who died makes me want to show the outside world happened there. That would be giving the dead souls athma shanthi (paying respect, letting them rest in peace).

Everyone ask us who survived that death land why we went behind them (LTTE)? Aren’t you just ordinary civilians? From Killinochchi we were displaced to Vallipunam (Puthukudirrupu). We made a house there and stayed for a month. Shells that were falling kilometers away started falling in our yard. Seeing the dead and injured in neighboring houses our minds became disturbed and we joined those running to go where our legs took us. We changed places four tofive times within a village. Wherever we went we dug bunkers like soldiers and brought together our kith and ken. We struggled to obtain food and water. It became quite clear that this war was against everything living in the Vanni. According to my reckoning there was one death for every 10 persons. Ordinary people were asked to go to Suthanthirapuram as it was made the safety zone. We found out what hell would be like there. When we saw people die in hoards with their bodies strewn, we decided to move to Iranapalai. Iranapalai was also declared a safety zone. We thought this was also a killing field. Tank shells, Kifir (aircraft) bombs, multi barrel missiles, kothu (cluster) bombs and 50 caliber gunshots targeted the people. My mind became benumbed seeing young infants to the elderly being injured and dying. Tears did not come when relations were killed. The current corpses were surrounded by future corpses cowering in bunkers. We kept hearing that people were surrendering to the army. Death was certain if we stayed. We were driven to chose. There was no food, no medicine but my family and relations were like cats that had seen fire. Because on an earlier occasion, when we had sought refuge in an army camp in Anuradhapura (birthplace of many of my relations), they had opened fire killing and injuring many. We had escaped to Killinochchi and then Jaffna where we were bombed with explosives and faeces (barrels filled with faeces) that smeared out bodies. From that time we had lost hope that as civilians we would be spared. It was imprinted in our minds that if we run in the opposite direction to the army we may somehow survive. That belief was confirmed on many occasions. But at Mullivaikal the opposite direction was the sea! When we were at Vellaimullivakal, the Tamil Nadu (in India ) Chief Minister’s fasting drama created some hope of a ceasefire, a restriction on the use of heavy weaponry. There was brightening in the faces of people. There was no food to eat, no water to drink, no medicine for wounds but we believed the person who represented 60 million Tamils.

Only that night the peak of heavy weaponry power was displayed. Artillery shells with Phosphorus fell near our bunker and caught fire. Everywhere there was marana olam (death wailing). Even at night with the fond hope of saving the lives of our children we ran where our legs took us. We rested on the sea shore sands. We did not believe we would be alive the next day. My aunt had been burning after being struck by a shell when we ran. When we came the next day, only her head and chest remained for us to bury in the nearby bunker. In every bunker two to three people had died. We joined those camped on the seashore. Fear of death had created a sense of compassion for others. We were ready to share anything we had.

Deaths were ubiquitous. People who come out of the bunker to have a tea, fell back dead. Shells did not spare those in bunkers. My elder sister in law was injured in her head by a ‘canon’ attack and died due to lack of medical attention. Elders and children standing in queues for bread were slaughtered. Those who stood for gruel, to buy milk powder all went it the carnage.

While running to Vadvahal we had to duck for cover in a palmyrah cluster in an open bunker. There were altogether ten children from my family and relations when a shell fell by the side killing our neighbor. The children were covered by sand. I was dazed thinking they had all died when on pulling out one child, it was unharmed. When the other children were also unharmed, a belief that there was a God became strong. Finally we reached Vaddivahal. My brother was injured on the way while another was missing. The injured brother was taken away by the army and lost all his money but he survived. When we approached Vaddivahal a soldier called us females and showed it by signs. Why were men called this way? Later, why were we locked up like prisoners? There were many questions but no one to answer us. 22

Many of the militants (LTTE cadres) who surrendered in front of our eyes were not in the ICRC register. Many said they had been shot. When will we be allowed to resettle in our own places? With the armed groups destroyed, will ordinary civilians like us be given freedom of opinion, freedom to protect our lives? Only the world can give an answer.

This is a much more individualistic presentation elicited by a doctor from a medico-psychiatric perspective that would be diagnosed as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD):

Horrendous memories

Eighteen year old Thevan was a student. His native land is Paranthan. His childhood had been happy. He had aadipaadi (played, literally sing and dance) joyfully with his companions. He was studying at high school with a goal of becoming an engineer. All his dreams were shattered by the war. Horrible shelling, artillery fire and bombings had thihil adaya (create turmoil) among appavi (innocent) folks. Thevan sought safety in many places carrying only a few belongings. Everywhere there were bunkers. On one side there was channa nerikaddi (pressure from crowds of people) while on the other side were marana olangal (wailings from death), and paddiniyal vaduhintra (starving) people. Because of the terrible war, Thevan’s family entered the army controlled area on 20.4.09. They were enjoying the relief of having escaped with their lives when on the irregular, rough pathway, they were unexpectedly caught up in a land mine explosion. His mother (41 years) and brother (21 years) lost their legs right there. That horrible scene happened right in front of his eyes. Thevan was also injured badly. While coming on the way, there were many dead bodies lying around. On one side there were other injured, bleeding people while on the other side there were those crying loudly for the relations who had died or been separated. Dead children’s bodies were floating in the lagoon10. Thevan was terrified by these scenes. After great difficulty he was admitted to Vavuniya Hospital . His mental state was disturbed by memories and images of dead bodies lying around, skeletons without flesh, the scene of his mother’s shattered leg due to the landmine, smell of explosives when he breathes, running blood and smell of blood appeared to happen repeatedly. In his sleep he hears voices, “ why have you not gone to the movement? Don’t you know how to fight?. He is now separated from his family. He has foreboding about his future.

10 Fleeing people had to cross a deep lagoon (Nandikadal) to reach the army controlled area. Many, particularly children and elderly drowned in the crossing.

11 Medicine Sans Frontiers

The following case histories were taken from civilians recovering from serious war injuries who had been transported out with one bystander (a carer relation) to various hospitals, mainly Vavuniya. An MSF11 Nurse Karen Stewart (2009) described them: “Wounded, shocked and distressed. After fleeing heavy fighting in the Vanni, people arriving in Vavuniya hospital need both medical care and counselling. People arrive here in a state of extreme anxiety and fear. They have been separated from their families and often have no news about their fate. Young children and elderly travelling with their caretakers claim they were separated at a checkpoint. The caretakers or family members who were healthy were forced to go to camps, whilst those wounded and sick had to go to the hospital. Children at the hospital are unaccompanied. They scream and call out for their mothers. Elderly people are on their own. Some people have bad wounds, some have been amputated or badly hurt by shrapnel.” 23

Look at the state I am in

“I am 54 years old. I lived happily and comfortably with my wife and 8 children. I am very well educated, I know all three languages. We worshipped our farm work. We owned many properties and land. My children studied well, two of them even received university admissions but they (LTTE)12didn’t allow it. Why do you think I sent two of my daughters overseas to be married? Not only that, I have 11 siblings. Because of the current war situation we had been displaced 8 times, living in bunkers. One day a shell fell close by injuring my hand and leg. I was taken to a hospital and then to Trincomalee. Despite having so many relations I am now all alone. My family, estate, health and relatives – I have lost them all, if only the shell that fell had hit me, we could have died together”, he said with agony.

12 LTTE had a strict pass system, particularly for those in the recruitable age group. Some were allowed out of their area of control if someone else stood surety for them.

Suffering from separation

I was 44 years old living with my husband and 4 children happily in our village. Our 4 children used to attend school while we were farmers. Due to the war situation we were displaced 11 times. To save our lives we dug bunkers wherever we went. On 8.4.09 a shell fell on top of the bunker and my daughter, son and husband were injured. While being taken to Mathalan hospital, they (LTTE) caught my 17 year old daughter and 15 year old son. I am here with my injured daughter. We had protected them all the way but on the way this has happened. We could have all died there. I have lost everything to become alone. “What would be the state of my husband and children?” she asked with grief.

Anguish of a 10 year old

I had a father, mother and two siblings. My native place is Killinochchi. I am a fifth year student. Due to the current war, we were continuously displaced from 7 to 8 places. When my father and I went to the shop to buy food, a Kifir rained bombs. My father died immediately. I was lying on the street with injuries in my stomach and leg, bleeding profusely. I cried to be taken to hospital. People going on the street just looked at me. No one picked me up. Afterwards someone took me to hospital by bicycle. I came by (ICRC) ship to Padaviya and then to Vavuniya hospital with my mother. What happened comes continuously as a nightmare. I am scared. I am sad when I think of my father.

What a life

I am a 47 year old male from Killinochchi. I was married with two female and one male child. A beautiful family. We were living with good facilities. Started the war. Continuous displacements. We had to live in Tharappan shacks and bunkers. Life became terrible. We had just reached Suthanthipuram, it was not even an hour had gone by when continuous shelling… , one fell on our shack. In that place two of my daughters died. Son lost both his hands and a leg. I could not even properly bury my daughters. I have brought my son here. They did not allow my wife. No news. I have searched in all the camps. Is this a life? Life has deteriorated, children are also gone, wife is also not to be found, what is the purpose of living?

I was not able…

I am a 47 year old married woman with two female children. Native place is Mannar District. We were doing well. Stared the war. 13 times displaced. We were four siblings. I was the last. My mother was 87 years old. She was living with me. Because of this cursed war I left her with my brother. We all left together. My brother had come before. We had to cross a river on the way. My mother had left early. There were many people. I left my mother in my brother’s care. My brother left my mother on the other side of the river. How much my mother would have suffered? I was not able to bring her to this side. I left her with my brother’s family. I wanted to save my children and came across. I could not save her. She 24

must have suffered so. Nobody is there to help her. Didn’t she also leave because she wanted to survive? I do not know what to do….

Trembling

I was a 48 year old male living happily with my wife and four male children. I was a fisherman. We had no shortcomings. I educated my four lions (sons). At this time the war started. I lost my occupation, I lost my beautiful house and property. We were displaced to three places. As we were going with what was left, there was heavy shelling. People scattered. We became separated from my four children. Suddenly to see, I was in a vehicle with my wife, one leg and hand was not there. I suffered in that state. On the way in a bus, they separated my wife and sent me alone to the Vavuniya hospital. There is no news of my children. Are they alive or not? Where is my wife? I am trembling all alone.

How to live?

Although I was 27 year old woman, I looked after my disabled brother, another school going brother and elderly ill mother while doing handwork at home to earn a living. My father had died 7 years previously and my mother had become sickly as a result. I cared for all three, did the housework and in the time remaining made mixture (short eats) to sell. I was hoping that my brother would study and start working but it did not happen. Shelling and aerial bombardment did not allow us to stay in one place with any peace. We were displaced to seven placed and faced a lot of economic difficulties. At this stage in the eighth place while in a bunker with another family, I took my mother to the toilet and my brother went to fetch water when I heard a loud noise. When I looked he was lying on the ground, when I got closer his legs were missing. I ran carrying him while screaming save, “save him, save him”. I kept him in the hospital there for three days. I have no news of my mother nor of my disabled brother. Now I am at the Vavuniya hospital unable to leave my 13 year old brother without legs. I do not know how to go on living.

Orphan to an orphan

I am 24 years and my wife is 24 years. It was a love marriage. We have a six month female child. Our relations have cut us off but I had a government job. We were living happily when the war started. Because this we decided to escape to Vavuniya. We left all our property and were displaced to many places. Finally in one place there was a big crowd and we were under a tree when there was a noise of a kifir bomber. All ran helter skelter. The child was in my hand. Before I realized what was happening they put us in a bus and deposited us elsewhere. I searched for my wife but could not find her. The baby was crying. Finally they brought us to a camp in Vavuniya. I do not know how to care for the baby. I am an orphan and have another orphan. I ask everyone to find my wife.

Coming and going

I was 27 years old living happily with my husband and two small children in our native village. Husband was famer with a lot of land. We were able to find enough food. The war situation made us move 3 to 4 times. We were heading for a safe place when there was heavy shelling. I do not know what happened next. When I opened my eyes I was in hospital. My mother and daughter were by my side. I was without a leg and fingers. Daughter is also injured. I learned that my husband and 2 year old daughter had passed away. I am 7 months pregnant. I do not know how I am going to give birth to this child and then bring it up. I am troubled. There are no relations here. How is our future going to be? It is foreboding.

Where is peace?

I am a 20 year old female from Urithrapuram, Killinochchi with three brothers. I have studied A/L level (year 12). I was living very happily with my mother, father and brothers who treated me as a chella pillai (favourite, spoilt child). My mother used to practice Ayurveda (traditional) medicine. Then the war started up again. It was mainly a bunker life. We lost our sleep and peace. We struggled to find food even for once a day. When we were displaced and in a bunker, there was sounds of many shells. We crouched in 25

fear. Suddenly there was a loud noise close by. I lost consciousness. (When I regained consciousness) I found that I had lost my leg and hand. My mother was besides me to help. Then we were transferred to this hospital. I am in this handicapped state. Only my mother is here. What has happened to my father and brothers? When will we be together again? Is this my state? To think it is sorrowful (with tears).

What a life?

A 60 year old woman was mumbling: I have three married children with 10 grand children. We were displaced 14 times from our home. Food was difficult. Rice was 250, chilli powder 22, coconut 250. Rice and dhal was food. We could not take it anymore. So we tried to leave. When we were in a trappan shack, a shell fell killing my husband, son in law, grandchildren, all together 8 people died then and there. Daughter and a grandchild were injured. So I was sent as a helper. I do not know what has happened to the rest. We have to beg even for the clothes we wear. We did not even bury the dead. Do we need a life like this? I could have died with them. Why did I come here? Have I to go on living? Those who should live have gone. What is there for me anymore….

Where is solace?

I was a 43 year old driver from Killinochchi owning a private bus. We were well off. With 4 children we were displaced 6 times. At that time I had 5 lacks worth of goods in my vehicle. My wife and I were injured when we inside the last bunker. They (LTTE) had taken away my eldest daughter. I had three sons aged, 13, 11 , 9. I was injured in the head. My was injured in her chest. They brought us by ship (ICRC) to Padaviya. They sent my wife and children by ambulance. My wife left us (death) on the way to Vavuniya Hospital . I am not worried about the loss of my property or my well being. The loss of my daughter and wife is my big sorrow. I did not see my wife at her end. My children have also become alone.

Why should we live?

We have somehow survived. My 13 year old son is by my bedside with a sorrowful face. I suffer continuously from my leg that has been amputated above the knee due to shell injury. I cry all the time. I had tied my leg up with cloth tightly while living in bunkers for six months. We were displaced from Killinochchi three times before staying in Suthanthirapuram. We had not eaten properly for three days due to continuous shelling. Suddenly there was a lull in the shelling and my children wanted to eat some chicken. To fulfill their desire, I skinned a chicken and cooked it. After eating it we wanted to sleep. While lying down, a shell fell on our dwelling killing my wife and two children then and there. Only the two of us survived. We could also have died. What shall I do? Somebody known to us had picked me up and sent us to the Vavuniya Hospital .

Separation anguish

I am 30 years old. I was married with 4 children living happily. I never expected that our family would come to this state. At first, in January (2009), four people were killed and 30 injured by shelling in our village. After seeing that we no longer wanted to stay there, we wanted to go to a place without shelling. We left only with the clothes we were wearing. But wherever we went, shelling and Kifir bombing followed us. I did not know what to do. There was rain, sun, jungles, roads, schools (as refugee camps), all without food, water, bathing, we suffered terribly. We dug a bunker for safety and were living in a camp one day when the sun heat was unbearable under the tharappal. We and many others were under a tree. On my lap was my last child, others were playing when suddenly there was the sound of shell exploding. I tried to carry my child to run but couldn’t. The shell fell where the children were playing. I looked thinking they all had died. A daughter was unconscious. I did not know what to do. I left the child in my arms, picked up my daughter who was unconscious and ran. She was injured in her abdomen. She needed to be treated urgently…..

Remorse

Rada is a 41 years old labourer from Killinochchi. He was married with four children. In 1990, to escape from the terrible war they had sought refuge in India . When there was relative improvement in the 26

situation in 1996, they had returned. He was a heart patient taking treatment but was able to educate his children. They were living happily when the war broke out again. Shells started falling and exploding in their area. To safeguard his children they moved to several places with some their belongings. Their life was spent mainly in bunkers. The noise of artillery shells, firearms and bombs terrorized ordinary civilians. People ran helter-skelter seeking safety. On that 4.2.2009 when his wife (3y years) and son (7 years) had just come out of the bunker, when they were badly injured by a shell attack and lay in a pool of blood. Son died there. In the hope of at least saving the life of his wife, they took her to hospital. As the treatment was not successful, she left this world the next morning. When Rada learned of this he did not know what to do, he became benumbed. In the midst of heavy shelling they could not carry out the burial of his wife and son properly. Returning to their shelter with his remaining three children, Rada could not control his mind. He found all his belongings had been destroyed. In this terrible state, on an impulse he tried to consume poison and also give to his children. The children cried loudly. His 16 year old son thwarted the suicidal attempt. Then Rada decided to save the lives of at least his remaining children, joined a crowd of escaping refugees on 7.2.2009 and reached Vavuniya. They are now at the Gamini school camp. Having lost two lives to the horrible war, those thoughts came recurring daily to Rada. He was found to have lack of appetite, sleep, crying without realizing it, unable to socialize with others, suicidal ideation, not knowing what to do next, headache, numbing of the head, worry about the future of his three children and a deep depression. He felt remorse about not doing the funeral rites of his wife and son. He is without the support or help of his relations.

Guilt

Fifty one year old Siva was born in Killinochchi and worked as farmer. He was married with four children. The eldest was married with a child and his daughter was a school teacher. They had escaped from shell attacks to live in bunkers at Sudanthirapuram. A shell fell there killing the eldest son and daughter. A son was injured in his chest and leg while his wife escaped with minor injuries. His daughter in law and child are in a refugee camp in Vavuniya His injured son is at Mannar hospital while his wife is in another camp. He is with his daughter at the Pampaimadu 7th mile camp unable to contact his siblings or relations and without contact with his injured son, daughter in law and child and wife. He is severely depressed with continuous crying, loss of appetite, lack of sleep, repeated memories of what happened in the Vanni, poor self-care and headache. On counseling, he cried, revealing that images of his two children dying in front of him and their leaving their bodies in the bunker without even carrying out their funeral rites keeps recurring in his mind preventing his sleep. As it was now one month since the event, He felt especially guilty that he was not even able to arrange the customary 45 day remembrance ceremony for them

Widowed and pregnant

24 year old Mrs. Kavitha was 8 months pregnant and mother of 4 year old son. Her husband was an ordinary labourer. They had been married 5 year and was going in a happy direction when they had to flee for their safety when the dreadful war broke out. Everywhere there were the sights and sounds of shells attacks and reverberating sounds of gunfire. In many places there were the kifir bombings. People experienced allola kallola (pandemonium).They ran seeking shelter. Their daily lives were spent in bunkers. Everywhere there was marana olangal (death wailing) with deaths from very young children to the elderly falling victims to the awful war. It was in these circumstances that Kavitha floundered having lost all her belongings, separated from relations. Facing great difficulty her family tried to reach the army controlled area when her husband was shot by the armed group (LTTE). In that place there were many people with fatal injuries lying in pools of blood. When Kavitha looked at her husband he was in dead posture. To save her child, she left her husband’s body and joined other people to attain the army controlled region. She is currently living in a IDP welfare camp with her four year old child. She is without contact of her relations. She was in deep thought about her upcoming delivery period and future life. She helplessly asked, “Who will look after my four year old when I give birth?” Kavitha was found in a disturbed mental state with loss of appetite, lack of sleep, recurring thoughts relating to her husband being supported by her four year old in the welfare camp.

Hopelessness 27

Somu was a 30 year old male married with a 11/2 year old son. On that day, he had left his wife and child in a safe place to go and bring his mother and sisters. Youngest sister was a final year university student while the other sisters were married. When they had started to leave with their belongings, the army had seen them and started firing. His mother, sister and one baby died then and there. His youngest sister had fled. He had run after her fearing that she would be caught by the army and raped. Bullets pierced his neck and chest. The next day he regained consciousness hearing the voice of soldiers who had come there. They kicked him asking, “where are the others?”. He begged them, “you have killed the others, kill me also.” He was in a state of extreme distress and frustration at Vavuniya Hospital without knowing what had happened to his sister and without information about his wife and child. It was found that his legs and body would not function. He was unable to lift his neck due to the injury in the neck. He had repeated thoughts about his sister and what had happened that day. He had lost all hope about his state.

Dreams shattered

My name is Ravi , a 15 year old born and bred in Killinochchi with two sisters, mother and father who was a car mechanic. Being a keen student, I had succeeded in the fifth year scholarship and was continuing my education at the Killinochchi Mahavidiyalayam (high school). When the war broke out again in 2006, the Tigers made many attempts to conscript me under their ‘ veedukoruvar (one person for each house)’ policy. While I was returning from school they tried to forcefully abduct me in their vehicle. Somehow I escaped through by-lanes leaving my bicycle behind to reach home. This happened in January, 2008. After that I stopped going to school. My parents also stopped my sisters from attending school. I could not study. I could not come out of my home. My life was frustrating. In the evenings, I used to play football for an hour at the Thirunagar grounds. That was blocked. People found me full of anger and despair. I would often get into fights with my father. I would say we should have gone to Vavuniya during the peace period. How long not to go to school, tuition and the grounds? If these are not to be, I will go and join them (LTTE). My parents were very concerned about me. They were unable to do anything.

Under our Margosa tree, I had dug a bunker. As soon as I heard the sound of Kifir (planes) I would be the first into the bunker. Then would come my sisters, then mother and finally, father. Every day we would be going inside at least five times. As soon as I heard the sound of Kifir, without realizing it I would develop palpitations and find it difficult to breathe. I would feel agitated. When it dived (high pitched sound of diving) to bomb, I would Veerudu (piercingly) scream. Its (Kifir) sound was that terrorizing.

We had some relief at night. At the beginning we had electricity for two hours. I studied with that help. I would watch TV for a short while. There was only the Nidharshanam13 service. They only showed only dramas and pictures (movies) related to war. Daily they would show the ghastly pictures of peoples killed by shells and aerial bombing. My body would tremble when I looked at them. Feelings of antagonism, frustration and hatred towards the government forces would arise in me without my realization.

13 LTTE TV programme.

As the fighting got closer and closer, we first moved from Thirunagar to Tharmapuram. We put up a tent in a small plot and stayed there. We had no toilets or clean water. In the monsoon rains our tent was blown away. We had to live in two feet deep water for two days. With all that, I somehow appeared for the “O” level (year 10 GCE national exam) held last December (2008) at the Tharmapuram school. I still hoped for good results to study “A” level science and become a doctor.

When the fighting passed Paranthan and came towards Tharmapuram, we moved to Visuvamadu. We put up a tent on land belonging to my father’s friend and lived there. February 10th (2009) there was heavy shelling. The army was advancing towards Visuvamadu. As our bunker had filled with water we could not stay there. At about 1 PM when we had come out the bunker this horrible incident occurred. A shell that came from nowhere landed on our tent and exploded. Everywhere there was the sound of crying. I lay in a pool of blood, moaning. I could not get up and walk. On my side was my sister without any sound. Only my father was uninjured. When he picked me up crying loudly with oppari 28

(weiling), my two arms were not in my control. I could not move them. I was able to move only my right thumb. Amidst all these difficulties, I was admitted to Puthukudirrupu hospital and underwent surgery. When I opened my eyes the next day my world was darkened. My two sisters who I had uyiruku uyirai nesitha (loved as my own life) had died in the shelling. My father had buried them in that bunker itself. He had brought me and my mother to hospital. My two arms were amputated and my other injures were dressed. On my side lay my mother who had had her right leg amputated below the knee. In this misery, we were taken by the Red Cross (ICRC) ship to Trincomalee Hospital . After one week there, we were sent to Mannar Hospital .

