Journey Without a Destination: Is there a solution for Sri Lankan refugees? (Chapters 6 and 7 and Bibliography)

 

Chapter 6: Tamil Eelam: the only solution, or part of the problem?

There were some Tamil refugees – not many, but a few – who felt that the only solution to the problem of decades of discrimination against and persecution of Tamils was the creation of a separate Tamil state: 

Are there any prospects for a positive change in the future?

 

• If there is a separate homeland. Before the British came, we were separate, and we were united only because of their regime. So it’s better for us to live separately… Most Sinhalese don’t like the idea of a separate state, but at the same time they won’t give any equal opportunities or rights to the Tamils either. 

You think most Sinhalese people are like that?

 

Yes. The government last year promised to give some devolution of power, but it is in writing only – in practice they don’t give it… they won’t ever give equal opportunities. 

So you think the only solution is to have a separate Tamil state?

 

Yes. Then we can be good neighbours. Otherwise Sinhalese and Tamils will always be fighting. But we can be friendly neighbours if we have a separate state.

• First the Indian army must leave the country, and the Tamils must get a separate state… On the whole the civilians – the ordinary Sinhalese – are very good people. But the government policies have changed the country.

 

• If there is a peaceful solution, Sinhalese and Tamils can live alongside each other peacefully. 

Do you think the majority of ordinary Sinhalese people feel hostile to Tamils?

 

No… But the Tamils can live peacefully only if they get a separate state. 

Does that mean you think they can’t live peacefully in a united Sri Lanka?

 

No, I don’t think they can. However the Sinhalese got that anti-Tamil feeling, it will cause problems.

 

• If they can get [a separate state], that’s really good. But I don’t think you should get violent, using weapons and all that kind of thing. 

Have you had any Sinhalese friends, colleagues or neighbours?

 

Not in Jaffna, but after coming to Colombo, yes. One of my uncles is married to a Sinhalese, and my grandma has a Sinhalese friend who was staying with us. We get on quite all right with Sinhalese people… They were quite helpful in Sri Lanka – you know, for getting into the government pension office or whatever, you need Sinhalese people’s influence. Sinhalese people in various departments have helped us – that sort of help. 

But you don’t think it’s possible for Sinhalese and Tamils to live alongside each other peacefully?

 

I would like to. I think most people want to, but they can’t.

 

• If the government decides to agree to separation, it will be okay; otherwise the fighting will continue – they’re going to fight. If there is a separate state, we can be happy – I think so… Sinhalese people are okay, but the government has created the problem, and now some of them are also against the Tamils. But some of them understand that the government has made this problem, they accept that the government has to solve this problem. 

Do you think it’s possible for Sinhalese and Tamils to live alongside each other?

 

Not now… not in the future. No. The government made this situation, and now we can’t change it.

 

• The only solution is an independent Tamil state. Not autonomy but self-determination – a separate state. Because we have a history, and we have lost our property, our people, our culture – so far, we have lost everything. Now we have nothing to lose. So that’s the only solution. The only solution is for the Sinhalese and India to give and accept independence, so that we can live together. Otherwise we can’t. They must accept it, and give us an assurance that we can live with each other. They must first accept us as an independent state, and then we can decide whether we can join together in any way. Tamil Eelam and Sri Lanka and India – three states – that must be how we decide in future. If you don’t accept this, and you ask us to live in one country with autonomy, that is not good enough. Because if you don’t accept our independence, that means you are not willing to give anything…

    We always like to live with each other – but not in one country. You see, now in Europe there is the EEC; they don’t have to give up their independence when they join, only in some aspects they join and participate.

 

• I think the only solution is if India will accept, and the Sri Lankan government will accept, Tamils’ self-determination… First [the Sinhalese] must accept our independent state: self-determination. I think the ball is in their court now.

 

• If the Indian army leaves, and there’s a separate state, it’ll be okay – the situation will improve.

Is it possible for Sinhalese and Tamil people to live alongside each other peacefully?

 

I don’t think so, now – maybe earlier it was possible. Because ever since the problem started, it has become worse and worse. 

    A few felt that the time had not yet come to give up the quest for other solutions, but saw separation as a last resort if all else failed:

 

• I think the first thing is that the Indian troops should leave. Then the Sinhalese masses must be made to understand that the Tamils are actually part of the country, and they have their own homeland. 

That Sri Lanka is your homeland?

 

Yes, especially the North and East, which are the traditional homelands. And they must be equally treated – not given privileges. Failing which, it’s better to put up a separate state – they will be compelled to do that, there’s no alternative except setting up a separate state where Tamils can live with dignity.

 

• If the discrimination persists and there is no other way, then we have to fight for separation. But if a government is formed with some socialist ideas, and if they’re ready to give equal rights without discrimination, there’s no point going away from the mainstream. 

In any case, separation won’t help Tamils in other parts of the country.

