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Sri Lanka After the War

15 February 2009

Sri Lanka After the War

By Gwynne Dyer

The greatest mistakes are made on the morrow of the greatest victories. Sri Lanka is now approaching a decisive victory in its 26-year war against Tamil separatism, and it is about to make a very big mistake.

“While separatist terrorism must be eradicated,” wrote Lasantha Wickrematunge, editor of the Sunday Leader, “it is important to address the root causes of terrorism, and urge government to view Sri Lanka’s ethnic strife in the context of history and not through the telescope of terrorism. We have agitated against state terrorism in the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horror that Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb its own citizens.”

Wickrematunge left that on his computer, to be published if he was murdered, which he duly was last month. He knew it was going to happen, and he believed that he knew who would be responsible: the government. Which is why he addressed President Mahinda Rajapaksa directly in his post-mortem article.

It was the first time that most of Wickrematunge’s readers learned that he and the president had been close friends for a quarter-century.

Indeed, they regularly met late at night at the president’s house, alone or with a few other old friends.

“In the wake of my death,” Wickrematunge wrote, “I know you (President Rajapaksa) will make all the usual sanctimonious noises…but like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of this one. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. [Almost certainly Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa, the president’s brother.] Not just my life but yours too depends on it.”

Like the United States under President Bush, Sri Lanka has ceased to respect the law in its fight against “terrorism”. Since the Tamil minority began fighting for a separate state in 1983, over 70,000 people have been killed in Sri Lanka, the majority of them civilians — and since President Rajapaksa took power in 2004 fourteen journalists have been murdered by unknown assailants.

Rajapaksa is now on the brink of destroying the rebel army, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (“Tamil Tigers”). Even one year ago they still controlled some 15,000 sq. km (6,000 sq. mi) in the north and north-east of the island, where they maintained all the institutions of a sovereign state. But the relentless offensive of the Sri Lankan army has now reduced them to only a couple of hundred square kilometres (less than a hundred square miles) of territory.

Within a week or two, that will be gone too, and what remains of the Tamil Tigers will no longer control a pseudo-state. Good riddance, for they were brutal extremists who killed their own Tamil people, in order to enforce unquestioning obedience, just as readily as their suicide bombers killed the majority Sinhalese population. But that doesn’t mean that Sri Lanka can just go back to the kind of country it was before the fighting began in 1983. The Tamils had a reason to revolt.

Tamil-speaking Hindus have been part of Sri Lanka’s complex ethnic and religious mosaic for centuries, but they are only 12 percent of the population. They got along well enough with the Sinhalese-speaking, Buddhist majority when the island was first united under British imperial rule in the early 19th century, but after that the relationship went rapidly downhill.

The British, in typical divide-and-rule style, favoured the Tamil minority in education and in civil service jobs. Sinhalese resentment grew rapidly, and the first Sinhalese-Tamil riots were in 1939. As in the subsequent bouts of killing, most of the victims were Tamils.

Once independence arrived in 1948, the Sinhalese used their majority to pass laws giving members of their own community preference for university entrance and government jobs, and Sinhala was declared the sole national language. As Sinhalese and Tamil ethnic nationalism grew more extreme, some of the riots in the 1960s and 1970s verged on anti-Tamil pogroms.

By the late 1970s the process of setting up a shadow Tamil state in the north and north-east had begun. Open war broke out in 1983, with the Tamil Tigers rapidly eliminating the rival Tamil separatist groups and establishing totalitarian control over the population under their rule.

Twenty-six years later, the Tamil Tigers’ army has finally been crushed, and the Sri Lankan state (in practice, the Sinhalese state) is triumphant. But the 12 percent of the population who are Tamils will still not accept unequal status, and they are not going away.

This is the time when a peace that gives the Tamils equal rights and autonomous local governments in the areas where they are a majority could secure the country’s future, but it is most unlikely to happen.

Sinhalese nationalism is as intolerant as ever, and now it is triumphalist to boot. Moreover, the rapid growth of a “national security state” under President Rajapakse has undermined democracy and largely silenced criticism of government policies. The forecast, therefore, is for a reversion to guerilla war in the north, and continuing campaigns of murder by both the government and Tamil extremists in the rest of the country.