Now my whole life has become gloomy. I still have the dream of becoming a doctor. “Can I study with prosthetic arms, doctor? Please help me.”

Helplessness

50 year old Vani was a shopkeeper from Tharmpuram with three children. The eldest daughter was married with two daughters. The second son had been forcefully taken away by the Iyakam (movement- LTTE) a year ago. When the fighting became severe in January, they loaded their belongings in a landmaster and with other village folk were displaced from place to place. The 13th displacement was to what had been declared a safety zone, Iranaipalam where they stayed for 10 days. People had made tents to live in. As shells had started falling on that day, they loaded their goods onto the landmaster and decided to move on. But her 8 year old granddaughter insisted on having fried fish, they delayed to cook a meal. Varatharany and her daughter busied themselves in cooking while her husband, son and grandchildren were sleeping in the tent. Her Son-in-law had gone to the market.

That day, 21/2/2009, morning at 11:45 AM a shell fired by the army completely buried their families happiness in a deep hole and made them nirkathy (helpless). The shell not only landed on the landmaster burning it, but also pali eduthiduthu (killed) her husband, son and two grandchildren. Varatharany and her daughter were injured. On hearing her daughter wailing “my children are dead”, she had gone slowly when she saw her husband lying dead, her grandchildren with their bodies thundikapadu (severed) and her son injured in his head, arms and legs struggling to live. She collapsed there. On hearing her distraught daughter who despite bleeding profusely had run over and was trying to pick up her kuttuyir (barely alive, process of dying) children while lamenting loudly, bystanders had come and taken them to hospital. The son-in-law had come later and buried the dead with the help of others there.

Both of them were treated for two days at Trincomalee hospital, then sent to Vavuniya hospital and currently at the Saiva Prihasa School refugee camp. For the last one month, Varatharani and her daughter have been continuously crying with constant memories of their children and re-experiencing what happened. They are disturbed by suicidal thoughts, fatigue, insomnia, and guilty feelings. Although they say that her son-in-law is their comfort, when he is alone he laments loudly saying, “we have lost our relations and our belongings. There is no point in having come here. I am useless” (he had survival guilt, of not having been there to help his family when the deaths happened).

Interviews

Key-informant, family and extended family interviews and focus group discussions regarding family and community level changes indicated mostly negative but also positive developments (see Table 1). Generally there was consensus that family and community life had suffered due to deaths, separations and deprivations. Relationships, trust, cohesion, beliefs and ethical values had declined, some said deteriorated, destroyed. Instead there was an increase in misunderstandings, conflict, selfishness, suspicions, anger, bitterness, virakthy (loss of interest), 29

veruppu ( state of detestation), soham (sorrow), alcoholism and sexual laxity. The problems associated with the increase in alcoholism and sexual laxity has been raised consistently by health workers in the camps. Expression of survival guilt was common, particularly after the experiences in the internment camps. After losing so many of their relations or not knowing their whereabouts, many said they could rather have died in the shelling. Outward blame for what happened was common, some blamed the government; others India and some the LTTE. There was anger and feelings of betrayal by the LTTE. Some said it was the fate of the Tamils (thalaivithiy), of having been born Tamil in this country. Most felt that there had been a decline in religious beliefs and practices, loss of faith and frevour. One widow described how she and her children had left her husband who had been shattered by a shell but still alive and struggling on the road to escape themselves. She is haunted by this memory and blamed God for creating the terrible situation (pallapona kadavul). But others mentioned that it was only religion and faith in god that had sustained them when everything else failed. Their only trust was that God would find a way out for them. Some mentioned an increase in new relationships; mutual help and co-operation; a sense of unity and togetherness by being thrown together against adversity which was marked during the last days of the ‘final war’ and thereafter for a short period but had progressively decreased. A common observation was that people had become dependent on handouts, used to welfare and decline in efforts to work and earn. People had betrayed (kaddikodduthu) others for benefits and privilege from the army and authorities. But, now with the resettlement process, motivation to rebuild their lives and livelihood was strong. There was a sense with some exceptions (those who had suffered and lost most) that their situation was improving and there was hope for the future compared to how it was one year ago. There were some positive stories of resilience and post-traumatic growth. A senior government officer and writer said that they had gone through great hardship (peravalam), but that they now only needed to get back their infrastructure, resources, occupational opportunities and jobs to rebuild and restart their lives. He denied any ill effects like poor sleep, bad dreams or loss of motivation. He appeared in good health and committed to contribute to the resettlement and rehabilitation process. A young doctor who had served through the last days of the fighting said that he had seen terrible injuries and deaths, struggled through the heavy shelling and firing at the different hospitals, working without rest. At one stage he had lost all fear and was able to continue working amidst all the chaos. He was ready to do anything. He was now seen to be extraordinarily dedicated, motivated, a tireless worker and administrator appreciated by all except the higher authorities. A medic, Thamilvany Gnanakumar also described the last days of fighting as harrowing but “After looking at the people dying and dead bodies everywhere, it is like nothing threatens me anymore, it is like I have had the hard time in my life and I think I am prepared to take up whatever happens in life now. I’m not that old Vany that sits down and cries for little things. I’m stronger now after going through and seeing all that problem. My mind is clear now”(Chamberlain, 2009).30

OPINION: Sinhala nationalism, civil society organisations and the future

2010-05-31T09:52:00.000-07:00

Samanmalee Unanthenna

Nationalism in our post-modern era is an extremely suspect concept. It smacks of homogeneity, patriarchy and insularity; all ideas and concepts that our generation has learned with good reason to suspect. Most difficult of all, it has often been anti-minority. My intention in this article is not to defend nationalism but rather to inquire into the particular characteristics of Sinhala nationalism and to interrogate the relationship of Sri Lankan civil society organisations and movements with it. I would also like put forward some ideas regarding ways of engagement as part of civil society in these times of totalitarianism and government supported racism. By civil society organisations and movements I mean those that purport to be an alternative voice to the state. They may also differentiate themselves from regular political parties although most of them will have explicitly political agendas and strategies.

As pointed out by many historians, Sri Lanka’s leaders at the time of independence did not lead a mass anti-colonial movement like in neighbouring India. We were pretty much granted independence and universal franchise in the teeth of hesitation by our leaders who had to be convinced reluctantly that the masses were ready for democracy. Sri Lanka’s nationalist struggles were rooted more in relation to a revival of Sinhala identity, culture and the Buddhist religion. While a similar revival was also taking place within the Tamil population, I am only concerned with the characteristics of Sinhala nationalism in this article.

Recent analysts have been pointing out that Sinhala nationalism has never been only or even primarily anti-Tamil. In fact its main fight has been against westernised elites, colonialism and neo-colonialism. These elements are linked to the strong feeling of past injustice that informs the Sinhala Buddhist identity. This is linked to the notion that successive waves of foreign domination displaced the Sinhala Buddhists from their ‘rightful’ place and that the state has a responsibility to redress these grievances. There is a material basis for this: demographic and socio-economic changes that resulted from free education policies, better health care facilities and the crisis in the agriculture sector created a large group of rural, vernacular educated youth seeking to move out of agriculture. But a stagnating economy meant that aspirations and expectations could not be met easily. Government jobs were the main source through which these aspirations could be met. It is in such a context that language became a key issue around which nationalist sentiments were most strongly expressed. English represented the language not only of the coloniser but of the local elite who maintained status and class inequalities through their political, economic and cultural domination symbolised by language. The English speaking, ‘westernised’ elite was able to access opportunities that were denied to the vernacular educated masses. Perceived imbalances in the representation of Tamils in the government sector and in the universities added an anti-minority element to the language problem. But the main grievance was against the state and a leadership that was alienated from the culture and values of a considerable section of the population. The 1956 political campaign of SWRD Bandaranaike managed to capitalise on these grievances and to promise a leadership and a state that would work differently.

The fact that the state was evaluated and legitimised on the basis of its ability to address the historical grievances of the Sinhalese meant that successive political parties campaigned on the basis of promises to satisfy the majority community. And it appears that the more unpopular the policies of a government have been, the more aggressively it has played the nationalist card. The government of J R Jayawardene is a classic case in point. This most liberal, pro-western government was preaching a Dharmishta Samajaya while busily dismantling democratic institutions, consolidating power within the Executive and launching a series of reforms that in the long term was to make Sri Lanka one of the countries in the Asian region with one of the fastest growing gaps between the rich and the poor. It was also during JR’s watch that the ethnic conflict took a turn from simmering tension and occasional skirmishes to one of protracted violence and terror.

It is not difficult to see similarities with the regime of JR Jayawardence and the Rajapakse regime. Even more consummately than the Jayawardene regime, the Rajapakses have managed to present themselves as ‘authentically’ Sri Lankan. The elitist, cosmopolitan image of Ranil Wickramasinghe, whose obvious discomfort with anything to do with people, let alone the local, has served as a superb counterfoil to the ‘authenticity’ and common touch of the Rajapakses. Their intransigence in negotiating with the west, diatribes against neo-colonialism, the aggression against the ‘interference’ of foreigners in the affairs of a sovereign nation have nicely chimed with the sense of historical grievances that is embedded within Sinhala nationalism. They have managed to maintain this image while implementing policies that will surely increase hardship and suffering for a majority of people in this country. For there is no doubt, the kind of development envisaged by the Rajapakse regime is not about a fairer, more just world but perpetuating the exploitation of the vulnerable.

But to come back to the problem of civil society, its intellectual disdain of nationalism as a concept has meant that it has also failed to grasp that within the ideas of Sinhala nationalism lies a very real problem of a society that is mired in privileges and connections. That apart from the idea of historical grievances, the fact that post-colonial Sri Lanka has failed to establish institutions and systems that are not rooted in feudalism, patronage and elitism is what drives the nationalist imagination. The dependence on social connections has become so much a part of our lives that most of us operate in that system unthinkingly. Most of us would not think twice about doing favours for a ‘known’ person or would not dream of attempting to do anything without first finding a ‘contact’ who can facilitate things for us; that who a person is, their background, their networks becomes a primary consideration in how we treat that person. This has meant that those who are without connections and who are not known, struggle at most things ranging from getting attention from a doctor to putting a child to school to getting a job to being heard in a seminar or workshop. Even if we look around most of our civil society organisations it is easy to see a pattern of old school, family and social connections. This has prevented civil society initiatives from being truly anti-establishment because whatever its pretensions to the contrary it remains very much a part of the establishment. This has meant that civil society organisations in Sri Lanka have never been able to lead or influence social movements; rather, civil society organisations are at best doing good work in an isolated little corner of their world or at worst project driven, aid-dependant NGOs.

If there is to be any genuine change in Sri Lanka, change that does not involve one cycle of violence followed by another, as part of civil society we need to engage in some serious reflection. How much have we been part of a system upholding the status-quo? How many of us can genuinely claim to have looked beyond the comfort zones of our cultural and social networks to reach places where our most taken-for-granted positions may be challenged? Even in our everyday practices and engagements, how much have we moved beyond our personal networks? And what kind of influence can we have if we do not? Let us be realistic; we do not have the power to change anything unless we can truly become a part of broader social movements.

If we are serious about the threat that faces Sri Lankan society today in the face of a totalitarian and corrupt regime, we may have to at least enter into dialogues with those beyond our immediate circles. We may need to examine more closely why ideas of the nation and nationalism mean so much to people; why a sense of historical grievance is so much a part of the national consciousness. This regime (like others before them) have tapped into the racist elements of nationalist sentiments. What I am suggesting here is that the more multi-dimensional nature of nationalist thinking is taken into consideration so that we can engage with it in a way that challenges all of us. It may require us to examine our privileged positions; and to ensure that we are not simply reproducing circles of privilege. It will be hard – not simply because of how it may challenge us, but because the euphoria of the end of the war, the short-term benefits of the big development projects that are being implemented, will mean that not many people will be ready to enter into a dialogue about social change. But there are dissenting voices. And those voices are not just within our circle of civil society organisations. In fact, they may be from among those we would in general not consider our allies. Maybe there won’t be complete cohesion among those voices; but unless we are willing to understand where they come from; what the commonalities and differences are among us, how we can challenge and change each other, we will be nothing more than ineffectual. And that is something we cannot afford to be. Not in these times.

31^st May 2010

Eelam experiments: The transnational versus local realities

2010-05-30T02:50:00.000-07:00

Tanuja Thurairajah

‘Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign.

But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize.’[1]

Chimamanda Adichie

I was inspired by the above words of Chimamanda Adichie talking about the ¨Danger of a single story’ and I reflected on how true this has been and will be in the case of Sri Lanka and its instrasigient history of political misfortune and human suffering. It’s been a year since the decisive end of the military offensive that had succeeded in re-claiming territorial sovereignity of the Sri Lankan state, but it was a victory that failed in claiming the Tamils as an integral and respected part of it is citizenry.

The recently concluded elections in Sri Lanka which registered a low voter turn out in the North & East draws focus to a deeper political malaise. While procrastinations and empty promises along with an impotent Tamil political representation within the country symbolise a crisis in Tamil political representation including the fragmentation of existing political parties which plagues the post-war context, the desperate second bid for Tamil Eelam has taken centre stage in a renewed diabolic game.

The Tamil diaspora has undoubtedly been very vocal during the last stages of the military offensive and has through its extreme activism summoned widespread international attention raising the question whether there has been an oversimplification of the power of diaspora activism. Their activism took the form of media campaigns and public protests which fueled nationalistic sentiments and crippled transport systems of their host countries but essentially their activism seemed to continue the chase after an unrealistic dream at an unbelievably high cost.

R. Cheran believes that this latest obsession of the Tamil diaspora, the Transitional Government of Tamil Eelam (TGTE) should be viewed positively and encouraged as an ‘experiment in democracy’[2]. But would this experiment steal another generation of Sri Lankans from an opportunity of breaking away from the time hardened vines of the failures of the past? and could it in reality be an attempt at harnessing international credibility, creating hardliners and even fuel the resurgence of terrorism?

The TGTE Advisory committee report[3] quotes examples of the Eritrean, Israeli and Croatian diaspora and their political activism regarding the politics of their respective homelands. While this reiterates the importance of diaspora activism and its contribution as critiques of internal political processes including political representation and their function as key players in reconstruction and investment, equating the activities of the Tamil diaspora with these diaspora groups seems to be inappropriate even though the potential of the Tamil diaspora in functioning as a social movement would be able to harness more realistic and far-reaching consequences.

One of the most important issues is that the TGTE Advisory Committee while claiming to find a solution to the aspirations of the Tamils has made a colossal mistake in failing to de-link itself from the LTTE which is clearly highlighted in their final study report which glorifies the role played by the LTTE, ‘The LTTE’s military power and the resultant de facto state created a political space for Tamils to freely express their political aspirations for the realization of the right to self-determination. However, that political space no longer exists‘. This also symbolises a deeply fragmented Tamil community and its inability for self reflection. A future Tamil Eelam will not succeed in bringing together the whole Tamil community together as it transgresses the core elements of democratic theory; legitimacy and a healthy representation.

Another issue of concern is the potential resuscitation of the Eelam campaign of ‘fundraising for the cause’ which had a large part to play in the protraction of the military side of the conflict in Sri Lanka. Groups supportive of the TGTE and Eelamist propaganda are getting increasingly vocal in relation to this as illustrated by the statement of the spokesperson for the US based group ‘Tamils for Obama’ states[4] that ‘One of our duties will be financial support of the TGTE. We suggested that each diaspora Tamil should make a monthly contribution of $25 to the TGTE after the election when the TGTE is able to accept and use the money. Tamils should consider this a voluntary tax. The TGTE is going to need the money for all of the things of any national government does. For the TGTE these tasks will include maintaining a think tank to advise them on how to advance the goal of Tamil Eelam“.

In terms of the more operational aspects of the TGTE the final study report outlines the tasks of the provisional government states the following:

Uniting Tamil entities and subscribing to the Vadukkodai resolution
Work with the Tamil leadership in SL
Negotiating with the Sinhala nation
Direct links with foreign governments and international organization
Political programme with participation of Muslim representatives

Nevertheless, these tasks are merely secondary when compared to a much more important issue which is the acceptance of the TGTE as a government or power centre. The report states that in order to recognise the TGTE as a power centre key actors such as the Tamil diaspora, Tamil people in homeland, global Tamil community from other countries such as Malaysia, India and Singapore and the international community need only to accept it through their ‘actions’ – ‘These actors need not publicly endorse TGTE but should accept it through their actions’. As it is the case with the entire report the vagueness and lack of forethought into the practical application of the concept of transnational governance is severely lacking as is the explanation of how such a government will ensure legitimacy and its territorial sovereignty .

Also while the TGTE claims that it will be ‘formed and sustained by the people‘ and that ‘it relies on the exercise of the democratic political rights such as freedom of association and freedom of expression’ and that it will accommodate the Muslims within the TGTE and ensure that they will be able to exercise their right to a separate autonomous state if the need arises, it has failed to acknowledge its part in the deaths, disappearances and its role in the deprivation of the Tamils’ right to peaceful coexistence thereby ignoring the need for truth seeking. Will the Tamil diaspora fail to acknowledge the past suffering of all Sri Lankans, the half-truths[5] and the wrong choices and continue this foolish gamble, deaf to the real aspirations of the Tamils who are living in the country, in a sad bid to appease their guilt ridden desires?

The elections for Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam (TGTE) commenced on May 2, 2010, in 26 countries with an expectation of a 60 – 70% voter turn out. While detailed information regarding the elections (number of votes polled etc.) is still not publicly available the representatives have been identified and the inaugural sessions of the TGTE took place on May 17 – 19, 2010 in Philadelphia. Conversations with some of the diaspora Tamils who had voted in this election reveal a disturbing but persistent trend that has marred the politics of the Tamils for a long time, essentially the danger of the single story. Tamils keep repeating the same mistake of uninformed decision making while standing steadfastly to the belief that as ‘victims’ all their actions would amount to self-defence; at any cost.

[1] ‘The danger of the single story’, Chimamanda Adichie, Novelist on TED Talks, www.ted.com

[2] ‘Transitional government of Tamil Eelam is an experiment in democracy – Dr. Cheran’, Antony Reinhart, http://transcurrents.com/tc/2010/05/transnational_govt_of_tamil_ee.html#more

[3] ‘Formation of a Provisional Transnational Government of Tamil Eelam: Final report based on the study’, TGTE Advisory Committee, http://govtamileelam.org/gov/

[4] http://diasporaweekend.com/a931917-tamils-for-obama-says-we-should.cfm

[5] ‘Provisional Transitional Government of Tamil Eelam is a dangerous exercise’, Rajan Hoole http://transcurrents.com/tc/2009/07/provisional_transnational_gove.html

Courtesy: Groundviews

one year has passed

2010-05-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

Association of War Affected Women
Centre for Policy Alternatives
INFORM
Women and Media Collective

war crimes in Sri Lanka: International Crisis Group Report

2010-05-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

Asia Report N°191

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY AND RECOMMENDATIONS

The Sri Lankan security forces and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) repeatedly violated international humanitarian law during the last five months of their 30-year civil war. Although both sides committed atrocities throughout the many years of conflict, the scale and nature of violations particularly worsened from January 2009 to the government’s declaration of victory in May. Evidence gathered by the International Crisis Group suggests that these months saw tens of thousands of Tamil civilian men, women, children and the elderly killed, countless more wounded, and hundreds of thousands deprived of adequate food and medical care, resulting in more deaths.

This evidence also provides reasonable grounds to believe the Sri Lankan security forces committed war crimes with top government and military leaders potentially responsible. There is evidence of war crimes committed by the LTTE and its leaders as well, but most of them were killed and will never face justice. An international inquiry into alleged crimes is essential given the absence of political will or capacity for genuine domestic investigations, the need for an accounting to address the grievances that drive conflict in Sri Lanka, and the potential of other governments adopting the Sri Lankan model of counter-insurgency in their own internal conflicts.

Crisis Group possesses credible evidence that is sufficient to warrant an independent international investigation of the following allegations:

The intentional shelling of civilians. Starting in late January, the government and security forces encouraged hundreds of thousands of civilians to move into ever smaller government-declared No Fire Zones (NFZs) and then subjected them to repeated and increasingly intense artillery and mortar barrages and other fire. This continued through May despite the government and security forces knowing the size and location of the civilian population and scale of civilian casualties.
The intentional shelling of hospitals. The security forces shelled hospitals and makeshift medical centres – many overflowing with the wounded and sick – on multiple occasions even though they knew of their precise locations and functions. During these incidents, medical staff, the United Nations, the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and others continually informed the government and security forces of the shelling, yet they continued to strike medical facilities through May forcing civilians to abandon them.
The intentional shelling of humanitarian operations. Despite knowing the exact location of humanitarian operations and food distribution points, the security forces repeatedly shelled these areas, which were crowded with humanitarian workers, vehicles and supplies, and civilians. Many were killed or wounded trying to deliver or receive basic humanitarian assistance, including women, children and infants.

The consequences of the security forces’ shelling were made substantially worse by the government’s obstruction of food and medical treatment for the civilian population, including by knowingly claiming the civilian population was less than one third its actual size and denying adequate supplies.

The government declined to respond to Crisis Group’s request for comment on these allegations.

There is also strong evidence that the LTTE engaged in:

The intentional shooting of civilians. The LTTE fired on and killed or wounded many civilians in the conflict zone who were attempting to flee the shelling and cross into government-controlled areas.
The intentional infliction of suffering on civilians. The LTTE refused to allow civilians to leave the conflict zone, despite grave danger from shelling and lack of humanitarian supplies, even when the civilians were injured and dying. The LTTE also forcibly recruited many civilians to fight or serve as labourers and beat some family members who protested the recruitment.

The substantial body of evidence collected by Crisis Group since August 2009 offers a compelling case for investigation of the conduct of hostilities and the role of the military and political leadership on both sides. It consists of numerous eyewitness statements that Crisis Group has taken and considers to be reliable as well as hundreds of photographs, video, satellite images, electronic communications and documents from multiple credible sources. But it covers only a small number of the violations allegedly committed and is but a first step in what should be a major effort to examine the last year of the war. Among the other allegations that should be investigated are the recruitment of children by the LTTE and the execution by the security forces of those who had laid down their arms and were trying to surrender.

Much of the international community turned a blind eye to the violations when they were happening. Some issued statements calling for restraint but took no action as the government continually denied any wrongdoing. Many countries had declared the LTTE terrorists and welcomed their defeat. They encouraged the government’s tough response while failing to press for political reforms to address Tamil grievances or for any improvement in human rights. The eventual destruction of the LTTE militarily came at the cost of immense civilian suffering and an acute challenge to the laws of war. It also undermined the credibility of the United Nations and further entrenched a bitterness among Tamils in Sri Lanka and elsewhere which may make a durable peace elusive. Now a number of other countries are considering “the Sri Lankan option” – unrestrained military action, refusal to negotiate, disregard for humanitarian issues – as a way to deal with insurgencies and other violent groups.

To recover from this damage, there must be a concerted effort to investigate alleged war crimes by both sides and prosecute those responsible. Sri Lanka is not a member state of the International Criminal Court (ICC), and the UN Security Council is not likely to refer these crimes to the ICC in the short term. While some of the LTTE may go on trial in Sri Lanka, it is virtually impossible that any domestic investigation into the government or security forces would be impartial given the entrenched culture of impunity. A UN-mandated international inquiry should be the priority, and those countries that have jurisdiction over alleged crimes – including countries such as the U.S. where dual nationals or residents may be suspected – should vigorously pursue investigations.