 

That’s right – we have to think of those people also. I don’t say that separatism is the only way; but if there’s no other way – if the majority people in Sri Lanka, the Sinhalese people, are really adamant, and there’s no other way – we have to separate. But I don’t like that! It would be better to have a unified state with equal rights. 

    Vacillation between cynicism and hope sometimes resulted in ambiguity:

What about Tamils whose homes are in predominantly Sinhalese areas? 

 

• I always thought that the separation of Eelam was something like this: like if I want, say, £100 from somebody, I would have always gone for £200… It was a way of bargaining, that’s the way it started. But I don’t think there’s any Tamil in Sri Lanka now who wishes to remain in the South. Should there be a separate Tamil state, I don’t think anybody in their sensible mind would remain.

Have you had any Sinhalese friends, colleagues or neighbours?

 

Yes, in Sri Lanka and Britain too. Most of my friends in school were Sinhalese… They helped my family by hiding our valuables, and keeping all the ladies in their house. That was in Colombo. But things have been different out of Colombo for my relatives… in fact, their neighbours have attacked my relatives. 

Would you think it possible at some future date to live alongside one another in a unified Sri Lanka?

 

It could be a bit tough there, I would have thought, but hopefully yes. It could be a bit difficult, because our views have gone a bit extreme now, haven’t they? I mean either way –  even my Sinhalese friends would think differently now from what they would have thought before. 

    One Tamil woman in a refugee camp saw separation not as a solution to the problem of discrimination and persecution, but as the only way of getting the militants to stop fighting:

 

• If the country isn’t divided, they will go on fighting; so it may be better to divide it!

    But most of the Tamil refugees did not see a separate Tamil state as any part of the solution to their problems, and some were frankly critical of the whole idea:

 

• Whether you are in a separate state, or whether it is a unitary state, we have to live together. So this business of ‘We will be separate’ is utter rubbish! Are they going to put up a palmyra fence from Mannar to Batticaloa? And have pop guns to fight each other? These Tamil nationalists are lunatics! Utter lunatics! And hypocrites – utter hypocrites! 

Has there been a confusion between the idea of self-determination with minority rights, and the idea of state power?

 

Not confusion – they’re not confused. What they want is power! 

    Another refugee added, even more ominously,

 

• When Eelam comes, Tamils will kill Tamils, and more destruction will occur. 

    One can sympathise whole-heartedly with the desire for a homeland in which Tamils can live in peace and dignity. The question, however, is whether this can be achieved by setting up an exclusively Tamil state in the North and East. To begin with, this is no help to the many Tamils suffering persecution in the rest of Sri Lanka; those Tamils who refer to the North and East as the ‘traditional homeland’ of the Tamils seem to forget that this was a term used by racists in South Africa and Israel in order to keep the indigenous people out of the greater part of their own country.

    In Sri Lanka, it likewise has reactionary connotations, implying, as it does, that the whole of Sri Lanka is not the rightful homeland of the Tamil-speaking people of the island, which it historically has been. It is striking how many Tamil refugees in Britain referred longingly to the whole of Sri Lanka as ‘my country,’ ‘my own country,’ ‘our country,’ ‘our own country,’ ‘our home,’ ‘our motherland,’ etc. (see Chapter 3).

    But even for Tamils in the North and East, is Eelam a solution to their problems? I believe the whole concept suffers from a fundamental flaw which has led to the radical degeneration of the separatist struggle. What are the implications of defining it as a Tamil state rather than simply a democratic state in which people of all communities and ethnic groups have equal rights and equal status? One consequence of this ethnic nationalism was evident in the last chapter: massacres of Sinhalese civilians, including little children, have been an ugly feature of the attempt to realise Tamil Eelam. The kind of thinking which can justify such atrocities is exactly the same as the thinking which justifies killing Tamil babies on the grounds that they are Tiger cubs.

    But the drive for ethnic purity in the territory claimed as Tamil Eelam has gone even further: it has been turned against the Tamil-speaking Muslim community. With the breakdown of the ceasefire in June 1990, Muslim civilians in the North and East came under attack. Prior to my visit in 1990, there were reports that on 3rd August the Tigers had massacred over 100 Muslims in two mosques in Kattankudy, and on 13th August they had carried out massacres in three Muslim villages in Eravur (see UTHR (Jaffna) Report No.5, pp. 12, 14).

    Then, during my visit, in one of the most bizarre episodes of the entire war, the Tigers ordered all Muslims out of the Northern Province, threatening that they would be massacred if they didn’t leave. They fled in panic, leaving most of their possessions. I visited some of the camps in Puttalam District, where tens of thousands of them had taken refuge. They were living in settlements of bamboo and mud huts with cadjan roofs; in some camps, two or three families in a hut, in others, a hut per family. Shortage of lavatories seemed to be the biggest problem, lack of water the next, and poor nutrition the third. Everywhere we went, the children were cheerful and extremely friendly, but some looked undernourished and/or badly dressed; most of the younger ones had been placed in local schools.