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To shorten to 725 words, omit paragraphs 4, 6 and 10. (“It was…friends”; “Like…assailants”; and “The British…Tamils”)

Sri Lanka: A Fake Crisis

6 November 2003

Sri Lanka: A Fake Crisis

By Gwynne Dyer

It seems like a textbook case of a coup. While the elected leader of the government is out of the country, the president suspends parliament, fires the ministers of defence, information and interior and takes over their departments, and puts troops on the streets of the capital to guard the state television station. The next day she declares a state of emergency that gives her the right to jail people for up to a year without charge “to prevent a further deterioration of the security situation.” At this point in the process, usually, the police are going around with lists of government opponents kicking doors in, and a lot of people are going into hiding.

Not in Sri Lanka, which has been democratic since independence 55 years ago. Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe didn’t even bother to rush home from Washington, where he was meeting President Bush. “This is not the first crisis I have had,” he said when he got the bad news on 4 November. “When I go back, I’ll sort it out.” He probably will, too.

Things are less bad than they seem in Sri Lanka. Nobody has actually been arrested under the state of emergency (which expires after ten days anyway). The parliament was only suspended for two weeks, and when it meets again on 19 November the majority of its members are going to be very cross indeed at President Chandrika Kumaratunga. By then Prime Minister Wickremesinghe will be home, and unless the Tamil Tigers do something really stupid the crisis will be over.

The Tamil Tigers (formally the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam — LTTE) are what this crisis is all about. After twenty years of war, the guerilla leaders who have established their control of the Tamil-speaking, largely Hindu minority in the north-east of the island have accepted that the changed global attitude towards terrorism post-9/11 means that they are not going to win their war for independence, at least not in this generation. For the past twenty months, there has been a cease-fire while they try to cut a deal for autonomy within Sri Lanka.

Prime Minister Wickremeshinghe is ready to cut a deal too, recognising that a clear-cut military victory over the LTTE is impossible. Most of the Buddhist, Sinhala-speaking majority in Sri Lanka profoundly dislikes any change that seems to threaten the unity of the country, but they have also watched for a whole generation as the country of some 20 million people consistently failed to fulfill its promise of becoming another Asian ‘tiger’. They are sick of slow growth and constant death (an average of ten people killed by the war each day for twenty years), so in 2001 they turned their back on the hard-liners and voted for Wickremesinghe’s United National Party.

Until then President Kumaratunga, the heiress of a political dynasty that has always beaten the Sinhalese nationalist drum, had it all her own way, with her Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) in control of the parliament and her elderly mother as prime minister. She used her almost unbridled power to launch an all-out, years-long offensive against the LTTE in search of a decisive military victory, and ended up proving to most people’s satisfaction that it could not be done. By the end of the 90s, the Sri Lankan army was suffering humiliating routs and experiencing mass desertions, so the voters abandoned her.

Ranil Wickremesinghe was elected prime minister in 2001 with a mandate to negotiate peace, and with the assistance of Norwegian mediators he had a cease-fire by the end of the year. The talks have been difficult, but there has been no shooting in Sri Lanka for almost two years now and the LTTE has publicly dropped its demand for independence. Since Wickremesinghe’s government has also conceded that there will be some kind of autonomy for the Tamils within Sri Lanka, the rest should be just a prolonged haggle — and the return of peace had already unleashed an economic boom that was making the whole process acceptable to even dedicated Sinhalese nationalists.

But not to President Kumaratunga (who has lost her husband and an eye to the LTTE in separate attacks). Her party has rejected the peace talks with the LTTE, condemning the Norwegian mediators as ‘salmon-eating busybodies’. And she has seized the opportunity of Prime Minister Wickremeshinghe’s absence abroad to stage a provocation — it’s not really a coup — in the hope that she can trick the Tamil leadership into walking out of the talks.

The pretext for her dramatic move was the publication of the LTTE’s proposals for the kind of autonomy that the Tamil province should have. It was more than most Sinhalese would want to grant, naturally enough, being the statement of a negotiating position, but Kumaratunga declared that it meant “a further deterioration of the security situation” and acted. The headlines blared and the Sri Lankan stock market crashed, but it isn’t going to work.

It won’t work because the LTTE knows that she’s bluffing, and that Wickremesinghe will not be diverted by the nonsense. Every action Kumaratunga has taken is legally within the rights of the president, but she can’t keep it up very long without parliament’s agreement — and well over half the members of parliament have already signed a letter condemning her actions. Normal service in Sri Lanka will soon be restored.

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To shorten to 725 words, omit paragraphs 6 and 9. (“Until…her”; and “The pretext…work”)