For full report:
http://www.crisisgroup.org/en/regions/asia/south-asia/sri-lanka/191-war-crimes-in-sri-lanka.aspx

முக்காலமும் மூழ்கிக் குளித்தாலும் காகம் வெள்ளையாகுமா?

2010-05-07T03:05:00.000-07:00

சதா.ஜீ.

புலன் பெயர்ந்த இலங்கை தமிழர்களின் ‘நாடு கடந்த தமிழீழ அரசி’ன் நோக்கத்தை இரண்டு வகையாகப் பிரிக்கலாம். ஒன்று புலன் பெயர்ந்துள்ள இலங்கைத் தமிழர்களின் பணத்தை கொள்ளையடிப்பது. இரண்டு புலன் பெயர்ந்துள்ள இலங்கைத் தமிழர்களின் பணத்தை கொள்ளையடிப்பதுதான் அந்த இரண்டும். நாடுகடந்த அரசுக்கான தேர்தலுக்கே லொத்தர் குலுக்கியவர்கள், நாடு கடந்த அரசாங்கத்தை ‘ரன்’ பண்ணுவதற்கு எதைப்போட்டுக் குலுக்குவார்கள்? என்பதை அடுத்தடுத்த நாட்களில் தெரியவரும். தேர்தலன்று பல சுவையான சம்பவங்கள் அந்தந்த நாடுகளில் நடந்திருக்கின்றன. குறிப்பாக கைகலப்புகள், வாக்குப்பெட்டியை கடத்தல், குறிப்பிட்ட நபருக்கு வாக்களிக்கும்படி கோரி கண்காணித்தல் என்று பல சம்பவங்கள் நடைபெற்றிருக்கின்றன. லண்டன் நகரில் நடைபெற்ற வாக்கெடுப்பு நிலையத்திலிருந்து வாக்குப்பெட்டி களவாடப்பட்டிருக்கிறது. கனடாவில் நடைபெற்ற வாக்கெடுப்பு நிலையமொன்றில் போட்டியிடும் 5வேட்பாளர்களும் அங்கு வாக்களிக்க வந்தவர்களிடம் எனக்கு வாக்களியுங்கள் உனக்கு வாக்களியுங்கள் என்று கதைக்கத் தொடங்கி கைகலப்பில் முடிந்தது. இதைக் கேள்விப்பட்ட பலரும் வாக்கெடுப்பு நிலையப்பக்கமே திரும்பிப் பார்க்கவில்லை.

கனடா மத்தியில் போட்டியிட்ட 5 வேட்பாளர்களும் தெரிவாகியிருக்கிறார்கள். அங்கு பிரசன்னமான 5 வேட்பாளர்களும் தமக்குப் போடும்படி கோர வாக்களிப்பதற்காக வந்தவர்களும் வஞ்சனையில்லாமல் 5பேருக்கும் புள்ளடி போட்டிருக்கிறார்கள் இது எப்படியிருக்கு? “கைகொட்டிச் சிரிப்பார்கள்.. ஊரார் சிரிப்பார்கள்..”

இதைச் சொன்னாலும் வெட்கமடா! சொல்லாட்டாலும் வெட்கமடா என்பதுபோல தமிழ் இனவாத ஊடகங்கள் நாசூக்காக அவிப்பிராயங்களை வெளியிடுகின்றன. இந்த முறை ‘ஜனநாயகம்’ சரியாகப் பேணப்படவில்லை. அடுத்த முறை ஜனநாயக ரீதியில் தேர்தல் நடத்தப்படும் என்று அறிவிக்கின்றன. ஆக மீள் வாக்களிப்பு நடைபெறலாம். மீள் லொத்தர் இழுக்கப்படலாம்!

சிங்கள அரசாங்கங்கள் செய்த அத்தனை ஜனநாய அத்துமீறல்களுக்கும் சற்றும் சளைக்காமல் புலன் பெயர்ந்தவர்களின் தேர்தலும் நடைபெற்றிருக்கிறது. இதில் வேடிக்கை என்னவெனில் முடிவுகள் உத்தியோகப+ர்வமாக அறிவிக்கப்படவில்லை. வாக்காளரை தெரிவு செய்தாகி விட்டது. அடுத்தது என்ன? எங்களுடைய புலனும் பெயர்ந்துள்ளதால் அடுத்து என்ன ‘கமாடி’ வரும் என்ற ஆவலில் இருக்கிறோம். அதுபோக இது ஜனாதிபதி முறையிலான ஆட்சியா? அல்லது பிரதமர் முறையிலான ஆட்சியா? ஜனாதிபதியை அல்லது பிரதமரை எவ்வாறு தெரிவுசெய்வது போன்ற கலக்கத்தில் புலன்பெயர் மக்கள் தவிக்கிறார்கள்.

புலன்பெயர்ந்த தமிழர்களின் இந்த ஜனநாயக ரீதியான போட்டத்தை சர்வதேசம் மதிப்பளிக்க வேண்டும் என்று வின்சன் பல்கலைக் கழக பேராசிரியர், கவிஞர், ‘சரிநிகர்’ ஆசிரியர், பெண் உடல்மீது தீராக் காமம் கொண்ட முத்தமிழ் மன்னர்களில் ஒரு மன்னனுடைய பெயருடைய மன்னன் அறிவிக்கிறார். இவர் ‘நாடுகடந்த தமிழீழ அரசு’க்கான பத்திரிகையாளர் மகாநாடு மற்றும் கொள்கை விளக்கங்களை வழங்கி வருகிறார். இவர் தமிழை ஆராச்சி செய்வதாக சொல்லிக் கொண்டு கொழும்புக்கும் கனடாவுக்கும் பறந்து பறந்து திரிந்தவர் இப்போ ‘நாடு கடந்தது’க்காக ஐரோப்பா எங்கும் பறந்து திரிகிறார்.

மேலத்தேய நாடுகளில் அதுவும் கனடாவில் சும்மா இருந்து வாழ்கையை ஓட்டுவது மற்றும் கழியாட்டம், பெயர், புகழோடு வாழ வேண்டும் என்றால் ஒரேஒரு வழிதான் இருக்கிறது. மற்றவர்களை ஏமாற்றிப் பிழைப்பது. அது புலிகளுக்கு கைவந்த கலை. அந்த கலையின் சாரத்தை அலுங்காமல் குலுங்காமல் அப்படியே அள்ளிக்கொள்வது எல்லோராலும் முடியுமான காரியமல்ல. அது மேலே குறிப்பிட்ட சில பச்சோந்திகளால் மட்டுமே முடியும்.

‘நாடு கடந்த தமிழீழ அரசு’ என்பதே ஒரு பேய்காட்டு! அந்த பேய்காட்டுக்கு தெரிவு செய்யப்படுபவர்கள் அதவிடப் பேய்காட்டுகள்! இந்த பேய்காட்டுகளுக்கெல்லாம் பேய்காட்டு காட்டுபவன் மகா பேய்காட்டுக்காறன்! அவன் எப்படிப்பட்டவன் என்பதை சொல்லியா தெரியவேண்டும்? வற்றிய நதிகளெல்லாம் வற்றாத நதியப்பாத்து ஆறுதலடையும். அந்த நதியே காஞ்சுபோச்சுதென்டால்..! மக்கள் ஆண்டவனிடத்தில் ஆறுதலடைவார்கள். அந்த ஆண்டவனே கலங்கி நின்றால்..! சூசூசூ…. இப்பவே கண்ணைக்கட்டுதே!

உதவி செய்யாவிட்டாலும் உபத்திரவம் செய்யாதிருந்தாலே மகா புண்ணியம் என்பது நமமனுபவிக்கும் அன்றாடங்காட்சி. இவர்கள் நாடுகடந்த தமிழீழ அரசு என்பதை தூக்கிப் பிடிக்க ‘புலிகளின் புதிய இராணுவப் பிரிவொன்ற அமைக்கப்படு’வதாக இலங்கையின் பிரதமர் கூறுகிறார். இதெல்லாம் தேவைதான்? சரணடைந்த ஆயிரத்துக்கு மேற்பட்ட புலி உறுப்பினர்களின் புனர்வாழ்வு ப+ர்த்தியாகி இந்தா அந்தா விடுதலை செய்யப்படுவார்கள் என்றிருந்த நிலைமை தலைகீழாக மாற்றப்பட்டிருக்கிறது இந்த புண்ணியவால்களால்!

நெல்லியடி, பருத்தித்துறை பிரதான வீதியில் முன்னாள் புலிகளின் நிதி வசூலிப்பாளர் ஒருவர் இனம் தெரியாதோரால் கொல்லப்பட்டிருக்கிறார். இது ஒன்று போதும் சிங்களவனுக்கு வயித்தைக் கலக்க. தமிழ் இனவாத ஊடகங்கள் தங்களது வாயையும் –த்தையும் பொத்திக் கொள்வதைப் பாத்தால் நமக்கு வயித்த கலக்குது!

சனத்துக்கே தெரியும் இந்த பத்திரிகைக்காரனுக்கா தெரியாது? ஆனால் திரும்பவும் விட்ட இடத்துக்கே வந்து, ‘இனம்தெரியாதோரால் சுட்டுக் கொல்லப்பட்டார்’ என்று பத்திரிகைகள் எழுதத் தொடங்கினால் தமிழர்களின் தலையெழுத்தை யாரால் தான் மாற்ற முடியும்? சமூகப் பொறுப்புக்களற்ற இந்த சத்திராதிகள் தமிழர்களின் ‘தேசியம் – சுயநிர்ணயம் – தன்னாட்சி’ பற்றி வாய்கிளியக் கத்துகிறார்கள். கத்திக் கத்தியே மாரித் தவளைகள் மாதிரி சாகமாட்டார்கள் மற்றவர்களைதான் சாகடிப்பார்கள்! அதுசரி.. இவர்களெல்லாம் கண்ணை மூட நித்திரை வருதுதானே!!!!!!

OPINION: rajapaksa style development

2010-04-26T10:19:00.000-07:00

by Samanmalee Unanthenna

I apologise. Clearly I was wrong in my predictions regarding the new Rajapaksa cabinet in my earlier article. What I did not realise was that quite apart from an acute sense of survival and strong sense of family loyalty, our President has a dark sense of humour. How else would you explain appointing a former tuition master, Bandula Gunawardena, as the Minister of Education, Mervyn Silva as Deputy Minister of Media, and Wimal Weerawansa as Minister of Housing, Construction, Engineering and Public Utilities? Was it Weerawansa’s much publicised new house that qualified him for that particular portfolio? And the respect and concern that the President has for the media that he demonstrated with his appointment of Mervyn Silva?

Refreshing as an analysis of Presidential humour is, my objective in this article is to attempt an analysis of the President’s intentions for ‘development’ which we have been told repeatedly, is what we can expect in a ‘peaceful’ Sri Lanka under the Rajapakse regime. We have been told that development will deliver us from all the problems we have experienced and will be the means through which the wounds that have been inflicted over the past several years will be healed. Even before the elections, it was clear that that the Rajapakse regime believed in ‘big’ development. The new harbour, airport, highways, coal power projects, oil explorations and accelerated tourism programmes are all testaments to this. It is also clear that the President was not taking any chances with these sectors in his new cabinet: these have been mainly covered between himself and his brother Basil Rajapakse, and the appointment of three Deputy Ministers for Economic Development under Basil Rajapakse signifies the importance of this Ministry. The recent incorporation of the Urban Development Authority under the Ministry of Defence sends another clear signal about the intentions and priorities of the Rajapakse regime. Quite apart from the obvious potential for enrichment of the Rajapakse clan for generations to come and presumably of securing Namal’s future election campaign funds, what could a future of ‘big development’ under a totalitarian and corrupt regime mean?

‘Development’ is a highly contentious and controversial project. What it means, how effective it has been, who wins and who loses through development has been endlessly debated and discussed. While many questions remain unanswered, there is some consensus with regard to the drawbacks of ‘big development’ projects: most large scale development projects have been long term failures and apart from filling the pockets of the political elite, their supporters and development agencies, they have largely failed to deliver on their ambitious goals and objectives. More seriously, the environmental and social impacts of big development projects have been disastrous. The writings of those like Arundathi Roy, Vandana Shiva and others have highlighted some of the consequences of these projects for the environment, for food security and most of all for poor and marginalised communities.

One of the most tragic outcomes of these development projects has been the disruption and displacement experienced by local communities whose lifestyles and livelihoods are swept away to make way for highways, large scale energy and power projects, hotels, and big businesses. Anyone who is perceived to be in the way of development projects will be removed. The lifestlyles and livelihoods of local communities which are patronised as ‘traditional’ have no space within the ‘modernity’ that is promised by big development. The traditional within ‘big development’ become artifacts in museums.

The ‘modernity’ that is encapsulated in ‘big development’ places its faith in technology of a particular kind (the kind that is dependent on expensive and limited resources) and the market to deliver on its promises. And this faith has remained relatively unshaken despite all recent evidence that points to the dangers of such faith and dependency most notably environmental degradation, loss of food security, spiralling inequalities and unstable markets. This is largely due to the fact that those who suffer from these consequences are those who do not matter; those who in the words of the Italian philosopher Agamben, are reduced to ‘bare life’.

The fact that ‘big development’ is often the hallmark of authoritarian regimes is not a coincidence. Big development projects usually impose themselves on communities with an arrogant belief in their success and disregard for those whose are negatively impacted. Authoritarian regimes are particularly well placed to ignore and suppress local voices that are often raised to protect homes, communities, livelihoods and environments at risk in the face of big development. Authoritarian regimes are also able to crush revolts, bulldoze through homes and mobilise armies to defend the interests of the powerful and to suppress any negative publicity such projects might generate (Mervyn Silva’s appointment as Deputy Minister of Media and Information may not be just a joke after all). This is why organisations such as IMF, the World Bank, the ADB and even USAID have often turned a blind eye to authoritarian regimes; these are usually the donors behind most ‘big development’ projects. It is no coincidence that the Rajapakse regime reputedly has a very cordial relationship with the World Bank and with the Chinese government. Neither have a reputation for giving a voice to the marginalised.

And who in the decimated Opposition can give a voice to the marginalised at the moment? Certainly not the UNP; not only has it proved itself utterly incapable of raising a voice for anybody, its philosophy and vision would be in complete agreement with the development vision of the Rajapakse regime. Any UNP opposition would be motivated by a severe case of sour grapes and not from an understanding of the negative consequences of big development. Philosophically, the JVP is best placed to provide any political opposition to such schemes; we can only wait and see if they will do so. If the JVP is serious about representing the voice of the marginalised and the oppressed, it needs to understand and respond to the ways in which big development works within totalitarian regimes. Perhaps the ITAK has a role to play in this too although its position on broader issues concerning their constituents such as development as yet remains unknown.

Perhaps, US Assistant Secretary Richard Blake’s otherwise incomprehensible remark noting the defeat of hardline Sinhalese nationalist parties in the recent election has to be read in this context and is a signal of what we can expect from the international community in the future. Was this the US breathing a sigh of relief at the parliamentary setback for the potentially disruptive JVP? How else do we make sense of Richard Blake’s comment given that the most blatant Sinhala racists are on board the government bandwagon and not within the Opposition parties? And the fact that this election if anything has given hardline Sinhala racists carte blanche? If support for devolution is the only criteria for judging a more accommodating position with regard to minority communities, Richard Blake’s statement only confirms the international community’s inadequate understanding of the complexities of the Sri Lankan situation.

All the signals from the Rajapakse regime are clear. This is going to be the era of ‘big development’. And this means big bucks for those close to the regime, hardship for those who are not and displacement, disruption and misery for the powerless. It also means that the country will be dragged in the direction of unsustainable and unequal growth with serious repercussions for future generations as we have learnt from countless examples around the world. This will be the challenge we have to face in the future and we better be prepared to fight it.

26^th April 2010

வழிதவறிய செம்மறி........!

2010-04-19T00:56:00.000-07:00

- rjh. [P.

‘ijgpwe;jhy; topgpwf;Fk;’ vd;w ve;jf; fl;lhaKk; ,y;iy. Njh;jy; jpUtpoh ,dpNj epiwtile;jpUf;fpwJ. vjph;ghh;j;j KbTfSk; vjph;ghuhj my;yJ tpUk;ghj KbTfSk; ntspahfpd. ,dp ,yq;ifapd; Njrpa fl;Lkhdk; Fjpiu Ntfj;jpNyh fOij Ntfj;jpNyh Kd;Ndhf;fpr; nry;Yk;. Coy; - FLk;ghl;rp vd;w Nfh\q;fis kf;fs; fhjpy; Nghl;Lf;nfhs;stpy;iy. gapUf;F ghr;Rk; ePh; fisf;Fk; nfhQ;rk; RtWk; vd;gjpy; mth;fSf;F ve;j mf;fiwAkpy;iy.

ngUk;ghyhd kf;fs;> Njh;jiy Gwf;fzpj;Js;shh;fs;. fle;j Njh;jypYk; Fiwthd thf;FfisNa murhSk; fl;rp ngw;wpUf;fpwJ. vd;w Fuy;fs; njd;gFjpapy; xypf;fj;njhlq;fpAs;sd. kf;fSf;Fk; murpay;thjpfspd; kPJ ek;gpf;ifapy;iy vd;Wk; mjid mh;j;jg;gLj;jpf;nfhs;syhk;. tlf;F fpof;fpYk; thf;Fg;gjpT kpff; FiwthfNt eilngw;wpUf;fpwJ. Mdhy; mijg;gw;wp jkpo; fl;rpfs; myl;bf;nfhs;stpy;iy. fhuzk; kf;fs; jk;kPJ ek;gpf;ifaw;wpUf;fpwhh;fs; vd;w cz;ik ciwg;gjhNyh vd;dNth?

,jw;F Kd;dh; eilngw;w nghJj; Njh;jypy; aho; khtl;lj;jpy; mjp$ba tpUg;G thf;Ffisg; ngw;W Kjyhk; ,uz;lhk; ,lq;fisg; ngw;Wf;nfhz;l Fjpiuf; fN[e;jpud;> gj;jpdp rpjk;guehjd; MfpNahh; ntl;fpj; jiyFdpaNtz;bajpy;iy. ghuhSkd;w Xa;t+jpaj;ij khjkhjk; ngw;Wf;nfhz;L xJf;Fg;Gwkhf xJq;fNtz;baJjhd;. ,th;fisg; Nghd;Nwhh; kf;fshy; njhpTnra;ag;gl;lhh;fs; vd;W ,d;Wk; vOjpf;nfhz;bUf;fpwhh;fs;. ,J vt;tsT Kl;lhs;jdk;. Gypfspd; MAjg; gyj;jhy; njhpTnra;ag;gl;lhh;fs; vd;gijay;yth Mzpj;jukhf epWtpapUf;fpwJ.

,ijNa ‘jkpoh; tuyhw;wpy; jpUg;GKid’ vd;Wk; ‘mlf;FKiwapd; cr;rj;jpy;jhd; jkpoh;fs; MAjk; Ve;jpdhh;fs;’ vd;Wk; nfhOk;gpy; ikak;nfhz;Ls;s Nguhrhd;fs; ntl;fNk ,y;yyky; vOjpf;nfhz;bUf;fpwhh;fs;. MAjj;ij vq;ifah jkpoh;fs; J}f;fpdhh;fs;? jkpoh;fisay;yth MAjk; J}f;Nfh J}f;nfd;W J}f;fpr;RJ! cq;fSf;Fj;jhd; ‘Njrj;jpd; Fuy;’ vd;Nwh ‘Njrj;jpd; gpjh’ vd;Nwh gl;lj;ij nfhLg;ghd; vd;W vjph;ghh;j;jpUe;j jk;gp gukd; guNyhfk; Ngha;tpl;lhd;. ‘rptj;’Jf;F ehk; ‘Njrj;jpd; ghtk;’ vd;w gl;lj;ij kdKfe;J mspf;fpd;Nwhk;.

Gypg; ghrprk; Ks;sptha;f;fhypy; kz;bapl;lgpd;dh; rhfbf;fg;gl;lJNghy jkpo; ,dthjKk; ,j;Njh;jNyhL Njhw;fbf;fg;gl;bUf;f Ntz;Lk;. MdhYk; gidahs tpOe;Jk; nehz;bf;nfhz;L vOe;jpUf;fpwJ $j;jikg;G. ghrprj;ij rpjwbg;gJNghy mt;tsT rpukky;y ,e;j ,dthj rpy;yiwfis rpjwbg;gjw;F. vd;d khw;W murpy; jiyikfs;jhd; jahhpy;iy.

ele;JKbe;j nghJj; Njh;jypy; khw;W murpay; fl;rpfs; midj;Jk; Xuzpapy; epd;wpUe;jhy; $j;jikg;gpd; ghuhSkd;w mq;fj;Jtj;ij rhp miuthrpf;FfPo; Fiwj;jpUf;fyhk;. Klf;fpapUf;fyhk;. kl;lf;fsg;gpy; Kjiyikr;rh; gps;isahdpd; fl;rp If;fpa kf;fs; Rje;jpu Kd;dzpapy; Nghl;bapl;bUe;jhy; gps;isahdpd; fl;rpf;F xU ghuhSkd;wg; gpujpepj;Jtk; fpilg;gNjhL I.k.R.Kd;dzpapd; Mrdq;fSk; mjpfhpg;gjw;fhd tha;G epr;rak; Vw;gl;bUf;Fk;.

mNjNghyj;jhd; tTdpah khtl;lj;jpYk; Gnshl; I.k.R.Kd;dzpAld; Nghl;bapl;bUe;jhy; Gnshl;Lk; I.k.R.Kd;dzpAk; Mrdq;fisg; ngw;wpUf;f KbAk;. mt;thNw aho;. khtl;lj;jpYk; gj;kehgh - Gnshl; $l;L I.k.R.Kd;dzpAld; $l;Lr; Nrh;e;jpUf;f Ntz;Lk;. fpilj;jpUe;j mhpa re;jh;g;gj;ij jtwtpl;lJ kl;Lky;y jkpo; kf;fs; kPz;Lk; kPz;Lk; Vkhwg;gLtjw;Fk; ,e;j jkpo; jiyth;fNs fhuzkhfpd;wdh;. ,th;fs; $j;jikg;gpd; miog;ig vjph;ghh;j;jpUe;jhh;fNsh? ahkwpNahk; guhguNk!

,dpnahU tpjp nra;ag;NghtJk; ,y;iy ,th;fs;. mLj;jfl;lkhf tlf;F khfhzrig eilngwTs;sJ. ,Nj $j;ijj;jhd; ,e;j khw;W jiyikfs; ifahsg;Nghfpd;wd vd;gjpy; ve;jtpj re;NjfKk; ,y;iy. Gypg; ghrprj;Jf;F vjpuhf ifNfhh;j;J nraw;gl Kbahj ,th;fsh jkpo; ,dthj murpaYf;F vjpuhf xd;Wgl;L nraw;glg;Nghfpwhh;fs;? vd;gJ kdijf; File;Jnfhz;bUf;fpwJ> %is frq;fp ,uj;jk; frpe;Jnfhz;bUf;fpwJ.

‘thUq;fs; vd;Dld;> te;J Ntiy nra;Aq;fs;’ vd;W Nka;g;ghdhf mUStJ ele;jpUf;fpwJ. elf;fpwJ. elf;Fk;! ‘fle;j fhyj;jpy; ,g;gbj;jhd; mioj;J Vkhw;wpdhh;’ Vkhw;Wfpwhh;. Vkhw;Wthh; vd;W Mjq;fg;gLtJk; epahag+h;tkhdJjhd;.

,t;tstw;Wf;Fk; ,th;fs; vjph; vjph; murpay; nraw;ghLfspy; xUkpj;J kf;fis murpay; kag;gLj;Jtjw;F Gwg;gl;l Gul;rpf;fhuh;fs;. fhyNthl;lj;jpy; ,th;fs; gphpe;J> gphpf;fg;gl;L rpije;Js;sth;fs; kPz;Lk; xd;wpize;J fhyj;Jf;F Vw;w murpaiy Kd;ndLf;f tf;fpy;yhky; fz;zpUe;Jk; FUluha;! fhjpUe;Jk; nrtpluha;! kdkpUe;Jk; fQ;rdha;! gf;fh kpjthj murpay;fhuuha;apUf;fpd;wdh;.

ehq;fs; Kd;itg;gnjy;yhk; ‘Af Gul;rp’ia Vw;gLj;Jq;fs; vd;gjy;y. jkpo; ,dthj murpay; rf;jpfis Njhw;fbAq;fs; vd;gNj. mjw;F ePq;fs; midtUk; xd;Wgl;L xUkpj;Jg; gazpg;gNj xNunahU top.

ele;JKbe;j ghuhSkd;wj; Njh;jypy; jkpo; ,dthjpfspd; gpujpepj;Jtk; Fiwe;jpUe;jhYk; mth;fs;jhd; ghuhSkd;wj;jpy; $Ljyhd Mrdq;fis ngw;wpUf;fpwhh;fs;. murhq;fKk; $j;jikg;igNa gpujhdkhf Ngr;Rf;F miof;Fk;. rh;tNjr ehLfSk; mth;fSld; NgRkhW typAWj;Jk;. $j;jikg;Gf;F ‘rg;g Nkl;lh;’ ,ijnay;yhk; jl;bf;fopf;f. jkpo; ,dthjj;ij ff;FtJ vd;gJ fUk;G jpd;DtJNghd;wJ mth;fSf;F.

jkpo; ,dthj ghuhSkd;wg; gpujpepj;Jtk; jkpo; gFjpfspy; Neubahd jhf;fj;ij nghpastpy; Vw;gLj;jg;Nghtjpy;iy. ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fs; jj;jkJ tapw;iu Kbe;jtiu tsh;j;Jf;nfhs;syhk;. ntspehLfspy; cs;shrk; mDgtpf;fyhk; kw;Wk; gytpjkhdtw;iw mDgtpf;fyhk;!

Mdhy; khfhz rig vd;gJ tpN\rkhdJ. mJTk; tlf;F kw;Wk; fpof;F khfhz rigfSf;fhd tpN\r Njitfs; ,Uf;fpd;wd. tpN\rkhd NritfSk; Mw;wNtz;bapUf;fpwJ. eph;thfj;jpYk; epiwa NjitfSk; khw;wq;fSk; nra;a Ntz;bapUf;fpwJ. tpN\rkhf ,J kf;fSld; Neubahd njhlh;Gila eph;thfk;. ,jid ,e;j ,dthjpfspd; iffSf;F nry;ytpl;lhy; vd;dtpjkhd tpisTfis re;jpf;f Ntz;bNaw;gLk; vd;gij ,e;j khw;W murpay; rf;jpfs; rpe;jpf;f Ntz;Lk;.

jkpo; ,dthjpfspd; khfhzrig ntWk; gj;jphpif mwpf;iffspy;jhd; fhzKbAk;. fz;Zf;Fj; njhpe;Jk; njhpahj khfhzrigahfj;jhd; ,aq;Fk;. ,J ekf;Fj; Njitah?

vdNt khw;Wj; jiyikfs; kw;wth;fspd; Fw;wq;fis ifNahL vLj;Jr; nry;yhky; jkf;Fs;spUf;Fk; kdpjNeaj;Jld; el;Gld; tpl;Lf;nfhLg;Gld; fye;Jiuahb khfhzrigiaahtJ jkpo; ,dthjpfspd; iffSf;Fr; nrd;Wtplhjgb ghh;j;Jf;nfhs;s Ntz;Lk;. mjw;F Gyd;ngah;e;J thOk; ,e;j jiyth;fspd; tpRthrpfs; nghj;jpf;nfhz;bUf;f Ntz;Lk;.

,e;j re;jh;g;gj;ijiAk; ifeOttpl;lhy; ‘,jpYk;ghh;f;f Gypfs; guthapy;iy’ vd;W rpe;jpf;Fk; epiyf;F kf;fisj; js;sptplf;$lhJ vd;gNj vkJ Ntz;LNfhs;.

,yq;ifapd; ,U gpujhd fl;rpfshd tyJ my;yJ ,lJrhhp rhh;Gila murpay; rf;jpfSld; ,ize;Jjhd; rpWghd;ik kw;Wk; rpwpa fl;rpfs; jkJ murpay; nraw;ghLfis Kd;ndLj;Jr; nry;yNtz;ba epiy jtph;f;fKbahjgb Njhd;wpapUf;fpwJ. mjdhy;jhd; ngUk;ghyhd jkpo; K];yPk; fl;rpfs; ngUk;ghd;ik fl;rpfSld; ,ize;J Njh;jiyr; re;jpf;fpd;wd. %d;whtJ nghpa rf;jpahf jd;idj; jhNd cUtfpj;Jf;nfhz;l N[.tp.gp Ie;Nj Ie;J ghuhSkd;w Mrdq;fisg; ngw;W gLNjhy;tp mile;jpUf;fpwJ. mJTk; n[duiy Kd;epWj;jpj;jhd; ngw;wpUf;fpwJ. mg;gbapUf;f J}a;ikthjk; thjj;Jf;F ed;whfj;jhd; ,Uf;Fk;. eilKiwf;F ‘Vl;Lr; Riuf;fha’ahfj;jhd; ,Uf;Fk;.

topjtwpa nrk;kwpahl;il jpUj;Jtjw;F ehnkhd;Wk; N[RehjUky;y> topjtWtjw;F ,th;fs; xd;Wk; nrk;kwpaSky;y!

A poem by Kumari Gamage

2010-04-07T01:07:00.000-07:00

—fï n,kak

¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡

fï bkafk wïud

¥, ;=kafokd"

mq;d

¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡

tyd me;af;a bkakd

flkd

wïuïud

¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡˜

—whsfhda æ

fï n,kak

fï wïudf.

ll=,la kE fkao@˜

—yaï¡¡¡¡ ˜

— ta jqkdg

yefudau yskdfõf.k

bkafk yß i;=áka ¡¡¡¡

fudlo ta ˜

—tfyu ;uhs

mska;+r .ksoaÈ

Ôj;a fjkjg

jvd

yß fjkila

wdihs

yefudau;a

fudlo ta

okafk kE

uu;a ˜

—t;fldg¡¡¡¡

fudlo fï fmdä tld

w; álla yx.f.k˜

—ta fudlo okakjo

¡¡¡¡

leu;su kE thd

fldg w;a lE,a,

fmkakkak

úfYaIfhka

mska;+rj,g˜

—xwd

t;fldg

wïuf. ol=kq ll=, kE

mq;df. ol=kq w; kE@ ˜

—tfyu ;uhs hqoafo yeá˜

—fl,af,d ;=kafokd kï

fyd`Èka bkakj fkao@˜

—tfyuhs

fmfkkakg

ta jqkdg

fï fl,a,

fï bkafk fmdähg

mjqf,a fofjkshd

fmdähs fkao yefudagu

;sfhkj¨ thdf.;a

fI,a lE,s uy yq`.la

T¿fj;a

yeu;ek;a

wudre¨ tajd

.kak kï t

—t;fldg ta

kE jevla¡¡¡¡

lula kE

fl,af,d fokafklaj;a

b;=rehsfk fyd`Èka¡¡¡¡

,efnkjo Wkag

wvq.dfk bf.k .kakg˜

—tajkï fldfyduo

okafk

bkakjdkï Wv

ta fohsfhd ú;ruhs

wmsg tajd

fydhkak;a ;ykï

lshkak;a ;ykï

fyõjdo

lsõjdo

lsh,;a

we;sfõo

M,hla@˜

—t;fldg

flda fï mjqf, ;d;a;d@

ke;=jdo ;d;af;la@˜

—ke;=j ;d;af;la

fldfyduo

ta;a ±ka thd kE

.sh njla

thdj;a okafk kE˜

—wEæ

;d;a;d ueß,o@

fldfyduo t;fldg

ll=,l=;a ke;s

fï ;reK wïud

n,d.kafk fï

úfYaIfhka fï

;reK fl,a,kaj¡¡¡¡ ˜

—taj;a b;ska

okafka

ta fohsfhdu ;uhs

wks;a tl

±k.;a;;a yeful

wms fudkd lrkako@

fyõjhs lsh,j;a

lsõjhs lsh,j;a

we;s jevla ;sfhkjo

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

wka;su ldf, kï

j;=r álla fndkakj;a

nxlfrka t

tkaku neßjqkd

neßu ;ek wd whg

Ôú;h ke;sjqkd

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

fï mjq,

ysáhd¨

.=,sfj,d

nxlf¾

neßu ;ek

fj,djl

lSjd¨

wmamd

zuqx uefrhs yduf;a

le`o álla yod.uqZ

;snqkd¨ t;fldg;a

wßis tl fld;a;=jla

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

fI,a jeà .sks je§

ksYap,jq fj,djl

yeÿjd¨ wïud

tl lxð uqÜáhla

¡¡¡¡¡¡

yks yksl

mek msgg

.yla hg

ys`o jgg¡¡¡¡

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

tlmdrgu

jegqkd¨

ueogu

msmqrejd¨

jfÜgu

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

Zwïud wïud

w; uf.a ke;sfj,dZ

lE .ymq fld,a,d

n,kakg

ke.sákak yokfldg

wehs jegqfk n,kfldg

ll=,la ke;sfj,d

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

Ztahs fï n,kakfld

fld,a,df. w; kE

uf. fï ll=, kE

ke.sg,d n,kakfld

fl,af,d ál fyd`Èka±hs

wfka ±ka lshkakfldZ

kE ta;a fi,jqula

;shd ye, fyd,aukla

t;fldg¨ okafka

ldgo lshkafka

thdkï .sys,a,d

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

Wka fufya ;ksfj,d

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

,la tlla ;snqkq wh

fírekd

w;a ll=,a ke;s jqk;a˜

—ta b;ska ,la tlo@˜

—uerefk ke;s yeu flfkla

,la tlla ;snqk wh

w;" mhla ke;s jqk;a

weia folu ke;s jqk;a

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

ys;=fj kï tfyuhs

yq`.la wh ¡¡¡¡¡¡

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

ÿIalr ls%hd fldg

.e,ú,d hka;ug

ke;sj lsisjlau uqjdjg

wdjdg

i;a ihqre ;rKh fldg

i;a mjqre miqfldg

mshjfrka mshjru .dg .dg

wdjdg

ke.=kq .sks ksjkakg

iekys,s jokla wikakg

fiõjdg

me;=jdg

ysi fiñka w;.d ikykag

lsisfjla

ke;=jqfka wfma lrefug

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

t;fldg

glrx jy,hg

glrx y;rjg

úhre jQ br hg

ld fkdlE .dkg

Ôúf;a f.jqkdg

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

yaï¡¡¡¡¡¡

±ka b;ska wmsg

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡˜

—b;ska

±ka b;ska

fudllao Th lshkakg

yokafka fkdlSjg¡¡@˜

—kE b;ska

±kakï fï wh;a

lshkj fkdlSj;a

ysáhkï kEú;a

t;ku;a

tfyuu;a

—fudlla @

fudllao ta l;dj @

i;=gq jkq fkdyelsjo

orkakg fkdyelsjo

ú`Èkakg fkdyelsjo

lrkjd uÈjdo

lshkjd uÈjdo

ys;kjd uÈjdo

lsïo @

fl;rï ie,l=ïo

fidhkakg n,kakg fldf;la wh wdjdo

wikakg foikakg fkdtk wh ljqrekao

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡@˜

—ysrhla lrdf.k

ore u,af,d yodf.k

l=,s u,S fydhdf.k

fmdf

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

fohshkag lshdf.k

meñKs ÿla fnodf.k

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

uy fmdf

br wõj oreKqhs

jeys jegqfk f.ä jf.hs

ñksiaiq;a tfyuuhs

ÿgqjdu oreKqhs

we;=,;ska iS;,hs

cSúf;a wudrehs

ta jqk;a iqkaorhs˜

—b;ska@

fudllao tfykï m%Yafk@˜

—±ka ta yefulla

muKhs ñheÿkq w;S;hla

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traitor

2010-04-03T03:58:00.000-07:00

By Shobasakthi

Translated By Anushiya Ramaswamy

'As I live my days locked up in a wretched prison in this frozen country, I start to write the story of my beloved child, Nirami. The story begins with the birth of God.’

Nirami, Nesakumaran’s fourteen-year-old daughter, is awaiting her abortion in the hospital room of an unnamed European city; she refuses to name her rapist.

Nesakumaran’s narrative begins in 1980s Sri Lanka when, radicalized by the dream of Tamil Eelam, he abandons his seminary studies. A bungling terrorist, botching up one task after another, Nesakumaran is in no way a genuine threat. But once he has entered the system as a suspect he can never find a way out of the maze of interrogation chambers, army camps and regional prisons. What follows is a surreal account of torture, which culminates in the extremely brutal massacre of Tamil prisoners by the Sinhalese inmates in the Welikade prison in 1983, and also, the revelation of Nirami’s rapist.

A stark rhetoric of torture, pain and black humour, Traitor, through its pathologically damaged protagonist, gives voice to the testimonies of millions of refugees of a war-ravaged land.

Book Reviews
'an authentic voice' - Outlook
'playful and sardonic...unusually inventive' - Time out

Published by: Penguin Books India
Published: 15- Apr- 2010

கூத்தமைப்பும் பவுணு விடுவதெல்லாம் கவுணு, ஆத்தாடி அம்மாடி டவுணு!

2010-03-26T04:13:00.000-07:00

- rjh. [P.

‘nfhy;gtd; nty;thd;’ – jahhpg;G: jkpoPok;. ,J xU fhyj;jpy; Gypfs; jahhpj;j ntbnghUspy; vOjg;gl;bUe;jJ kl;Lky;y NtYg;gps;isd;u ngbad; xt;nthU nehbAk; jdf;Fj;jhNd nrhy;ypf;nfhz;lJk; Gyp cWg;gpdh;fspd; neQ;rpy; vOjpaJkhFk;. ,ij mbikg;gl;l Gj;jp[Ptpfs;> jkpo; Clfq;fs; gug;gpdhh; epahag;gLj;jpdh.;

,g;Ngh ngbad;u ,lj;ij rk;ge;jd; FO gpbj;Jf;nfhz;Ls;sJ. ‘jkpo;NgRk; kf;fSila mgpyhirfis g+h;j;jp nra;af;$ba ePjpahdJk; epahakhdJkhd epue;ju murpay; jPH;T te;Nj MFk;. ehk; vtUf;Fk; mbikahf mbgzpe;J tho Ntz;baJ mtrpakpy;iy. [dhjpgjp ve;jj; jkpo;j; jiytUld; murpay; jPh;T Fwpj;J Ngr;Rthh;j;ij elj;j Ntz;Lk; vd;gij tlf;F> fpof;F jkpo; kf;fs; vjph;tUk; nghJj; Njh;jypy; cWjpahfj; njhptpg;ghh;fs;’ vd;W rz;bah; rk;ge;jdpd; rz;bj;jdk;.

murpay; jPh;T Fwpj;J [dhjpgjpAldhd Ngr;Rthh;j;ijapy; jhk; fye;Jnfhs;s nfhs;s Ntz;Lk; vd;W Mirg;gltpy;iy rk;ge;jh;. ‘jhNk’ mjhtJ jhk; kl;LNk Ngr;Rthh;j;ijapy;

xw;Wikapd;ikiaf; Fiwj;J jkpo; gpujpepj;Jtj;ij Fiwj;Jf;nfhs;sf;$lhJ vd;WNtW mhpa fz;Lgpbg;igNtW nrhy;ypf;nfhs;fpwhh;fs;. mJ vg;gb vd;W mth;fisNa Nfl;fNtz;Lk;. jkpo; gpujpepj;Jtky;y> $j;jikg;gpd; gpujpepj;Jtk; Fiwe;J rpj;njWk;ghfg; NghfpwJ. njhFjpthhpahf vj;jid ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fs; vd;W jPh;khdpf;fg;gl;Ls;sJ. me;j ghuhSkd;w Mrdk; ahh; $Ljyhd thf;Ffisg; ngw;Wf;nfhs;fpwhh;fNsh mth;fSf;F toq;fg;gLk;. ,k;Kiw gd;Kfg;gl;l jkpo; gpujpepj;Jtk; njhpthFk;. ,jpy; vg;gb jkpo; gpujpepj;Jtk; Fiwe;JtpLk;. $j;jikg;gpd; mth vd;dntd;why; jhk; kl;LNk ghuhSkd;wk; nry;yNtz;Lk;. xw;Wikahf midj;J trjp tha;g;Gf;fisAk; jhNk ms;spf;nfhs;s Ntz;Lk; vd;w cah;e;j ey;Nehf;fk;!

mijtpLj;J jkpo; kf;fspd; murpay; jPh;T gw;wpg; NgRthjhf ,Ue;jhy; vg;NghNjh Ngr;Rthh;j;ijapy; [dhjpgjpAld; Ngr;Rthh;j;ijapy;

rz;bah; Rliyf;Fg; Nghfpw topiaj; njhpe;Jnfhs;fpw Ntisapy; kdpjDf;F tho Ntz;Lk; vd;w Miriaf; fhl;bYk; ‘ms;s’ Ntz;Lk; vd;w Nguhiria vd;dntd;W nrhy;tJ?

fle;j Mwhz;L fhykhf $j;jikg;G ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fs; 22 NgUk; vd;d nra;jhh;fs; vd;gJ nts;spil kiy. ,th;fs; Mapuj;njl;L tpsf;fq;fq;fisAk; Kof;fq;fisAk; ntspapl;lhYk; mjidg; gFg;gha;T nra;fpd;w gf;Ftk;> nghJg;Gj;jp ekf;Fj; Njit.

jkpo; gpuNjrq;fis Mf;fpukpf;fpwhd;. rpq;fs FbNaw;wk; - Gj;j tpfhiuiaf; fl;Lfpwhd;. jkpo; nkhop Gwf;fzpf;fg;gLfpwJ vd;gnjy;yhk; cz;ik. Mdhy; ,jw;fhd thjq;fSk; epahaq;fSk; vjph;jug;gpy; ,Uf;fpwJ mjid kWg;gjw;fpy;iy. ‘jf;fd gpiof;Fk;’ vd;w tpQ;Qhdj;ij tpLtk;. ,e;j $j;jikg;gpdhpdhy; vd;d nra;a KbAk;? Mdhdg;gl;l mkph;jypq;fk; ehl;bd; vjph;fl;rpj; jiytuhf ,Ue;J vd;dj;ij fpspf;f Kbe;jJ. ntspehl;by;jhd; tho Kbe;jJ. nfhOk;Gf;F te;J tho;it Kbf;fNtz;bNaw;gl;lJ.

,e;j nghJg;Gj;jp ekf;Fg; gpbglhtpl;lhy; rhjhuzkhf Nahrpj;jhy;> ,e;j 22 NgUk; fle;j Mwhz;L fhyk; ghuhSkd;wj;ij myq;fhpj;jdh;. mjw;fhd nfhOj;j Xa;t+jpak; fpilf;Fk;. ,jw;F NkyhfTk; Ntz;Lk; vd;w mlk;gpbj;jhy; vg;gb? NtW 22 Ngh; ghuhSkd;wk; Ngha; mth;fSk; jq;fs; kidtp gps;isfspd; vjph;fhyj;Jf;F toprikj;J nfhQ;rk; nrhj;J Nrh;f;fl;LNk! ,J xU rhjhuz Gj;jp. epahakhd Gj;jp jhNd!

,dp cz;ikahd mf;fiwNahL rpe;jpg;Nghkhdhy;> ,yq;if ,dg;gpur;rpidiag; nghWj;jtiuapy; nra;aijf;fhl;bYk; nrhy;tJ vspJ. Kjyhtjhf ,yq;if xU rpwpa ehL. gy;ypdq;fs;> kjq;fs;> gy fyhrhuq;fisf; nfhz;l ehL. gy Kuz;ghLfSf;F kj;jpapYk; ehk; If;fpaj;ijg; NgzNtz;Lk; vd;gNj ajhh;j;jk;. murpay; nghUshjhu fyhrhu mgptpUj;jp ntFthf rPh;Fiye;Js;sJ. nghJkf;fspd; murpay; ghpzhkKk; rkepiyapy; ,y;yhjpUf;fpd;wJ.

,e;epiyapy; ,dg;gpur;rpidf;F Nkyhf ,yq;ifapd; Njrpa epiyikia ftdj;jpy; nfhs;s Ntz;Lk;. murpay; jiyth;fs; jdJ kf;fspd; murpay; rpj;jhe;jf; fy;tpapd; kPJ mjpf ftdk; nrYj;jNtz;Lk;. fl;rp> mur Copah;fspd; Coy;> yQ;rk; ngwy; Mfpa gy;NtWgl;l gpur;rpidisj; jPh;g;gjw;F ehk; midtUk; ,ize;J gzpahw;w Ntz;Lk;. ,jw;F ePz;l fhyk; vLf;Fk; vd;gJ kl;Lky;y gy Kuz;ghLfs; ntbg;Gf;fs; epfOk;. ehk; ‘kdpjk;’ vd;fpw cahpa rpe;jidia cah;j;jpg; gpbg;Nghkhdhy; Kuz;ghLfnsy;yhk; fhy; J}Rf;Fg; ngwhJ.

,dk; fle;J> nkhop fle;J> kjk; fle;J> rhjp fle;J> fyhrhuk; fle;J ehk; ,ize;J gzpahw;WtNj murpay; rPh;jpUj;jj;Jf;F cUg;gbahd gbf;fw;fs;.

ntWk; czh;r;rp ,dthjg; Ngr;Rf;fshy; Vw;gl;l cl;rz;ilfs; ,yl;rf;fzf;fhd caph;fis gypapLtijAk; gyNfhb ngWkjpahd nghUshjhuj;ij mopj;jijAk; jdpg;gl;lth;fspd; kdijg; Gz;gLj;jpaijj; jtpu Ntnwd;d? ,e;j ,dthjg; Nghf;Ffspy; ,Ue;J jg;gpg; gpioj;jypd; ajhh;j;j epiy gaq;fukhdJ. ehd; rpwe;jtd; vd;gJ rhp. ehd;jhd; rpwe;jtd; vd;gJ ve;jtifapy; epahakhdJ? ,J gpw kdpjh;fis ,opTf;Fl;gLj;Jk; nrayy;yth?

,yq;ifj; jkpoh;fisg; nghWj;jtiuapy; NghJkhd gy f\;lq;fs; cs;sd. ,J Nghjhnjd;W ,dthjk; NgRk; jkpo; fl;rpfs; murapy; jPh;it ehNk ngw;wj; jUNthk; vd;Wk; ahUf;Fk; Nrhuk; Nghfkhl;Nlhk; vd;Wk; rk\;b xd;Wk; NgAky;y gprhRky;y vd;W kf;fis tijj;njLg;gJ Ntjidaspf;fpwJ.

r%fg; ngWkjpahd rpe;jidfis Kd;itf;fj; jpuhzpaw;wth;fs; ,th;fs; vd;gij jkpo; kf;fs; ,dk;fhzNtz;Lk;. ngUk;ghyhd jkpo; Clfq;fSk; ,e;j jpf;fw;wth;fspd; ntw;Wg; Ngr;Rf;fisNa ek;gp gpiog;G elj;Jfpwhh;fs;. ,jdhy; r%fg; ngWkjpahd rpe;jidfs; kf;fSf;Fg; Ngha;r; Nrh;tjpy;iy.

MdhYk; kf;fs; jkJk; jk; re;jjpapdJk; vjph;fhyj;ij ftdj;jpy; nfhz;L nrayhw;Wk; jUzk; ,J. ntWk; czh;r;rpfSf;F mbikg;gl;Ltplhky; tpopg;Gld; ,Uf;f Ntz;Lk;. r%fg; ngWkjpahd rpe;jidfs; vit vd;gij ,dk; fhzNtz;Lk;. mjid Kd;itg;gth;fs; vth; vd;gij milahsk; fhzNtz;Lk;. mt;thwhd r%fg; gpuQ;idAs;sth;fis jkJ gpujpepjpfshf Njh;e;njLj;J tskhd r%fj;ij fl;baikf;f Ntz;Lk;.

gpufhrkhd vjph;fhyj;ij cz;ikapy; tpUk;Gk; midtUk; ,e;jg; gpur;rpidfspd; kPJ topg;ghf ,Uf;f Ntz;Lk;.

அதி அற்புதமான தந்திரங்களால் நோ்ந்திருக்கிற வேதனைகளையும் அழிவையும் பற்றி.....

2010-03-10T02:25:00.000-08:00

rjh. [P.

ahid ,Ue;jhYk; Mapuk; nrj;jhYk; Mapuk;. Mdhy; jw;Nghija Gypfs; ,Ue;jhYk; xd;Wjhd;> nrj;jhYk; xd;Wjhd;!

ey;ytd; tho;thd; vd;gjy;y tho;gNd ey;ytd;! tha;ik nty;Yk; my;y> nty;YtNj tha;ik! nkd;NkYk; jd;dyj;jpy;> jdpepiwtpy; $br;nry;tJk;> kpFe;J nry;tJk; myl;bf;nfhs;shkNy midj;ijAk; jdf;Fr; rhjfk; Mf;FjYNk ngUk;ghyhd murpay;thjpfspd; epiyg;ghL. nrytplhky; Nrkpj;Jk;> mjpfhpj;Jk; nry;tNj mth;fspd; ngUtho;T. kfh jpwik!

‘jkpo; Njrpak;’ ek;ikr; Rw;wpAk; ekf;Fs;Sk; - ehk; mwpe;Jk; mwpahkYk; Mjpf;f epiyf;F tsh;e;Js;sJ. ,jid Muk;gKjNy el;L tsh;j;jth;fs; jkpo; kpjthjf; fl;rpfs;. ,jw;F ,isQh;fspd; Atjpfspd; rpWth; rpWkpfspd; jkpo; kf;fspd; vd;igAk; rijAk; cukhf ,l;L> ,uj;jj;ij jhiuthh;j;J ‘jkpo; ,dthj’khf ‘jkpo; ghrpr’khf khw;wpa ngUik GypfisAk; Gypfspd; Neub kw;Wk; kiwKf gpdhkpfisNa rhUk;.

,d;Wk; jkpo; ,dthj gpzj;ijNa $j;jikg;G fhtpf;nfhz;L jphpfpwJ. Gz;izf;fhl;b thf;F vLg;gjpYk; gpzj;ijf; fhl;b vLg;gJ nrytplhky; Nrkpg;gjw;Fk; mjpfhpj;Jr; nry;tjw;Fkhd xNunahU top.

kPz;Lk; kPz;Lk; rk;ke;ju;iu nfhy;iyf;Fs;Ns vd;gjhf $j;jikg;gpd; ,dg;gpur;rpidf;fhd jPh;T. 2002k; Mz;L Kd;dhs; uzpy; murhq;fj;Jf;Fk; Kw;whf mopf;fg;gl;Ltpl;l tpLjiyg; GypfSf;Fk; ,ilapy; nra;Jnfhs;sg;gl;l ‘x];Nyh’ gpufldj;jpd; mbg;gilapy; murpay; jPh;Tj; jpl;lj;ij jahhpj;Js;sjhfTk; ghuhSkd;w Njh;jypy; Njh;e;njLf;fg;gLk; $l;likg;gpd; cWg;gpdh;fs; ,j;jpl;lk; Fwpj;J Muha;e;J jPh;khdj;ij vLf;fyhk; vd;w $wpAs;s rk;ge;jh;> (,q;Nf ehLflj;jg;gl;l jkpoPo muir mikf;fg;Nghtjhf GYlhtpl;Lf;nfhz;L jphpgth;fspd; ,izg;ghsuhd cUj;jpuFkhh; kf;fspd; Miziag; ngw;wth;fs; jkpoPoj;Jf;fhd ahg;ig tiuthh;fs; vd;W $wpapUg;gij ftdpf;fNtz;Lk;. ,UtUk; rkfhyg;gFjpapNyNa ,jid mwptpj;Js;sdh;) cs;sf Raeph;za chpikAld; rhpj;jpu hPjpahf jkpo; NgRk; kf;fs; tho;e;J te;Js;s jhafj;jpy; xUkpj;j ehl;bw;Fs; rk;\;b murikg;gpyhd Ml;rp Kiw mika Ntz;Lk; vd;W x];Nyh gpufldk; $WfpwJ.

X];Nyh gpufldk; mbg;gilapy; murpay; jPh;Tj; jpl;lk; jahhpf;fg;gl;l NghJ mjw;F fN[e;jpuFkhh; nghd;dk;gyk; ‘,UehLfs;> xU Njrk;’ vd;w Nfhl;ghl;bd; mbg;gilapy; murpay; jPh;Tj; jpl;lk; mika Ntz;Lk; vd;W Nfhhpdhh;. ,e;j ,lj;jpy;jhd; $l;likg;Gf;Fs; Kuz;ghL Vw;gl;lJ. tl;Lf;Nfhl;il gpufldk;> jpk;G gpufldk;> kq;fs Kdrpq;f mwpf;if> ,yq;if - ,e;jpa cld;gbf;if kw;wk; re;jphpfh muR Kd;itj;j murpay; jPh;T Nahrid Mfpad ,U jug;gpduhYk; Vw;Wf;nfhs;sg;glhjit. xU gf;fr; rhh;ghditahFk;.

Mdhy; 2002 brk;ghpy; Nehh;Nt x];Nyhtpy; ntspaplg;gl;l gpufldk; ,yq;if murhq;fj;jpdhYk; jkpoPo tpLjjiyg; Gypfs; ,af;fjpdhYk; vw;Wf;nfhs;sg;gl;lnjhd;whFk;. mjd; mbg;gilapNyjhd; jkpo; Njrpaf; $l;likg;G vjw;Fk; jahuhf murpay; jPh;Tj; jpl;lk; xd;iwj; jahhpj;Jj; jahuhf itj;jpUf;fpwJ vd;W rk;ge;jh; $wpapUf;fpwhh;.

ngUk;ghd;ikapdh; kj;jpapy; gdq;fhl;L Fs;s ehpahf N[.Mh; ,Ue;jhNu mNjNghyj;jhd; rpWghd;ikapdh; kj;jpapy; rk;ke;jh;. Kd;dth; Vfhjpgj;jpaj;Jf;F ,yq;ifia jhiuthh;j;Jf;nfhLj;jth; vd;why; gpd;dth; a+vd;gpf;F jkpo; kf;fspd; tho;ehis jhiuthh;j;Jf;nfhLj;jth;.

murpay; jPh;tpid jkpo; kf;fs; jPh;khdpf;f KbahJ vd;gNj rk;ke;jh; epiyg;ghL. Vnddpy; ,y;yhj GypfSk; jw;NghJ Ml;rpapy; ,y;yhj a+vd;gpAk; xj;Jf;nfhz;l murpay; jPh;T jpl;lj;jpidNa Vw;Wf;nfhz;bUf;fpwhh; rk;ge;jh;. ,J ntWkNd thf;Ffis kl;Lk; Fwpitf;fg;gl;l rpj;Jtpisahl;ly;y.

x];Nyh gpufldj;Jf;F Kd;dh; re;jphpfh muR Kd;itj;j murpay; jPh;T NahridAk; ,yq;if - ,e;jpa cld;gbf;ifAk; $j;jikg;igg; nghWj;jtiu Kf;fpakhfg;gltpy;iy. fhuzk; Gypfshy; Xuk;fl;lg;gl;lit vd;gjhyh?

Mdhy; re;jphpfh muR Kd;itj;j murpay; jPh;T Nahrid ngUk;ghyhd jkpo; - rpq;fs – K];yPk; Gj;jp[Ptpfshy;> murpay; Ma;thsh;fshy; rpyhfpf;fg;gl;lJ. ,d;Wk; jkpo; kf;fs; kj;jpapy; mjd; cz;ikj;jd;ik vLj;J ,ak;gg;gLkhdhy; jkpo; - K];yPk; kf;fspd; KO mq;fPfhuj;ijAk; ngwKbAk;. ,jd; fhuzkhfNtjhd; rpq;fs - jkpo; ,dthjpfs; xw;Wikahf ifNfhh;j;Jf;nfhz;L ghuhSkd;wj;jpy; mjid vhpa+l;bdh;. re;jphpfh muR kPJk; re;jphpfh kPJk; NrWg+Rk; ifq;fhpaj;ij mtru mtrukhf ntw;wpfukhf Nkw;nfhz;ldh;. ,d;Wk; jkpo; kpjthj murpay;thjpfSk; mth;jk; mbtUbfSf;Fk; re;jphpfh kPJ ,Uf;Fk; fho;g;Gzh;T$l N[.Mhpd; kPJ ,y;iy. ,yq;if tuyhw;wpy; rpWghd;ik kPJ fl;ltpo;j;Jtpl;l ,dRj;jpfhpg;Gk; mopg;Gk; N[.Mhpd; fhyj;jpNyNa cr;repiyapy; ,Ue;jJ vd;gij ,q;F Rl;bf;fhl;LtJ jFk;.

,yq;if - ,e;jpa cld;gbf;if jkpoh;fSf;F fpilj;Jk; fpilfhfhj tug;gpujhrk;. mjw;F Fwpg;gplj;jf;f tlf;F fpof;F kf;fspd; MjuTk; fpilj;jpUe;jJ. tlf;F fpof;F khfhz rigapd; eph;thfk; g+r;rpaj;jpypUe;J xt;nthU nrq;fy;yhf fl;bnaOg;gg;gl;lJ. ,d;Wk; tlf;F fpof;F gphpf;fg;gl;lhYk; khfhz rig muR ,aq;Ffpd;wd. tlf;F khfhzrigf;F murhq;fk; njhpT nra;ag;gltpy;iyahapDk; fpof;F khfhzrigf;F jw;NghJ murhq;fk; njhpTnra;ag;gl;bUf;fpwJ. nghJj; Njh;jypd; gpd; tlf;F khfhzrig murhq;fk;> tlf;F kf;fshy; njhpTnra;ag;glg;Nghfpwhh;fs; vd;gJ epjh;rdk;. ,t;thwhd fUj;Jf;fis Kd;itg;gjd; %yk; ,th;fs; murhq;f rhh;ghdth;fs; vd;Nwh murhq;f rhh;ghdth;fspd; rhh;ghdth;fs; vd;W jl;bf;fopg;gth;fsplk; xNuxU tpz;zg;gk;.

jkpo;r; r%fk; jdJ cz;ikahd rhj;jpaq;fspypUe;J me;epag;gl;Ls;sJ. tho;T> ,d;gk; ,tw;iwj; NjLtijg;NghyNt rhitAk; mopitAk; Njbr;nry;Yk; jkpo;r; r%fj;ij Fiwe;jgl;r rhj;jpaq;fSf;F ,l;Lr;nry;tJk; Fiwe;jgl;r mbg;gilahd tho;T> ,d;gk; Mfpatw;iw Vw;gLj;jpf;nfhs;Sk; Kaw;rpNa ekJ. Raeph;zak;> cs;sf Raeph;zak; vd;w ,e;jg; gaq;fu jphpG Muhf;fpakw;w jkpo;r; r%jhaj;ijNa cUthf;fpapUf;fpwJ. mjp mw;Gjkhd je;jpuq;fshy; Neh;e;jpUf;fpw NtjidiaAk; mopitAk; gw;wpNa ehk; KOf;ftdj;ijAk; nrYj;JfpNwhk;.

kpjthj murpay; fl;rpfs; Fwpg;ghf jkpo; kpjthj murpay; fl;rpfs; nkd;NkYk; jd;dyj;jpy;> jdpepiwtpy; $br;nry;tJk;> kpFe;J nry;tJk; myl;bf;nfhs;shkNy midj;ijAk; jdf;Fr; rhjfk; Mf;FjYNk! mjw;fhf ,th;fs; jkf;Fk; jk;ikr; rhh;e;jth;fSf;Fk; Fiwe;jgl;r nfLjy; ,y;yhky; vjidAk; nra;aj; jahuhfptpLfpd;wdh;.

‘,d;ndhU kdpjd; kPJ nfhs;Sk; KOikahd Mjpf;f czh;T’ rhbrj;jpd; rhuk; vd;W vhpf; /gpuhk; tiuaWf;fpwhh;. me;j egiu ek; kd cWjpf;F Kw;whff; fPo;g;gLj;jp – mtd; kPJ KOikahd Mjpf;fk; nra;J – mtDf;F jhd; flTshjyhf ,jid tpsf;Ffpwhh;. jw;NghJ jkpoh;fSf;F jhd;jhd; flTs; vd;gij epiyehl;lNt mtuth; Kz;babf;fpd;wdh;. ,jpy; Kjd;iktfpg;gJ jw;Nghija Gypf; $j;jikg;G.

x];Nyh cld;gbf;ifAld; rk;ge;jg;gl;lth;fspy; xUrhuuhd uzpy; jiyikapyhd a+vd;gp. mJTk; jw;NghJ mjpfhuj;jpy; ,y;iy. kWrhuhh; capUlNd ,y;iy. ,e;epiyapy; rk;ke;jdpd; ,e;j x];Nyh rk;ke;jk; vjw;F? vg;gbr; rhj;jpakhFk;? ,jw;F jw;Nghija Ml;rpahsh;fs; rk;kjpg;ghh;fsh?

murpay; fw;Wf;Fl;bf;Ff;$l njhpAk; murhq;fk; Kd;itf;Fk; ve;j rpwpa jpl;lj;ijAk; vjph;fl;rp vd;gJ vjph;g;gJjhd;. ,J fhyfhyk; eilngw;WtUk; rlq;F. NkYk; x];Nyh cld;gbf;ifapy; ifr;rhj;jpl;l md;iwa J}rzGUrh; md;ud; ghyrpq;fk; yz;lDf;F NghdJld; td;dpg;gf;fk; jiyitj;Jf;$l gLj;jjpy;iy. “khj;ijah khjphp ePAk; vdf;Fj; JNuhfk; nra;Jtpl;lha; vd;d?” vd;W gpughfud; Nfl;ljhy;jhd; jdJ fij Kbag;NghfpwJ vd;W fpof;Ff;F Xbte;j Nfzy; fUzh jg;gpj;Jf;nfhz;lhh;. fUzh kl;Lky;y mtUld; ,Ue;j fpof;Fkhfhz cWg;gpdh;fSk; kf;fSk;jhd;.

,g;Ngh x];Nyh cld;gbf;ifia ifapnyLj;jpUf;Fk; rk;ge;jh;> RNu]; gpNukr;re;jpud; tifawhf;fs; khj;ijah khjphp mfg;gl;bUe;jhy; vd;dnfjp?

vdNt Gypf; $j;jikg;G Nkw;nfhs;Sk; eltbf;iffs; my;y ,th;fs; ve;jf; fhyj;jpy; eltbf;ifapy; <Lgl;lhh;fs;. ,th;fSila fUj;J ntspg;ghLfs;@ kw;wth; kPJ Jd;gj;ij Rkj;Jk; Nehf;fky;y> kw;wth; kPJ nrYj;Jk; KO mjpfhu ,d;gj;jpd; ntspg;ghLjhd; ,J. kw;wth; kPJ jhd; nrYj;Jk; rf;jpapypUe;J Vw;gLk; ,d;gk;. ,JNt rhbrj;jpd; rhuk;.

jkpod; jd;idf; fhg;ghw;wpf; nfhs;Sk; jpwd; mwNt mw;wepiyapy; mtd;kPJ Jd;gj;ijAk; Nftyj;ijAk; Vw;gLj;Jk; czh;T> kpff; nfh&ukhd ntspg;ghLjhd;.

‘tl> fpof;F jkpo;NgRk; kf;fspd; njspthd MizNa rh;tNjr r%fj;jpd; vjph;ghh;g;G’ vd;W NkYk; fijtpLk; rk;ke;jh; $l;lq;fs; jpUe;jg;Nghtjpy;iy. ‘tpiyNghfhj> kz;baplhj> murpapy; mDgtKs;s’ vd;W Fowpf;nfhl;bf;nfhz;L jphpgth;fsplk; jkpo; kf;fs; kaq;fj;jhd; Nghfpwhh;fs;. me;j kaf;fj;ij itj;Jf;nfhz;Nl Fowpf;nfhz;bUg;gth;fs; gpiog;ghh;fs;. ,jw;F cLf;fbj;Jf;nfhz;L jkpo; Clfq;fSk; jkJ gpiog;igg; ghh;j;Jf;nfhs;thh;fs;. ghtk; kf;fs; vd;W nrhy;tijj; jtpu NtnwJTk; nra;tjw;Fk; ,y;iy ek;kplj;jpy;.

mwptpaypYk; njhopy; El;gj;jpy; cyfk; cr;rj;ij Nehf;fpg; gazpj;Jf;nfhz;bUf;fpwJ. mwptpay;> mjpfhuk;> Md;kPfk; vd Ma;thsh;fs; Ma;Tfis Nkw;nfhz;LtUfpwhh;fs;. tpthjpf;fpwhh;fs;> fUj;Jf;fis Kd;itf;fpwhh;fs;. ehNkh ntWk; czh;r;rpfSf;Fk; - ntw;Wg; Ngr;RfSf;Fkhf vkJ tho;f;ifia ,oe;JtpLfpNwhk;. ,jpy; kpff; Nftyk; vd;dntd;why; mbikg;gl;l Gj;jp[PtpfSk; ,e;j ntw;Wg; Ngr;Rf;fSf;F rg;Gf; fl;LtJjhd;.

kf;fis ‘nghUshf;fp’ – [lkhf;fp tpLfpwhd; murpay;thjp. mg;nghUis jd; tpUg;gj;jpw;F cfe;j vy;yh topfspYk; ,td; ,af;f KbAk;. ,k;Kiwapy; kw;wth;fspd; flTshfpwhd;. kw;w kdpj caph;fs;kPJ ,td; nra;Ak; Mjpf;fk; kw;wth;fis Klkhf;fptpLfpwJ. %r;Rj; jpzwbf;fpwJ. GypfSf;Fk; ,th;fSf;Fk; NtWghL cz;L. Gypfs; ehrk; nra;gtd;> kw;w kdpjid ,y;yhkw; nra;fpwhd;. xopj;Jf; fl;Lfpwhd;. murpay;thjpfs; kw;wth; tho;itf; fl;Lg;gLj;jp - %r;Rj; jpzwitf;Fk; czh;tpy; ,d;GWfpwhh;fs;.

(rjh. [P) (gq;fdp 10> 2010)

2010-03-02T09:13:00.001-08:00

Chpy ,Uf;fpw Xzhidg; gpbf;fj;njhpahjtd; cLkiyNgha; cLk;igah gpbg;ghd;?

- rjh. [P

gr;Nrhe;jp #oYf;F Vw;wkhjphp jdJ epwj;ij khw;wpf;nfhs;tijg;Nghy murpay; fl;rpfSk; jkJ epwq;fis Fzq;fis khw;wpf;nfhz;Ltpl;ld. vy;yhk; ghuhSkd;w Mrdj;Jf;fhff;jhd;! (gp\;lky;y)

N[.tp.gp eilngwTs;s nghJj; Njh;jiy vjph;nfhs;s jpuhzpaw;W [dehaf Njrpa $l;lzp vd;W epwj;ij khj;jpf;nfhz;bUf;fpwJ. khf;rpa rpj;jhe;jk; Ntjhe;jk; Ngrpath;fs; ,d;W Ms;fpilf;fhky; n[duy; ruj; nghd;NrfhTf;Fg; gpd;dhy; kiwe;Jnfhz;L ifia ePl;Lfpwhh;fs;.

N[.tp.gp ,k;Kiw jdpj;J Njh;jiyr; re;jpj;jhy; xU ghuhSkd;w Mrdj;ijg; ngWtJ$l kfhf];lk;. Vnddpy; fle;jfhy khefu> efu kw;Wk; khfhz rigj; Njh;jy;fspy; kz;izf; nfstpaNjhL tpOq;fpAk; tpl;lJ. eilngw;w [dhjpgjpj; Njh;jypy; nghJthd murpay; fl;rpfspd; $l;Lk; nghJ Ntl;ghsUk; thq;fp fl;bf;nfhz;ljhy; ehlhSkd;wj; Njh;jypy; ahid rpd;dj;ij tpl;Lf;nfhLf;f a+.vd;.gp jahhpy;iy. ahidr; rpd;dj;jpy; Nghl;bapl N[.tp.gpf;F jd;khdg; gpur;rpid. jdpj;J Nghl;bapLk; ty;yikAk; ,y;iy. vdNt n[duy; nghd;Nrfit Kd;dpWj;jp fskpwq;FfpwJ. ,jd; %yk; filrp xU Mrdj;ijahtJ ngw;Wf;nfhs;s KbAk; my;yth?

,Njepiy a+vd;gpf;F ,y;iyahapDk; n[duy; ruj;nghd;Nrfhit tioj;Jg;Nghl jiyahy; kz;izf;fpz;baJ. Jujp];lk; xd;W n[duy; N[tpgpf;F gr;ir;nfhb fhl;btpl;lhh;. Jujp];lk; ,uz;L murhq;fk; n[duiy fpLq;Fg;gpbapy; itj;jpUf;fpwJ. murpay; hPjpahf fhj;jpukhd nraw;ghLfsw;w ,e;j ,uz;L fl;rpfSk; murhq;fk; vLj;Jitf;Fk; mbfisAk; tpkh;r;rpg;gNjhL jkJ gzpfis Kbj;Jf;nfhs;fpd;wd.

ky;tj;ij> m];fphpa gPlhjpgjpfs; cl;gl ehd;F gPlq;fs; kPJk; fsq;fNkw;gLj;jpAs;sdh;. murpay;thjpfs; kPJ NrW g+rpath;fs; ngsj;j kfhrq;fj;jpdh; kPJk; mjidr; nra;a Kw;gl;Ls;sdh;. gpughfudhy; nra;a Kbahjij nra;aKw;glhjij muR nra;J fhl;btpl;lJ. ngsj;j rhrdj;Jf;F mgfPh;j;jp Vw;gLj;jg;gl;Ls;sJ. ,jid rpq;fs ngsj;j kf;fs; nghWj;Jf;nfhz;bUf;f KbahJ. kfhrq;fk; mtkjpf;fg;gLtij mDkjpf;f KbahJ. ,jw;nfjpuhf rpq;fs kf;fs; xd;Wgl Kd;tu Ntz;Lk; vd uzpy; miog;GtpLj;jhh;.

Nkw;fz;lthW Ngrpa uzpy; Xa;T Neuj;jpy; mijg;gw;wp rpe;jpj;J ntl;fg;gLthNuh vd;dNth? Vnddpy; vg;gbnay;yhk; nfhiy nra;a KbANkh mg;gbnay;yhk; nfhiy nra;jth; gpughfud;. Caph;fis nfhiy nra;tjpy; ghpNrhjidfisr; nra;jth;. uzpYf;F guthapy;iy vd;whfptpl;lJ. rz;bah; rk;ge;jh;$l ,g;gbahdnjhU jFjpia GypfSf;F toq;Ftjpy; gpd;dpd;wjpy;iy.

‘Rk;khfple;j Njiu ,Oj;J eLNwhl;by tpl;lJ’Nghy mtuth; jj;jkJ jFjpf;F Vw;g Njiu ,Oj;J tpl;bUf;fpwhh;fs;. R.g. jkpo;nry;tdpd; nghy;Yf;F gae;J mtpl;Ltpl;l rz;bf;fl;il rk;ge;jh; jw;NghJ ed;whfNt J}f;fpf; fl;bapUf;fpwhh;. mjdhy; $j;jikg;gpd; Kd;dhs; ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fs; rpyh; MSf;nfhU jpirapy; epd;W Nghl;bNghLfpwhh;fs;. ,J xUtifapy; jkpoh;fSf;F ed;ikNa. $j;jikg;gpd; cs;tPl;L Fj;Jf;fs; ,dp ntsptUk;. Mf fij Nfl;L Nfl;L ke;jkhd epiyapypUf;Fk; jkpoUf;F rpy ehl;fspy;> rpy ehl;fSf;F fpOfpOg;Gf;F gQ;rkpUf;fhJ.

‘fl;l rPiyapy;iynad;W Rrpyhitj; Njbg;Nghdhshk; xUj;jp. Rrpyh fl;l rPiyapy;yhky; Xiyia fl;bf;nfhz;L te;jhsk;’ vd;gJNghy ,yq;iftho; kf;fspd; epiyikahfptpl;lJ. ,yq;if tuyhw;wpy; ,JtiufhyKk; ,y;yhjsTf;F Ntl;ghsh;fs; fsj;jpy; ,wq;fpapUf;fpwhh;fs;. 195 ghuhSkd;w Mrdj;Jf;F Vohapuj;Jf;F Nkw;gl;lth;fs; Nghl;bNghLfpwhh;fs;. ,J MNuhf;fpakhdjy;y vd;whYk; ve;j ‘ntb’Ak; tpohJ vd;w jpzhntl;by; fhj;jhd;> g+j;jhndy;yhk; Ntl;G kDj;jhf;fy; nra;jpUf;fpwhh;fs;. gj;jphpif [hk;gthd;fSk; ‘,dk;njhpahNjhuhy;’ vd;w gjj;ij iftpl;L fz;Zf;F vz;nza; tpl;Lf;nfhz;bUf;fpwhh;fs;. mur gaq;futhjk; gw;wpAk; mjDld; ,aq;Fk; FOf;fs; gw;wpAk; tpohrpj;js;Stjw;F.

,J muRf;Fk; mjidr; rhh;e;jth;fSf;Fk; njhpe;jpUe;Jk; MdhYk; ‘Mbd fhYk; ghbd thAk; Rk;khapUf;fhJ’ vd;gJNghy kz;iz ms;sp jiyapy;NghLk; fhhpaq;fs; nky;y nky;y muq;NfWfpwJ. ,J Njh;jy; mz;kpf;Fk; Ntisapy; nts;sptpohf; nfhz;lhLk; vd;gjpy; re;Njfkpy;iy.

$j;jikg;G> ‘,y;yhj CUf;F Nghfpw top’ nrhy;ypNa thf;Ffis Ntl;ilahLk;. $j;jikg;igtpl;Lg; gphpe;J epw;gth;fSk; ‘mJ my;y top ,Jjhd; top’ vd;W nrhy;yp Ntl;ilahLth;. mg;gbnahU CNu ,y;iy vd;fpw gpuf;iQ rpwpJk; ,y;yhky; $j;jikg;gpd; topjhd; ‘rhpahf ,Uf;Fk;’ vd;W jkpo; kf;fs; kfhj;jhd jPh;g;ig toq;Fth;!

,e;j jPh;g;ig XusNtDf;Fk; khw;wf;$ba rf;jp ,Ue;Jk; me;j ‘rf;jp’ia jhiuthh;j;Jtpl;L Mq;fhq;Nf $l;Lk; Mq;fhq;Nf jdpj;Jk; epw;Fk; ghpjhgj;ij vd;dntd;W ntspapy; nrhy;tJ. $j;jikg;Gf;F Nruf;$ba ghuhSkd;w Mrdq;fis Fiwe;jgl;rk; Fiwf;ff;$ba ty;yikia ,oe;Jepw;Fk; ,th;fspd; ghpjhgj;ij nrhy;tjh? my;yJ ,e;j rf;jpia xd;W jpul;Ltjw;F ghLgl;l fl;rpfspd; jdpegh;fspd; ghpjhgj;ij nrhy;tjh? my;yJ VkhWk; Vkhwf; fhj;jpUf;Fk; jkpo; kf;fspd; ghpjhgj;ij nrhy;tjh? vijr; nrhy;tJ?

rd;dy; ,y;yyhky; ,e;j kdpj uhrpf;Fg; ghh;it trg;glhky; Nghfyhk;. tpRt&gk; cjwy; vLf;f itf;fyhk;. Mdhy; rd;dYf;F mg;ghYk; fhl;rp cz;L vd;w khh;f;]; - vq;fy;Rf;F ,Ue;j tpopg;G ekf;F rjh Njit.

,dp xU Fl;bf;fij thrpf;fpwPh;fsh? rw;Wk; kdk; jsuhj tpf;fpukhjpj;jd; ,ilapd; cilthis vLj;Jf;nfhz;L mud;kidia tpl;L gpzk; njhq;Fk; Ks;sptha;f;fhy; kuj;ij Nehf;fpg; Gwg;gl;lhd;. topapy; njd;gl;l Nga; “vdJ tpLfijf;F tpiliar; nrhy;yptpl;L gpzj;ij vLj;Jr; nry;. jtwpdhy; cdJ jiy Rf;F E}whf nehWq;Fk;” vd;wJ. tpf;fpukhjpj;jDk; ‘BY’f;F rk;kjpj;jhd;. NgAk; fijiar; nrhy;yj; njhlq;fpaJ.

fy;Njhd;w> kz;Njhd;w fhyj;J Kd;Njhd;wpa %j;j Fbahdtid mtdJ maY}uhd; kpf ePz;lhfhyj;jpd; gpd; re;jpj;jhd;. ,UtUk; ciuahbf;nfhz;bUe;jdh;. ciuahlypd; eLtpNy maY}utd;> Fbahdtdplk; “cq;fSila taJ vd;d?” vd;W Nfl;lhd;. FbahdtDk; “vOgJ” vd;whd;. maY}uhd; tpag;gile;jtuhf “Ie;J tUlj;Jf;F Kd; jq;fisr; re;jpj;jNghJk; jq;fSf;F taJ vOgJ vd;Wjhd; nrhd;dPh;fs;. jw;nghOJk; mNj gjpiyNa nrhy;fpwPh;fNs?” vd;whd;. fijia mj;Jld; epWj;jpf;nfhz;l Ntjhsk;> tpf;fpukhjpj;jdplk; “Fbahdtd; nrhd;d gjpy; rhpah? mJ vg;gbr; rhpahFk;?” vd;gjw;fhd gjpiy eP nrhy;yhtpl;lhy; cd; jiy Rf;FE}whf ntbj;Jr; rpjWk; vd;wJ.

tpf;fpukhjpj;jDf;F jiy Rw;wpaJ> mt;tsT gpzq;fs;! Mtw;iw mtd; RLfhl;Lf;F vLj;Jr; nrd;W vhpa+l;l Ntz;Lk;. ,jw;Fs; ,e;j Ntjhsj;jpd; njhy;iy. ,e;j Nfs;tpnay;yhk; ‘rg;g Nkl;lh;’ tpf;fpukhjpj;jDf;F.

cq;fisg;NghyNt> ,e;j nghJj; Njh;jypy; jkpo; kf;fs; ‘tuyhw;W jpUg;gKs;s jPh;g;ig’ jkf;F toq;fNtz;Lk; - jkpo; kf;fspd; chpikfis ahUf;Fk; jhiuthh;j;Jtpl KbahJ - ghuhSkd;wj;jpy; cuf;f Fuy;nfhLg;Nghk; vd;w ,d;dgpw fz;whtpaSk; tpf;fpukhjpj;jdpd; Qhgfj;Jf;Fk; te;Jnjhiyj;jJ.

“Fbahdtd; nrhd;d gjpy; rhpNa. Vnddpy; Fbahdtd; nrhd;d nrhy; khwhjtd;. xUjlit nrhd;d nrhy;iy khw;wpr; nrhy;Yk; ” vd;W ef;fybj;j tpf;fpukhjpj;jd; kujpNywp gpzj;ij fPNo tpOj;jpdhd;. fPopwq;fpatd; gpzj;ij J}f;fp Njhspy; Rke;Jnfhz;L RLfhl;il Nehf;fp ele;jhd;. ghf;fpw Ntiyia ghh;j;jhd; tpf;fpukhjpj;jd;. ePq;fSk; vOk;gpg;Ngha; ghf;fpw Ntiyiag; ghUq;Nfh!

2010-02-20T14:43:00.000-08:00

Ethnic consciousness: The case of Sri Lanka

By Daya Somasundaram

The dangers inherent in emphasising difference and exclusiveness as the foundations of collective identities are not to be underestimated. While group identities provide various benefits, the consequences of a group considering itself superior to others often results in violence. The polarised ethnic consciousnesses of the two main groups in Sri Lanka, the Sinhalese and the Tamils, has fuelled a violent civil conflict for over 25 years.

Ethnic segmentation in Sri Lanka evolved from the colonial and post-colonial experiences that divided the population along racial lines. In the pre-colonial period, different linguistic groups coexisted in relative harmony for centuries despite dynastic feuding, intense rivalry among kings, and inter-caste conflicts. The initial categorisation of the population in ethnic terms came from European theories of racial classifications; these divisions have unfortunately persisted after decolonisation with devastating consequences.

Though socially concerned scholars (Committee for Rational Development, 1983; Spencer, 1990; Jeganathan & Ismail, 1995; Roberts, 1977; 1994; 1997; Obeyesekere, 1988; Tambiah, 1992; Bastian, 1994) have belatedly begun to deconstruct these divisive consciousnesses, these nationalisms have already become invested with considerable emotion.

They are supported by strong mythic beliefs that defy rational argument. Ultimately they are “imagined” (Anderson, 2006), or what Marxists call false consciousness, or what Buddhist and Hindu philosphers would call maya. As Allport (1958) points out: “A subtle and attractive mystery surrounds the concept of blood... This symbolism has no supportfrom science. Race is a fashionable focus for the propaganda of alarmists and demagogues... Racists
seem to be people who out of their own anxieties,

Amongst scholars and academics who trace the origins of ethnic consciousness, most agree that its current manifestation in Sri Lanka is of recent origin. Sinhalese and Tamil ethnic identities are not genetically inherent. Low Country and Kandyan Sinhalese used to be considered different groups only a century ago, more so than the Sinhalese- Tamil demarcation that, at the time, overlapped in many castes without apparent tension. The sharp divide in Sinhalese-Tamil identities evolved from a confluence of socio-cultural, political, economic, ecological, contextual, and psychological factors.

Aspiring leaders and interested parties have astutely fanned and manipulated these points of contention to serve their own ends.

According to Sivaram (Whitaker, 2007), modern ruling elites have found ethno-nationalism to be the most effective principle to organize and govern emerging modern nation-states. The emotional loyalty and passions it generates make it an easy mechanism to garner votes, obedience, sacrifice, and control. Gilroy (2000) eloquently opposes the “emergence and entrenchment of biopolitical power as a means and technique for managing the life of populations, states and societies.” Biopolitical power is based on ethno-nationalism. It is a form of ‘New Racism’ in the post-colonial world, arising out of beliefs in discrete and exclusive racial and national identities that are then linked to a genomic, essentialist fundamentalism.

Today’s ethno-nationalist politicians and academics in Sri Lanka have used these divisive ideas to influence peoples’ perceptions of themselves as part of exclusive ethnic categories. Sri Lankan parliamentary politics have produced ethnically-based tyrannies of the majority. Aspiring leaders have learned to appeal to ethnic passions as an easy route to power, thus prolonging the war between the Sinhalese and the Tamils that has left deep emotional scars on individuals, families, and communities.

Moreover, the acrimonious debate as to which ethnic group came to Sri Lanka first, which features prominently in the discourse of group divisions based on historic grievances, is laden with misunderstanding. No evidence exists to support the Sinhalese argument that their group came to Sri Lanka first as an ‘Aryan’ migration from North India, nor for the Tamils’ claim to South Indian origins. Rather, the historical record shows that the island’s local inhabitants adapted to influences from mainland India fomented by the movement of traders, craftsman, skilled workers, mercenaries, prisoners of war, and brides in both directions (Indrapala, 2007).

Further, migrants came not only from various parts of India but also from Java, Malaysia, Arabia, and more recently, Europe. People also migrated within Sri Lanka and freely switched from one language to another. Thus ethnic, linguistic, and religious identifies were fluid, overlapping, and inclusive.

I contend that the only path to reconciliation is to make people aware of the value of other ethnic constructions by breaking down and rebuilding these historically-rooted but ultimately perceived identities. However, before this can take place, the underpinning socio-economic factors that have worked to maintain polarised attitudes must be transformed. Taking these steps is the only way can we begin to build a vision for lasting peace in Sri Lanka’s future.

The Colonial Origins of the Conflict

The extreme polarisation of the country’s two main groups, the Tamils and the Sinhalese, is the largest obstacle standing in the way of a lasting solution to Sri Lanka’s ethnic strife. The basic divide is one of language. Seventyfour percent of the population is categorized as Sinhalese speakers. Of these, over 93 percent are Buddhist. The remainder of the population is mostly composed of the 25.7 percent Tamil-speaking minority, about half of whom are Sri Lankan Tamils. Almost 29 percent are Muslims and the remaining 21 percent are Hill Country Tamils. There is a negligible number of Burghers, Malays and Veddas that account for the remaining 1.5 percent of the country’s population.

The source of the highly charged division between the Sinhalese and the Tamils can be linked to the cycle of ethnically-motivated inequality that was experienced by both sides during the past century. Under British rule, Tamils were perceived as holding an unfair advantage, since they were disproportionately better educated and better employed by the state. However, the situation was inversed in other sectors such as commerce and agriculture, as the arid and underdeveloped land of the northeast Tamil territories lacked the level of resources available to the rest of the island.

The disproportionate number of Tamils in these sectors led to affirmative action campaigns by the subsequent Sinhalese governments. In time, however, the government overshot the mark and Tamils began to see themselves as disadvantaged in relation to the Sinhalese in terms of government investment (mainly in education) and felt themselves slipping from the privileged position they had previously enjoyed in certain key areas. They felt they had become “2nd class citizens” (Schwarz, 1988). Now, not only the state but the private sector and even some diplomatic missions discriminate against Tamils in their hiring practices, as well as when issuing visas and scholarships. While employing Sinhalese workers engenders good relations with and benefits from the state for employers, hiring Tamils can bring trouble due to costly intrusions by the police and armed services, who frequently arrest and detain Tamil employees.

The Construction of Ethnic Consciousnesses

An interesting characteristic of the ethno-national discourse between the Sinhalese and Tamil groups is that the majority and minority ideologies are, in many ways, mirror images of one another. Both ideologies define the ‘other’ in terms of exclusion and opposition. War, then, becomes a contest between hegemonic ideologies for supremacy in an attempt to impose a particular construction of social reality. However, both operate within the same paradigm of ethno-nationalism by producing a master narrative that is hegemonic within the group and totalitarian in nature. In a politically contested, polarised, and violent situation, attempts to transcend these narratives can be taken as treason; the mentality becomes one of either being with or against the group, with little room for flexibility or compromise.

The majority Sinhalese Buddhist consciousness has evolved to identify itself with a territorial claim to the whole island (Sinhadeepa), as well as the Sinhalese language and the Buddhist religion. However, Sinhalese Christians form about seven percent of the Sinhalese population and mostly share the beliefs of the dominant Sinhalese consciousness. Many Sinhalese nationalist elite leaders came from this social stratum, and later converted to Buddhism.

According to Kumari Jayawardena (1986), the Sinhalese-Buddhist consciousness is based on:

1) The doctrine of the primacy and superiority of the Sinhalese `race' as the original, true inhabitants of the island. This is linked to a myth that the Sinhalese were `Aryan' migrants from Bengal.

2) The concept that the Sinhalese race has been placed in a special relationship to Buddhism as its protector. Appeals to save Buddhism from infidels are frequent in the rhetoric of Sinhalese ethno-nationalism. In recent years, some Sinhalese leaders have gone as far as calling for a dharma yudhaya, or holy war, to protect the Buddhist religion.

3) The feeling of insecurity that stems from the fact that, unlike the other minority groups which have ethnic links with other countries, the Sinhalese are a regional minority that does not exist outside of Sri Lanka. This is particularly true in reference to the Tamils, who, while a minority within Sri Lanka, identify ethnically with the 50 million Tamils living in South India.

Despite the relatively recent emergence of the conception of this identity, it has profoundly influenced today’s Sinhalese people. Violence and political action against those perceived to threaten this identity is commonplace (Gunawardana, 1990).

Prominent Sinhalese have reinterpreted history to arouse strong feelings of injustice. An example of this is the 1956 All Ceylon Buddhist Congress’s Committee of Inquiry report, “The Betrayal of Buddhism,” written while Sri Lanka was still under British rule (Tambiah, 1992). The sentiments expressed in this document later grew into virulent Sinhalese Buddhist ethnocentrism, culminating in the 1983 anti-Tamil pogrom.

Anthropologists Obeyesekere (1988, with Gombrich, 1988), Kapferer (1988; 1997), and Tambiah (1992) have elucidated how this identity came into being from a deeper intra-psychic, socio-cultural perspective. Ancient Buddhist chronicles like the Mahavamsa and the Dipavamsa as well as many myths and legends, such as those of Duttugemunu and Vijaya, have been reconstituted and imbibed with new meanings in the current socioeconomic and political context to identify the Tamils as the archetypal “dangerous other” (Nissan & Stirrat, 1990). These beliefs have become deeply ingrained in the Sinhalese psyche. The collective fear of the other manifested itself in periodic mob violence against Tamils while providing the impetus behind the continuing machinations of state terror. The current model of extreme Sinhalese Buddhist ideology and politics are represented by Jathika Chinthanaya or “national consciousness” (Goonewardena, 2007), which had maneuvered itself into the driving seat of the Sri Lankan state under the Rajapakse regime and through the Jathika Hela Urumaya (JHU) and Janatha Vimukthi Perumana (JVP/NPM) parties (UTHR-J, 2008).

Unsurprisingly, modern Sri Lankan Tamil identity developed as a reaction to the increasing dominance of the Sinhalese Buddhist identity (Wilson, 2000; Arasaratnam, 1998). Successive Sinhalese leaders rose to power by exploiting ethno-nationalism and then proceeded to use the state machinery to promote Sinhalese superiority. This was accomplished by enforcing Sinhalese as the only official language in 1956, enshrining Buddhism as the state religion in the 1972 constitution, and discriminating in favor of the Sinhalese in educational and employment opportunities as well as in the allocation of resources and land. These leaders also encouraged periodic mobviolence against the Tamils, notably in 1956, 1958, 1977, 1981, and 1983. In turn, the Tamils feared that their existence and identity as a separate and unique group was under threat. Furthermore, claims to a Tamil homeland in the north and east of Sri Lanka clashed with Sinhalese perceptions of territoriality. It was only after the 1983 pogrom that the Tamil resistance became militant and fascist in turn. Tamil nationalist groups adopted methods of terror against the state, Sinhalese and Muslim communities, and those in the Tamil community reluctant to participate in the Tamil ethnonationalist narrative.

Like its Sinhalese counterpart, Sri Lankan Tamil ethno-nationalism developed over the past century. Over the course of decades of discrimination and violent repression, Tamils have acquired a minority complex based on their collective experience of persecution at the hands of the state. This complex has often led them to hide their identity in public areas outside of their traditional territory in order to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Despite these efforts, they are frequently required to identify their ethnic background at military checkpoints and are subject to government-sanctioned house-to-house searches. The recent detention and internment of close to 280,000 Tamil internally displaced persons (IDPs) exemplifies the outcomes of this anti-Tamil state aggression.

Many Tamils who consider these conditions intolerable have fled the country, spreading ethnonationalist sentiments throughout the Tamil diaspora. The spread of Tamil nationalism and its linkages to a pan-Tamil nationalism are already apparent in Sri Lanka, across the straits in India’s Tamil Nadu province, and, increasingly, worldwide. Large pro-Tamil movements exist in Western countries such as Canada, the US, the UK, Australia, France, Sweden, Norway and Germany. With the military defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) in May 2009, there are now growing efforts to form a more unified transnational Tamil movement. Those who support the establishment of a separate Tamil Eelam state argue for the group’s entitlement to ethnic sovereignty by referencing the ‘purity’ of the Dravidian race, the descendants of the ancient Mohenjadaro civilization, the greatness of the 5000-year-old Tamil language, and the glories of the Chola Empire.

This exclusive ethnocentric identity alienates other minorities within Tamil-speaking areas and has resulted in the expulsion and massacre of Muslims in the north and east. Eastern Tamils, who perceive themselves as being historically marginalised by their northern brethren and feel that their identity, history, culture, and problems are somewhat different, voice fears of being dominated by the northern Jaffna Tamils (Reddiar, 1997). Such fears resurfaced once again with the internal LTTE-Karuna split in 2005. Thus, for all their nationalistic rhetoric, the Tamils have not demonstrated the capacity to overcome a narrow ethnocentric consciousness and develop
a tolerant, multicultural one.

As a reaction to these cycles of ethnic identification, exclusiveness, and persecution, other minorities within the country have begun to assert their identities. In particular, the Muslim community has undergone a rapid political awakening as a reaction to local ethnic hostilities. Political parties and a extremist youth militant organisation have surfaced to represent Muslim interests. The electoral success of the Sri Lanka Muslim Congress has consolidated
requests for an autonomous Muslim territory in eastern Sri Lanka. Furthering this paper’s thesis regarding the contextual determinism of ethnic consciousness, Sri Lankan Muslim identity is increasingly taking on an international dimension. Muslims are now beginning to identify and perceive themselves as members of the international Muslim community, which transcends national boundaries.

The Institutionalisation of Difference

The hegemony of the ethnonationalist Sinhalese line is found at all levels of society. An illuminating study of Sri Lankan school textbooks by Siriwardene (1984) reports:

“Millions of school children [are] taught, in the name of social studies, through text-books published by the state, the myths of divergent racial origins which will help to divide the Sinhalese and Tamils for more generations to come... What this lesson does is to evoke the child's memories of being frightened by his parents with threats of the mysterious and fearful `billo' to identify these bogeymen as Tamil agents, and thus to enlist the deep-seated irrational fears of early childhood for the purpose of creating apprehension and hatred of Tamils.”

Although the Tamil insurgency acknowledged military defeat on May 17, 2009, vestiges of the civil war are ubiquitous in Sri Lanka: PIC-Arun Pillai-Essex/MFAR

Referring to the exploitation of history as an instrument of divisive ethnic ideologies, Siriwardene says history texts "project an image of Sinhalese- Buddhist identity which is defined fundamentally through opposition to and struggles against Tamils in history.”

The misappropriation of education for ethno-nationalist purposes is by no means only a Sinhalese problem. Siriwardene quotes a professor who says that Tamil textbooks "[inculcate] in the Tamil child a special feeling for his or her community and language, and [help] to strengthen communal attitudes... and to foster a kind of patriotic feeling, not towards Sri Lanka but towards Tamil Nadu.” This is but one example, and a very telling one, of how deeply these divisions run and how difficult it will be to overcome them if they are entrenched in the minds of the members of both groups from childhood.

However, despite the institutionalisation of these divisions by state and community actors, the narrow categorization of current identities does not accurately reflect the lived experience of most Sri Lankans. Their reality is a much richer blend. Many people share multiple identities, loyalties, beliefs, and common cultural practices (Silva, 2002). Clear examples of a shared consciousness can be found in cultural festivals such as the Sinhalese-Tamil New Year celebrations, in the ever-popular World Cup cricket matches, and in religious practices at Kataragama, Bellanvilla, and countless other shrines around the country (Gombrich & Obeyesekere, 1988; Kapferer,1988). Despite numerous attempts on the part of leaders on boths sides to sow the seeds of division in these popular gatherings, these important cultural phenomena have been sustained.

The only way to achieve reconciliation is to address the genuine grievances of the minorities. For example, if official use of the Tamil language can be genuinely implemented, as promised under the constitution, Tamils would start to feel that they have a place in their country. However, such measures would by no means solve the problem overnight. It is the perception of being treated as second-class citizens and of being discriminated against because of their ethnicity that has caused such deep-seated resentment. Fear of being assimilated at the expense of their group identity and culture is at the heart of their struggle. However, creating an environment in which such fears would no longer have any basis in reality would entail a drastic transformation of attitude on the part of the Sinhalese community, which would have to accept the responsibility to allow for the needs of a pluralistic, multicultural polity.

Apart from the aspects of the conflict rooted in ethnic difference (whether perceived or real) and with commensurate implications for seeking prospective solutions, it is crucial to acknowledge that there are vested economic, psychological, and political interests in continuing the war. The military, security, and political establishment, as well as militant organizations, all have stakes in maintaining the status quo. Included in the perks that come from positions of power are economic benefits to be had from salaries and allowances, not to mention the myriad corrupt practices generated by times of conflict (TI, 2001). In effect, it can be said that the major organisations acting in the war perceive themselves as existentially dependent on the continuation of the conflict. This idea is not without some truth to it, thus rendering reconciliation all the more difficult due to the extremely high costs such a change in dynamics would incur for many powerful groups. Furthermore, since 9/11 Sri Lanka has been pulled into the Global War on Terror, a connection that is sure to linger as Sri Lanka’s Muslim population becomes increasingly politicised.

In addition, the geopolitical considerations of the regional superpowers and internal politics of the Indian subcontinent continue to have powerful repercussions on the ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka. Unfortunately for ordinary civilians, the conflcit has become inextricably entangled in webs of international, regional, national, and local struggles for power. Appeasing and reconciling this plethora of diverging interests
will be no simple feat.

Clearly, the military defeat of the LTTE by the Sri Lankan Army last year did not and cannot end the conflict between Tamils and Sinhalese. It is a historical conflict rooted in colonial policy and driven by firmly entrenched, diametrically opposed, and mutually exclusive ethnic consciousnesses. If there is to be any progress towards peace as a conclusion to this protracted ethnic conflict, all of these vested interests and socioeconomic, historical, political, psychological, and ideological dynamics will have to be taken into account and addressed in practical, effective ways. Ideally, this would transform the underlying ethnic consciousnesses and attitudes on both sides. Despite the difficulty of this task, undermining the exclusive identities of each group in favor of a shared positive ethnic consciousness appears to be the only route to lasting peace for warravaged Sri Lanka.

For works cited: Click PDF File [ MCGILL FOREIGN AFFAIRS REVIEW, Volume II, Issue 1 - Winter 2010]

Daya Somasundaram, is former Senior Professor of Psychiatry in the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Jaffna and psychiatric consultant who worked in northern Sri Lanka for over two decades. His research and publications focused on the psychological effects of ethnic conflict and disasters, and the treatment thereof. He is currently on an extended sabbatical, working in Australia as a consultant psychiatrist as well as treating refugees and asylum seekers who have survived torture and severe trauma, while writing a book on collective trauma.

Courtesy : Tamilweek

Undermining Political Reconciliation with Post-Election Repression

2010-02-16T01:35:00.000-08:00

by Ahilan Kadirgamar

The following are my prepared remarks at the Global South Asia conference at New York University on 13 February 2010. My prepared remarks on the Sri Lanka panel in titled, ‘Return of the Displaced and Political Reconciliation’ are below. The remarks in the Sri Lanka panel which I chaired were to complement the presentations by Sharika Thiranagama, New School for Social Research titled, ‘Houses of the Future: Return and Reconciliation amongst Northern Muslims and Tamils’ and V. V. (Sugi) Ganeshananthan, University of Michigan, Lanka Solidarity, journalist and author of Love Marriage titled, ‘Dialogue in the Diaspora’. The February 2010 issue of Himal Southasian magazine is a special issue on Jaffna, Sri Lanka and has a number of articles that address the post-war moment. The Sri Lanka Democracy Forum (SLDF) statement on 18 January 2010 titled, ‘SLDF Calls for National Attention on Demilitarization and a Political Solution’ details many of these issues in depth.

I want to begin with the end of the war, which inevitably leads to a shift in politics. Post-war politics can not be same as war politics.

During the last couple years of the war, President Rajapaksa put together a war coalition comprised of a broad spectrum, from Sinhala nationalists to sections of the Old Left. Despite the end of the war, the President and his government attempted to keep the war mentality alive, as we have seen through the continued suffering of the displaced as they were herded into internment camps with no freedom of movement. It was indeed a lost opportunity for political reconciliation.

The war not only brought physical devastation and tremendous human suffering, it also undermined institutions, corrupted political culture, crippled dissent and contributed to the degeneration of our intellectual and scholarly production. As the people were bombarded by nationalist and war propaganda, issues of class, caste, gender and social justice were drowned. The end of the war, inevitably, is bringing these issues to the fore. The economic pressures in particular are mounting and the demands for democratisation are becoming stronger.

It is in this context that last month’s presidential elections, the first post-war national elections, became significant. Not only did it split the war coalition, with General Fonseka credited with winning the war, challenging the war-time President, it also signalled an interest in electoral politics not seen in the recent past. The elections were not so much a contest between the President and the General. Rather, General Fonseka, tarred with a militarist and authoritarian past himself, became the convenient expression of the dissatisfaction of people against the authoritarian and oligarchic aspirations of the Rajapaksa regime. In the face of the government’s unwillingness to recognise the post-war moment and to initiate a process of reconciliation and vision for Lanka’s economic and political future, the people propelled a considerable opening of political space through their election related mobilisations, ubiquitous discussions, open debates and dissent.

Despite such opposition, the President, by riding ideological momentum from the war victory and by holding elections two years in advance, was able to win with a large margin. While there was abuse of state power and state institutions, ultimately as in many other elections in Lanka, it was the rural Sinhalese population, which has much to rely on state patronage that gave the President the victory. The absence of a serious vision for Lanka’s future from General Fonseka and the opposition parties also meant that the rural voters were not willing to mobilise against the President on the basis of opposition to the incumbency alone. The abuses of state power, the uses of state patronage and the strength of incumbency all contributed to President Rajapaksa’s victory.

In the couple weeks since the elections, we again see the President and his government squander yet another opportunity for reconciliation, both with the minorities and the opposition, including the people that voted against the President. The arrest of opposition candidate General Fonseka by the military police a few days ago has unleashed protests, yet again exposing the authoritarianism of the Rajapaksa regime. Furthermore, journalists are again coming under attack as the Rajapaksa regime attempts to undermine the public sphere. With parliamentary elections now scheduled for April, the election dynamic again is likely to shape political engagement and the political space. Indeed the current round of repression, now mainly against sections of the Sinhalese population that oppose the government, is a risky strategy for the Rajapaksa regime; historically, elections have been a time when the arrogance of political power has been contested by the Lankan voters.

There are the many challenges of resettlement and reconciliation. But neither of these can be seen in apolitical terms, and in the limited framing of ethnic harmony. They are both related to a process of democratisation and a political settlement. During the decades of war, the problem in Sri Lanka was constructed as an ethnic problem. Indeed the political problems of Lanka can not be limited to one of ethnicity, as the recent political turmoil makes clear.

The most serious challenge in Lanka has been a problem of democratisation. That is democratisation in opposition to the abuse of power and authoritarianism as well as the refashioning of the brand of liberal democracy in Sri Lanka, which some of us have characterised as majoritarian democracy. Such a far reaching process of political reconciliation centred on democratisation would have to involve reforming the state through a new constitution that allows for the devolution of power to the regions and power-sharing at the centre. It would have to advance the devolution debate in ways to address class, caste, gender and the rural-urban divide. It would have to end the militarization of the decades of war. There needs to be substantive demilitarisation involving not only demobilisation and reduction of the size of the military, but also the lifting of the state of emergency and repealing the Prevention of Terrorism Act.

Thus political reconciliation can not just be about humanitarian issues and ethnic harmony. Nor can it be imprisoned within the Rajapaksa government’s narrow vision of reconstruction and economic development. Rather it has to take seriously the challenges of democratisation and a political settlement. Such political reconciliation will not be possible without dissent and democratic struggles that challenge the Sri Lankan State and the ruling regime, and awaken Lankan society at this important post-war moment.

Courtesy: http://kafila.org/

2010-02-15T16:10:00.001-08:00

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me;jf; fl;lj;jpYk; jkpo; kf;fis vg;gbahtJ fhg;ghw;wptpl Ntz;Lk; vd;W ,lJrhhpfs;> Kw;Nghf;F rf;jpfs;> kw;Wk; [dehafthjpfs; Fuy;nfhLj;jNghJk;$l ,th;fs; thohjpUe;jhh;fs;. aho; khtl;l Nguhah; kf;fis tpl;LtpLk;gpb Gypfsplk; nfQ;rpdhh;. Mg;g$l ,e;j kukz;ilfSf;Fg; Ghpatpy;iy. murhq;fk; cl;gl rh;tNjr r%fk; Gypfsplk;> ‘MAjq;fisf; fPNoNghl;Ltpl;L ruzile;JtpLq;fs;’ vd;W Nfl;Lf;nfhz;lNghJ$l ,Jfspd; kdk; xg;gtpy;iy.

Gypfspd; Jg;ghf;fpf;Fg; gae;Jjhd; ,th;fs; Mbdhh;fs; vd;gij ek;gKbfpwjh? mijAk; jhz;bg; GdpjkhdJ? Mf Gypfspdhy;jhd; jq;fs; gpiog;G XLk; vd;W kl;Lk; $j;jikg;G> Gypfspd; gp\;lj;ij fOttpy;iy. mijAk;jhz;b mth;fspd; gpizg;G!

mg;gbg;gl;l rpwpjsNtDk; kdpjj; jd;ikaw;w [lq;fSld; $l;lzp mikg;gjw;F Kw;Nghf;fhf fhl;bf;nfhz;l fl;rpfs; ,ize;Jnfhs;tJgw;wp ghPrpypf;fpd;wd vd;gij vd;dntd;W nrhy;tJ? ,dp ,th;fspd; ‘nfhs;if – Nfhl;ghLfis’ guzpy;jhd; NjlNtz;Lk;.

Mf ,th;fs; $j;jikg;G cUthf;fg;gl;l fhyj;jpy; mjpy; cs;slq;fg;glhjjw;F Gypfspd; tpUg;gpd;ikNa fhuzk;. my;yJ Gypfspd; ghrprr; nraw;ghLfs;jhd; ,th;fis jLj;jpUf;fpwJ. ,Jkl;Lk;jhd; Gypfsplk; ,th;fSf;F cld;glhjh tplakh? Vnddpy; Gypfs; vg;gb kf;fis Vkhw;wp mioj;Jr;nrd;W Ks;sptha;f;fhypy; gypnfhLj;jNjh mijNa $j;jikg;Gk; kf;fis Vkhw;wp Ks;sptha;fhypy; ,Ue;J mioj;Jr;nry;y Maj;jkhfpwJ. mjw;F Jizahf ,e;j Kd;dhs; Kw;Nghf;fhdth;fSk; Maj;jkhfpwhh;fsh?

N[tpgpf;F ,e;j Kiw xU ghuhSkd;w Mrdk; fpilj;jhNy nghpa tplak;. vdNt njd;gFjpapYs;s fl;rpfs; jdpj;J epd;W jkJ ghuhSkd;w Mrdq;fis Fiwj;Jf;nfhs;stij jLf;f jkJ ithpAlDk; $l;Lr; Nrh;e;J Njh;jiy re;jpf;f rpj;jk; nfhs;fpd;wdNth mNjNghyjhd; $j;jikg;Gk; jdJ Mrdq;fis jf;fitj;Jf;nfhs;s ,ju jkpo; fl;rpfisAk; tioj;Jg;Nghl glhjghL gLfpd;wd. mjw;F ,e;j fl;rpfSk; gypahtJ Nftyk;.

,e;j fl;rpfs; jdpj;J epd;why; mth;fSila jdpj;Jtk; njhlh;e;J epiyehl;lg;gLk;. kf;fSf;F njhlh;e;Jk; murpay; tpopg;Gzh;it Vw;gLj;jTk; ghuhSkd;wk; nry;tjw;fhd tha;g;G Vw;gLkhdhy; njhlh;e;Jk; kf;fs; Nrit nra;aTk; cjtpahf ,Uf;Fk; vd;gJ vkJ ek;gpf;if. Mdhy; $j;jikg;Gld; Nrh;e;jhy; $j;jbf;fTk; kf;fis njhlh;e;J Vkhw;wp Vkhw;wp tapW tsh;f;f kl;LNk cjTk; vd;gjpy; ve;jtpjkhd re;NjfKk; ekf;fpy;iy.

jkpo; NgRk; kf;fspd; Njrpag; gpur;rpidf;F epahakhd murpay; jPh;T fhzg;gl;l Ntz;Lk;. [dhjpgjpj; Njh;jypy; tlf;F> fpof;F tho; jkpo; NgRk; kf;fs; thf;Fg; gyj;jpd; %yk; jq;fspd; ,iwikia ntspg;gLj;jpAs;shh;fs;. ,jid Fg;igj; njhl;bapy; Nghl KbahJ. kf;fs; toq;fpa jPh;g;gpd; ngWkjp vd;d? vkf;F ,iwik chpikapy;iyah? ghuhSkd;wj; Njh;jypy; ,J Fwpj;J cuj;Jf; Nfl;Nghk;. [dhjpgjpj; Njh;jypy; tlf;F> fpof;F jkpo; NgRk; kf;fs; toq;fpa jPh;gpYk; ghh;f;f rpwg;ghd jPh;g;ig vjph;tUk; ghuhSkd;wj; Njh;jypy; toq;f Ntz;Lk;. mj;jPH;g;G rpq;fs kf;fspd; murpay; jiyikj;Jtj;jpy; xU czh;it> jpUg;gj;ij Vw;gLj;Jtjhf mika Ntz;Lk;. rh;tNjr r%fj;jpYk; mj;jPh;g;G jhf;fj;ij Vw;gLj;j Ntz;Lk; vd;W ePl;b Koq;Ffpwhh; jpUkiy rz;bah; ,uh. rk;ge;jh;.

,J ‘Gz;izf;fhl;b gpr;ir’ Nfl;Fk; epiyapidNa Qhgfk; Cl;LfpwJ. 22 ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fs; fle;j tUrq;fshf ghuhSkd;wj;jpypUe;J vd;dj;ij fpopj;jhh;fs;? ghuhSkd;wj;Jf;F Njh;e;njLf;fg;gLk;tiujhd; NkNy Fwpg;gpl;l [k;gq;fs; vy;yhk;. ghuhSkd;wk; nrd;whg; gpwF mLj;j Njh;jypd;NghJjhd; ,e;j [k;gq;fis ehk; kPz;Lk; Nfl;fyhk;.

ntl;fk; nfl;lj;jdkhf kPz;Lk; kPz;Lk; xd;iwNa nrhy;ypr; nrhy;yp thf;Ff; Nfl;gJk; mNjNghy ntl;fk; nfl;lj;jdkhf mth;fSf;Nf thf;Ffis mspf;Fk; kf;fsplk;> ntl;fk; nfl;lj;jdkhf ehKk; Nfl;fpNwhk; mth;fSf;F thf;fspf;fhjPh;fs;!

Panel on Sri Lanka

2010-02-07T22:07:00.000-08:00

Panel on Sri Lanka @ 2 -3:45pm on Sat, Feb 13th:
Sri Lanka: Return of the Displaced and Political Reconciliation
Panelists include: Ahilan Kadirgamar, Sri Lanka Democracy Forum, Himal Southasian Magazine, Kafila Collective

Sharika Thiranagama, The New School "Houses of the Future: Return and Reconciliation amongst Nort...hern Muslims and Tamils"

V.V. (Sugi) Ganeshananthan, The University of Michigan, Lanka Solidarity,
journalist and author of Love Marriage "Dialogue in the Diaspora"

February 13th, 2010 - 9am
Rosenthal Pavillion, NYU Kimmel Center
60 Washington Square S, New York, NY

-----------------
If interested in attending, please register for the conference at
http://sites.google.com/site/nyuglobalsouthasiaconference/registration

You can find the itinerary, personal bios, and other information about the conference at the following link:
http://sites.google.com/site/nyuglobalsouthasiaconference/Home

2010-02-07T14:32:00.001-08:00

nky;y nky;y Njh;jy;te;J nkd;ikahd ifiaj; njhl;L ms;sp ms;sp jur;nrhy;YNk …….!

- rjh. [P.

‘vjphp vq;fis Mo;fpwhd; vjphp vq;fis Mf;fpukpf;fpwhd; vjphp vq;fSf;F’ vd;W ‘’ jkpodpd; fhjpYk; g+r;Rw;Wk; g+rhhp gpd;fjthy; Ngha; vjphpAld; Nre;J ‘tp\;fpf;F Nrhlhf fye;J mbr;rhy; ey;ykh? my;yJ I];fl;b Nghl;L mbr;rhy; ey;ykh?’ vd;W fhurhukh tpjhjpj;Jtpl;L tpbNaf;f Ngg;guj; jpwe;jhy; ‘jkpoh;fspd; Rahl;rp> jkpo; gpuNjrq;fspy; jkpoh;fspd; eph;thfk; Mfpatw;iw typAWj;jpaJ $j;jikg;G’ vd;wpUf;Fk;. mq;F cz;ikapy; tapw;Wtypapy; rk;ge;jidah ff;$Rf;f ,Ue;J Kf;Fthh;> ,uT jpd;w #lhd Nfhopahy.

nghJj; Njy;jYf;F $j;jikg;G vd;d $j;jhLk; vd;W ghh;g;gjw;F Kjy;> nfhOk;G kl;Lk; jkpoPo tiuglk; ePz;bUf;fpwJ. mjhtJ tlfpof;fpy; kfpe;jtpd; rpe;jidia epe;jpj;J ruj; nghd;rhfhit Mjhpj;jjpd; %yk; jkpo; kf;fs; njspthd Kbtpid njhptpj;jpUf;fpwhh;fshk;. mNjNghy nfhOk;G cl;gl Rw;Wg;Gwq;fspy; thOk; jkpoh;fSk; kfpe;jtpd; rpe;jidia epe;jpj;J ruj;ij Mjhpj;jjpd; %yk; tlfpof;F kw;Wk; nfhOk;Gj; jkpoh;fs; vy;NyhUk; ,ize;jpUf;fpwhh;fshk;. mjhtJ $j;jikg;gpd; Ntz;LNfhSf;F nrtprha;j;J nfhOk;Gj; jkpoh;fSk; ruj;nghd;Nrfhit Mjhpj;jjhf $j;jikg;G Gfohq;fpjk; nfhs;fpwJ. vkf;fpUf;fpw xNu xU MWjy; $j;jikg;gpd; Ntz;LNfhSf;fpzq;fpj;jhd; njd;gFjp rpq;fs kf;fSk; ruj;Jf;F thf;Ffis Ftpj;jhh;fs; vd;W nrhy;ytpy;iy vd;gJjhd;.

nghJj; Njh;jypy; $j;jikg;G tlf;F fpof;fpy; jdpj;Nj Nghl;bapLk;. [dhjpgjpj; Njh;jypy; ‘mtiu Mjhpf;fpNwhk;’ vd;W nrhy;ypaJ kpfkpf ,yFthdJ. Vnddpy; $j;jikg;G Rl;bf;fhl;bath; ntd;why; jq;fSila ‘gth;’ vd;W khh;jl;bf;nfhs;tJ. Njhw;why; ‘kf;fs; mtiu Vw;Wf;nfhs;stpy;iy’ vd;W jl;bfopj;JtpLtJ.

Mdhy; nghJj; Njh;jy; $j;jikg;Gf;fhuhpd; tho;NthL tpisahLtJ Nghy. mtuth; fsj;jpy; ,wq;fNtz;Lk;. ,dg;gpur;rpidnad;Dk; rpuq;if ahh; ahh; nfl;bj;jdkhf nrhwpe;JtpLfpwhh;fNsh mth;fSf;Nf ghuhSkd;w fjpiu! ,e;j rpuq;if rpwg;ghf nrhwpe;JtpLtjpy; Kjd;ikahdth;fSk; Kd;dpiy tfpg;gth;fSkhd $j;jikg;G jdpj;Jg;Nghl;bapLk; vd;gjpy; vtUf;Fk; ve;j IaKk; voj;Njitapy;iy.

gy goq;fisj; jpd;W nfhl;ilfisg; Nghl;Lf;nfhz;bUf;Fk; rk;ge;jdhfl;Lk; my;yJ ,g;gj;jhd; nfhl;ilia #g;gpf;nfhz;bUf;Fk; RNu]; gpNukr;re;jpud;> Fjpiu – fjpiu nghd;dk;gyq;fs; tiu nrhwpe;JtpLtjpy; nfl;bf;fhuh;fs;. thapy; thzPh; Cw nrhwptpd; Rfj;ij mDgtpf;Fk; jkpod; nrhwptpd; vhpitAk; NtjidiaAk; mDgtpf;Fk;NghJ rk;ge;jd; Ngha;Nrh;e;jpUg;ghh;! rk;ge;jd;u ,lj;Jf;F RNu]; gpNukr;re;jpud; te;jpUg;ghh;! ,Jjhd; murpay; tpyhq;fpay;!

,dp ,e;j 22 $j;jikg;G ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fspy; ahh; ahiu fol;btplg;Nghfpwhh;fs; vd;gJ njhlh;ghd rpwpa mDkhdk;: ,zf;fg;ghl;L murpaYf;F Kjy;fhyb vLj;Jitf;fj; Jzpe;j $j;jikg;G ghuhSkd;w cWg;gpdh;fshd rpth[pypq;fk;> rpwpfhe;jh MfpNahh; $j;jikg;G Ntl;ghsh;fshf fsj;jpy; epw;fg;Nghjpy;iy.

fjpiuf; fN[e;jpud; jg;gpdhh;. mtUila KjyhtJk; Kjd;ikahdJkhd jFjpNa mtnuhU Nkl;Lf;Fb Fbkfd;. Nghd]hf mtUf;F Mq;fpyKk; rpq;fsKk; ruskhff; fijf;ff;$bath; nfhQ;rk; jkpOk; njhpAk;. ghtk; Fjpiuf; fN[e;jpud; jhd;. rpWgps;isj; jdkhd Ngr;rhYk; Fuq;Fr; Nrl;ilahYk; ,tUf;F Mg;Gj;jhd;. MdhYk; ,jpnyhU rpf;fy; ,Uf;fpwJ.

$j;jikg;G> gj;jkpdp rpjk;guehjid fol;btplNt ,Wjptiu Kaw;rpf;Fk;. ,Ug;gpDk; XusTf;F gpugy;ak; mile;Jtpl;l ngz; Ntl;ghsh;> Mrphpah;. vy;yhtw;Wf;Fk; Nkyhf rpjk;guehjdpd; Jiztpahh;. rpjk;guehjd; ahnud;W njhpANkh? (njhpahl;by; aho;g;ghzj;Jf;F Nghdg;Nghl;L Nfl;lhy; njhpAk;) gj;kpdp Ntl;ghsuhf njhpTnra;ag;gl;lhy; mth; jdf;Fj; Jizahf Fjpiuf; fN[e;jpuidAk; Ntl;ghsuhf epakpg;gjw;F jdJ rfy m];jpuq;fisAk; gpuNahfpg;gjw;F tha;g;gpUf;fpwJ. ,g;g Fjpiuf;Fk; gj;kpdpf;Fk; vd;d njhlh;G vd;W ePq;fs; Nfl;fyhk;? Cq;fspd; Nfs;tpapNyNa gjpYk; ,Uf;fpwJ mt;tsTjhd;.

Gul;rp ‘tz;b’f;fhud; RNu]pd; epyik vd;d? vd;w vz;zk; cq;fSf;Fj; Njhd;wpdhy; ePq;fs; murpaiy cd;dpg;ghf ftdpj;jhYk; murpay;thjpfis ftdpf;ftpy;iy vd;Wjhd; mh;j;jk;. rk;ge;jd; gLf;iff;Fk; ff;$Rf;Fk; kl;Lk;jhd; jdpikapy;Nghfpwhh;. kw;Wg;gb ve;NeuKk; RNu]; xl;bf;nfhz;LtpLfpwhh;. xUNtis tug;NghFk; nghJj;Njh;jYf;F gpwF eilngWk; nghJj;Njh;jypy; rk;ge;jd; ,Ue;jhy; RNu]pd; jait ehlNtz;bNaw;glyhk; ahh; fz;lhh;?

,d;ndhU RthurpaKk; eilngwTs;sJ. $l;lzpj; jiyth; Mde;jrq;fhp ,f;$l;lj;Jld; xl;bf;nfhs;tjw;fhd tha;g;G. Mde;jrq;fhpAk; rk;gd;jDk; neUf;fkhd ez;gh;fs;. ,ilapy; jkpo;nry;tDld; Vw;gl;l neUf;fj;jhy; Mde;jrq;fhp fho;g;Gzh;T nfhz;bUe;jhYk; jw;NghJ epiyik khwpapUf;fpwJ. tpLgl;l neUf;fk; kPz;Lk; ,ize;jpUf;fpwJ. MAjk; jhq;fpa Kd;dhs; gpuKfh; vd;why; Mde;jrq;fhpf;F mNyh;[p vd;whYk; ‘vd;Dld; thg;gh’ vd;W rk;ge;jd; Mirahf miog;gij Mde;jrq;fhpahy; jl;lKbAnkd;wh epidf;fpwPh;fs;?

$j;jikg;G cWg;gpdh;fs; ,dthjg; Ngr;Rf;fis jtph;g;gJ ey;yJ> jkpo; kf;fspd; vjph;fhyj;jpy; tpisahl Ntz;lhk; vDk; Mde;jrq;fhp jkpo; kf;fs;kPJ mf;fiwFilatuhf ,Ue;jhYk;> mtUf;F ghuhSkd;wf; fjpiuapy;yhky; if Rk;khapUf;fhJ vdNt mtUf;fpUf;fpw xNu njhpT rk;ge;jDld; Cly;nfhs;tJjhd;. ,d;ndhU njhpTk; ,Uf;fpwJ. $l;lzpapd; ngahpNyNa Njh;jy; fskpwq;FtJ. ,J nrd;wKiw nghJj; Njh;jiyg;Nghy fhiythhptplhJ vd;gjw;fhd ve;j cj;juthjKk; ,y;iy.

,t;tplj;jpy; ,d;ndhd;iwAk; Rl;bf;fhl;lyhk;. rk;ge;jDk; jkpoh;fspd; vjph;fhyk; gw;wpa rpwpa mf;fiwAilatuhf ,Ue;jhYk; mtUld; $l ,Ug;gth;fspd; fpLq;Fg;gpbapdhy; mtuhy; ,dthjrfjpapypUe;J tpLglKbahJ xd;W> ,uz;L jkpo; ,dthj Clfq;fspd; mDf;fpufk; ,Ue;jhy;jhd; jhd; njhlh;e;Jk; jkpo; kf;fs; kj;jpapy; gpufhrpf;f KbAk; vd;w #o;r;rpiatpl;L ntspNawj; Jzpahjth;.

vdNt ,jpy; $j;jikg;gpy; rhh;gpy; ‘Kf;fpa’ Gs;spfs; ghuhSkd;wk; njhpthth;fs;. Rj;jpr; Rj;jp Rg;gw;u nfhy;Nyf;f vd;gJNghy jkpo; kf;fs; Rg;gw;u nfhy;Nyf;f mdhjuthf tplg;gLthh;fs;. jkpoh;fs; czh;r;rpfSf;F ,yFthf mbikg;glf;$bath;fs;. vg;Ngh mtd; czh;r;rpfis iftpl;L mwpThPjpahf rpe;jpj;J nraw;gLthNdh mg;NghJjhd; mtdJ tpLjiynad;gJ rhj;jpag;gLk;.

,jpy; ,d;Dnkhd;iwAk; Rl;bf;fhl;lyhk;> a+vd;gp Ml;rpaikf;f $j;jikg;gpd; jaT Ntz;bapUe;jhy; $j;jikg;G jhuhskhfNt ‘mijf;’nfhLf;Fk;. [dhjpgjp uh[gf;rTf;F ‘fbthsk;’ Nghlj;jhd; ehk; a+vd;gpf;F MjuT nfhLf;fpNwhk; vd;W ,ypr;rthad; fhjpy g+r;Rw;Wthh;fs; vd;gJ jpz;zk;.

Nkw;$wpa jkpopdthj murpay;Nghf;if vjph;j;J epw;ff;$ba rf;jp jkpoh; gf;fKk; ,Uf;fpwJ Mdhy; mJ xd;Wjpul;lKbahj JHg;ghf;fpa epiyikNa ,d;Wtiu epyTfpwJ.

Gnshl; kw;Wk; …….

tpkh;rdq;fSf;F mg;ghw;gl;ljy;y

fle;j nghJj; Njh;jypy; ,th;fis xd;wpizj;J Nghl;bapl gy el;G rf;jpfs; Kaw;rpj;jd. mJ if$bapUe;jhy; Fiwe;jJ ,uz;Lf;F Nkw;gl;l ghuhSkd;w Mrdq;fisg; ngw;wpUf;f KbAk; vd;gJ gyuJ Mzpj;jukhd ek;gpf;if.

,k;KiwAk; lf;s]; Njthde;jh nghJj; Njh;jypy; jdpj;Jg;Nghl;baplj;jhd; jPh;khdpf;ff;$Lk;. xd;wpizg;gjpy; nghWikahf Kaw;rpg;Nghk;. my;yJ nghWj;jpUe;J ghh;g;Nghk;.

Gnshl; fLikahd tpkh;rdq;fis vjph;nfhz;bUf;fpwJ. jw;Nghija jiyth; jh;kypq;fk; rpj;jhj;jd; ‘vkJ iffs; fiwgbe;jJjhd; Mdhy; ,dpNkYk; mjid fiwgbahky; ghh;j;Jf;nfhs;Nthk;’ vd;W jdJ murpay; gf;Ftj;ij ntspf;fhl;bapUf;fpwhh;. Gnshl;bd; fle;jfhy fLikahd nraw;ghLfs; vy;Nyhh; kdjpYk; neUbf;nfhz;bUe;jhYk; Gnshl; fLikahd ciog;gpd; %yk; kf;fspd; kdq;fis nty;yNtz;Lk;.

‘Jwe;J’tpl;L Xbafspd; gpd;dh;

tlf;ifg;nghWj;jtiu Gnshl; kw;Wk; ‘,ye;j Ks;isj; jpUg;gpdhYk; ,th;fisj; jpUj;j KbahJ’ vd;W thshjpUf;f KbahJ. fle;j nghJj; Njh;jypy; Kaw;rpj;j rf;jpfs; kPz;LnkhUKiw ,th;fis xd;wpizg;gjw;F Kaw;rpf;f Ntz;Lk;. ,th;fis xd;wpizAkhW gytopfspYk; Kd; Kaw;rpfs; - tw;GWj;jy;fs; Nkw;nfhs;sg;glNtz;Lk;. mg;NghJjhd; $j;jikg;gpw;F rtyhd xU murpay; rf;jpia ehk; fskpwf;f KbAk;.

Pathways of dominance: 'Pathways of Dissent' edited by R.Cheran

2010-02-03T09:05:00.000-08:00

By: Sivamohan Sumathy

On 19 May 2009, with the violent deaths of the top rung of the LTTE leadership, including that of its leader V Prabhakaran, Sri Lanka’s 30-year-old civil war came to an abrupt end. While the conclusion was a traumatic event for many in the country – not necessarily because of the destruction of the LTTE, but because of the huge loss of life and immense suffering of roughly 300,000 people, as well as the sheer scale of the breakdown of social cohesion – it also ushered in an era of possibilities, particularly in rethinking the pathways of nationalism. With these ideas in mind, this reviewer began to read Pathways of Dissent, edited by the sociologist R Cheran.

What would one expect from a volume on Tamil nationalism at this critical juncture? Having written and worked on this subject for many years, wading through the volume proved to be frustrating. The work provides no direction to any one of the burning questions that are currently posed for the academic or the activist situated at the cusp of the post-war political scenario. This is distressing, as so many are today seeking answers to questions that became so pressing in the context of the disastrous conclusion to the war. At that time, the Tamil diaspora, again paying scant attention to the lives of these people, turned out in their hundreds of thousands in the capitals of Europe and Canada to demand the release of Prabhakaran. What had gone so wrong with Tamil nationalism that it had became consonant with the actions and imperatives of LTTE and Prabhakaran? Unfortunately, although the essays of this volume were written fairly recently, they do not touch upon the destructive path that Tamil nationalism has long been taking, particularly in the new millennium.

The academic allure of the title’s use of the term dissent provides an analytical entry point into the volume and the entire project of Tamil nationalism. Dissent has a political salience that is useful and productive, particularly at this juncture of charting new directions for those who work with and within the idea of a Tamil nation. The sweeping hegemony of Jaffna-centrism dominant in the volume contradicts the idea of dissent, striking a note of dissonance from the very beginning. This bias is no accident – if all the chapters, barring one, take Jaffna as their focus, they do so not in the spirit of dissent, nor to scrutinise its dominant place in the narrative of nationalism. Rather, through academic sleight of hand, they do so to reinforce its dominance.

Dissent without resistance
Let us begin with Cheran’s introduction to the volume, which provides the framework for the subsequent chapters. Interestingly – and perhaps inevitably, given the very linear narrative of the history he charts – Cheran’s trajectory of Tamil nationalism collapses itself into the imperatives and dominance of the LTTE within the Tamil nationalist scenario, following the familiar nationalist path of recounting the ‘textbook’ version of the Sri Lankan Tamils’ history. Though certain class and caste implications of nationalism are signalled in the manner of political correctness, Cheran’s approach itself does not plug the dissonances of caste and class as a theoretical device of inquiry.

While Cheran’s introduction lays the foundation for such a reading, the chapters of the book fall neatly into a linear, historicist paradigm. Both S K Sitrampalam (a historian) and V Nithiyanandam (an economist) approach the issue from the ‘root causes’ angle, posing the question: How did Tamil nationalism emerge? Loosely reactive and focusing on the formation of the Sinhalese state, the essays by Sitrampalam and Nithiyanandam – which, respectively, look at the historical and archaeological, and the economic angles of the rise of the so-called Tamil nation – chart little that would speak to the varying forces that sit uneasily within that ‘nation’. Nithiyanandam attempts to trace the historical formation of the economy of the Jaffna as a separate socio-political entity; he gives little sense of the political economy of the entire region as a historical force that nourished and pushed the emergence of Tamil nationalism in multiple ways. Once again, it is a Jaffna-centric approach that prevails.

On the political front, the chapters on militancy are disappointing. Ravi Vaitheespara’s “Towards Understanding Militant Tamil Nationalism in Sri Lanka” is contradictory and strangely un-analytical. Its attack on the activist-scholar authors of the seminal The Broken Palmyra (1989) and the widely respected University Teachers for Human Rights (Jaffna), the UTHR (J), is partisan, disguising its nationalist rhetoric in a thinly veiled populist brand of leftwing discourse.

Sidharthan Maunaguru’s essay, “Brides as Bridges?”, is anthropological and focuses on evolving generational patterns in trans-nationality. It is, once again, passive on the political front. While it provides some insight into movements of people that go beyond the boundaries of territoriality, what the writer envisions as its impact on the construct of the Tamil ‘nation’ remains unclear. Similarly, Rajesh Venugopal’s chapter on the neo-liberal economy brings up certain interesting questions regarding the anxieties of statist nationalism, the structural framework of the LTTE during the peace process of 2002-06. However, it stops short of pushing this analysis through to its logical conclusion, the unviability of the nation state as envisioned by the LTTE and separatist Tamil nationalists.

Daniel Bass’s essay on the Malaiyaha (Up-country Tamil) community is perhaps the only chapter that strikes a discordant chord in this volume, questioning the idea of the ‘monolith’ of the Tamil nation in its entirety. While one could not call it dissenting in the way suggested earlier, his chapter on the marginalised Tamil community of plantation workers does depart from Jaffna-centrism in a critical fashion. Academically speaking, Bass moves from tracing the genealogy of nation-making through the act of enumeration as initiated by the colonial government (his contribution is titled “Making Sense of the Census”), to broader more contemporary notions of citizenship and belonging to Sri Lanka. The essay does not directly allude to the project of nationalism until the very end, when he concludes with “the rise of a distinct up-country Tamil ethnic identity has ... undermined the supposedly pan-Tamil appeal of Sri Lankan Tamil nationalism, while providing a counterpoint to dominant discourses of Tamil identity.”

The chapters on literature and art raise interesting issues but are ultimately disappointing. Chelva Kanaganayakam’s chapter on the literatures of the nation is selective and, both wittingly and unwittingly, makes a case for homogeneity. On the contrary, T Shanaathanan’s “Painting the Artist’s Self” reveals an engaged reading of the emergence of the artist as Tamil. His historiography of the artist is interesting, but when it comes to Shanaathanan’s theoretically marked commentary, one is let down. For example, the “fragment and the collage” that Shanaathanan says had come to dominate the Sri Lankan scene during the 1990s is understood in purely formal terms. He repeats clichés such as “In post-traditional societies individualization of the artist is also associated with commercialization and commodification of art work. In post-colonial societies it also directly or indirectly is connected with emerging nationalist sentiments.” Of course, one could ignore this as marginalia and look for something more substantial and theoretically sustained in the crux of his essay. But one is left with a sense of dissatisfaction, feeling engulfed by the overarching inevitability of the nationalist discourse in any narrative of the Tamil.

Nimanthi Rajasingam and Radhika Coomarasamy’s chapter, “Being Tamil in a Different Way”, looks at the ramifications of gender in colonial and postcolonial times and, importantly, during militancy. While it is historical and largely a literature survey, it is perhaps the only chapter in this volume that talks about dissent as resistance within the Tamil community. While one might have asked for a greater intimacy with the material and a more engaged positioning, this chapter undoubtedly represents an inquiry into dominance and dissent through the subversive category of gender, which is lacking in the rest of the volume.

Invisible Muslims
In addition to caste, which is dealt with only cursorily and tellingly suppressed, one of the central absences of the volume is any work on Sri Lanka’s Muslim community. A glaring omission, this is also an admission of the overarching politics of dominance of the volume. Why are the Muslims so important? Politically, Muslims posed a challenge to the hegemony of Tamil nationalism, both from within and without. Laying claim to the north and east as their homeland, the Muslim polities provided an alternative reading of Tamil nationalism and its framings that could have been productively exploited by those who worked on Pathways of Dissent. Indeed, the resounding silence on Muslims has an intricate connection with the Jaffna-centrism of the volume as a whole. Its nationalistic platform, which refuses to take even the east as a full-fledged category for inquiry, is an additional aspect of this.

The east, after all, provides a counterpoint to the domination of the Tamil nationalism. More multiethnic than Jaffna in the conventional sense, a serious engagement with the happenings in the east could have opened up illuminating faultlines. Tamil nationalism in the east has had a chequered career, and has posed great challenges to the myth of the cohesiveness of the nation. In deciding to focus almost exclusively on the north, particularly Jaffna, this work was able to conveniently sidestep the complexities informing the fraught unity of the nation and the challenges of the Muslim polity, including the mass eviction of upwards of 85,000 Muslims from the north, in 1990 (See accompanying article, “Ignoring two decades”). It is interesting that Kanaganayakam omits prominent Muslim literary figures in his piece on literature, including several writers who have brought in an inquiring note to the literary quest of nation-(un)making.

All in all, the title Pathways of Dissent is both politically hegemonic and academically wanting, as the volume does not in any way touch upon the critical tools afforded by dissent. Another work is clearly needed in order to bring that critical thrust into the analysis of Tamil nationalism.

Sivamohan Sumathy teaches literature, critical theory, theatre and film theory at the University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka. Her works include Thin Veils, like myth and mother, Piralayam and Oranges.

Courtesy: http://www.himalmag.com

Post election notes

2010-02-03T02:55:00.000-08:00

Samanmalee Unanthenna

University of Colombo / University of Heidelberg

“Never has our future been more unpredictable, never have we depended so much on political forces that cannot be trusted to follow the rules of common sense and self-interest-forces that look like sheer insanity, if judged by the standards of other centuries. It is as though mankind had divided itself between those who believe in human omnipotence (who think that everything is possible if one knows how to organise masses for it) and those for whom powerlessness has become the major experience of their lives”

Hannah Arendt, Origins of Totalitarianism

As the dust is settling after what was a vicious Presidential campaign the rumour mill is working at its hardest and also analyses of various shades are being presented. The mood is odd: triumphant yet revengeful on one side; shock, disbelief and defiance on the other.

But what of us? What about those of us who spoke out to stem the erosion of democracy and the emerging totalitarian characteristics of the MR regime? Is it all over for us? Do we give up the fight now? Do we go back to pursuing our individual ambitions and goals, shed any pretence of trying to work for change and allow cynicism to take over? I must say there was a moment on the 27^th of January, when I felt hopeless; when I questioned the point of fighting what seemed to be insurmountable odds; when it seemed as if we had lost our last chance to fight for a small space.

But now I think, this is perhaps a moment when losing hope or giving up means surrendering not just our lives but our souls to the workings of a totalitarian regime. When what we MUST believe that what we do and discuss in our homes, at work may transform what may happen not at the next election but what happens in hopefully 6 (but more realistically 8) years. If there is one lesson we should take from this Presidential campaign is that there are no short cuts; that restoring democracy, law and order and decency cannot happen in 2 months. That we are in this for the long haul.

One thing we need to remember in analysing the election results is the corruption of the MR campaign. While there have been positive and useful analyses of the election results there have also been some uninformed sweeping statements being made regarding the causes for SF to lose. This type of superficial analysis in my mind is not just misleading but dangerous in that it obfuscates what really happened and the real villainy. Let us be clear on one point at least: this has been the most corrupt election campaign ever in Sri Lanka for several reasons which I pointed out in my previous article as well. That is what lead to SF losing and nothing else. It is worthwhile to reiterate the many reasons why I describe this election as corrupt:

1. The shameless disregarding of the Supreme Court judgement directing the state media and the removal of the Competent Authority the Commissioner appointed to ensure unbiased reporting of state media since he was unable to do his job.

2. The state media completely violating election laws and continuing to promote MR after the 23^rd of Jan when all campaigning had to stop.

3. Ignoring the request by the Commissioner to not to use state officials, public resources and funds for the election campaign.

4. The role of the state media not only in restricting the opposition’s access but in deliberately and systematically broadcasting programmes that spread propaganda for the MR campaign while attacking SF and his campaign. No calculation has been made as to this impact of this in influencing the electorate.

5. The use of the police and armed forces for the MR campaign leading to the extremely dangerous politicisation of the armed forces for the first time in Sri Lankan history.

6. Increasing public officials salaries during the campaign, entertaining them at Temple Trees, launching ‘development’ projects etc: in short, bribing the public

7. The state media casting doubts as to the validity of SF’s candidature due to his failure to vote on the afternoon of election day. This was constantly broadcast over the media during the afternoon and clarifications from the former Chief Justice and the Elections Commissioner rejecting this insinuation were not broadcast on state media. Again, we do not know what impact this had on the final result.

Conclusions regarding the freeness and the fairness of the election have to take into consideration all these factors and not just what happened on the election day. The judgement of election observers, so called political analysts, the media and even political leaders that this was a ‘free and fair’ election needs to be therefore seriously questioned.

The extremely serious question that is before us all now is whether it is possible at all to have a free and fair election under these circumstances. Judging from the behaviour of the MR regime, all indications are that they are in no mood to relent, and that what we can expect is a hardening of attitudes driven by confidence that they can get away with blatant acts of corruption, intimidation and disregard for the laws of the country. The machine is well oiled, practiced and ready to roll on. This means that the ability of Sri Lanka to hitherto effect changes of government through the electoral process has been seriously compromised. This is the most dangerous situation we can find ourselves in.

So what do we do? If there is any sense of responsibility among us, then it is clear that generating a public demand for things such as the implementation of the 17^th Amendment, formulation of the Right to Information Act, independence and accountability from the judiciary and public service has to be our rallying point. We have to demand these things in different and diverse ways. And this is not going to happen before the general election. This requires working relentlessly for the next several years. It requires public agitation and creating a groundswell of support for these causes.

How do we do this one may ask. Well, each one of us will have to come up with creative ways to engage in these issues. Keeping in mind that all such initiatives will be monitored, suppressed and that the mainstream media will not be functioning independently we will have to think of alternative forms of communication. And when we do that, do not forget that the majority of citizens will not have access to the internet. Yes, it may seem impossible right now. But I ask you, what alternative do we have? Yes, we can choose to give up- but that means that the totalitarian project has won. But never let us forget in the words of Hannah Arendt that “Totalitarian domination, like tyranny, bears the germs of its own destruction” (Arendt, Origins of Totalitarianism, 1968:478). Nurturing and setting free those germs of destruction in whatever way we can is our task for the next several years.

Thank you to all of those who have written back to me and I apologise for not responding to you individually. Your encouragement I appreciate very much and your criticisms I take with good grace. We may never meet face to face, but we can give each other strength through these challenging and difficult times. Above all, we owe it to ourselves not to give up or give in.

30^th January 2010