    In the first camp, we spoke to a group of men and women, all middle-aged to elderly. Some of the women – around 40 of them, mostly one from each family but in some cases more than one – went out to work as labourers in onion and paddy cultivation; a few of the men were also employed in cultivation. Most of the families had been fisher people in Mannar; the women had previously not gone out to work, but some used to make mats, baskets, and so forth, out of ola leaves. There were also five families from Mullaitivu, two tailoring and the rest labourers. They said many Muslims had left Mullaitivu in 1987 due to harassment by the IPKF; they returned in January 1990, but had been driven out again by the fighting in July. The Sinhalese people who had been living there previously had left in 1984.

    The refugees from Mannar said they had no problem with the local Tamils but had lived happily together like brothers and sisters; those from Mullaitivu said that originally Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims had all lived together happily. They felt it was the Tigers who were the problem, not the Tamils; they were afraid of being killed by the Tigers if they went back, but if not for the Tigers, would have liked to return. A few had, in fact, gone back, only to find their homes destroyed and belongings looted. They felt the problem had arisen because the Tigers wanted a separate state which was purely Tamil.

    The inmates at the next camp wanted to engage in agricultural production but were unable to do so because they didn’t have the means to lease land from the local owners. In a third camp, however, they had been able to acquire land, and were growing onions and other crops quite successfully. In another camp there were 100 families, all from a colony in Moor Street, Jaffna, who had come in October 1990. Most of the talking was done by a middle-aged man, leader of the camp; a middle-aged woman also put in a word from time to time. They told us most of the men had been petty traders in Jaffna and were unemployed here, although they managed the camp kade (tiny shop) in rotation. The women had only worked at home in Jaffna, but a few went out to work here. They had never expected anything like this to happen, they said; up to that time, they had lived quite happily alongside their Tamil neighbours.

What about the future?

 

• The future is in God’s hands! 

Would you like to go back?

 

We’re afraid we’ll be killed if we do. 

But if there is peace and your security is assured?

 

Then we would like to go back. 

Have you any idea why the Tigers did this to you?

 

They say it’s because of what the Muslims did to their people in the Eastern Province. 

How did you manage to get away?

 

We walked for about forty miles, partly through the jungle. Then army vehicles helped to bring us here. 

    The Muslim camps in and near Colombo were very similar to the Tamil camps. In one, I spoke to a group of young women; one of them had come from Mannar, but the rest were all from Jaffna. They said the Tigers had called a meeting in a school on October 31, 1990, and told them to leave in two hours, taking only their clothes; apparently the Tigers had said, ‘Muslims are killing Tamils in Batticaloa, but we’re not killing you, we’re only asking you to leave in two hours,’ and had arranged a lorry to take the refugees to Colombo.

    The Muslims were stunned; they had never had any problems with local Tamils, so this was like a bolt from the blue. These girls had been going to Muslim schools, but their brothers had gone to mixed schools and there were no problems; they had never felt any discrimination against them. They felt very sad to leave, but were afraid that the Tigers would kill them if they went back; even if the war ended, they would still be afraid, so they would prefer to settle in Colombo if possible. However their fathers, most of whom were tailors, preferred to go back because their occupation was there and they could earn a better income.

Why do you think the problem started?

 

• They say it’s because of Muslims attacking Tamils in Batticaloa. 

But Muslim Home Guards in Batticaloa have nothing to do with peaceful Muslim civilians in Jaffna or Mannar!

 

That’s true. I think the real reason is that the Tigers are fighting for a separate Eelam. But even then, they had no reason to attack us. Although Muslims were not asking for a separate state, we didn’t oppose them either. We never helped the security forces! At first the Tigers took money only from rich people, not from the poor; but now they’re robbing everyone! We’re praying every day that the problem will be over, so that we can at least go back and see our homes. 

How do you think the problem can be ended?

 

We can’t say. There were talks earlier, but they broke down and there was war again. Now we feel that even if there are talks, the same thing could happen again! The bombs are falling there, not here, but still our minds are not at peace. 

    Their mothers, whom I met subsequently, were much more explicit in their agitation and outrage at what had happened. Their account of the events was similar: some Tigers had come from Batticaloa saying that Muslims were massacring Tamils there, and they should retaliate by killing Muslims in Jaffna, but the local Tigers refused to do that. Then the Batticaloa Tigers had said that the Muslims should all be expelled by midnight. Again the local Tigers had refused, but instead had called a meeting the next day and given them two hours’ notice to leave.

    A Tiger with a gun at the ready stood in front of each house as they cleared out. They were only allowed to take some clothes and one sovereign’s worth of gold; the rest of their jewellery was taken off them, and body searches were conducted to make sure they weren’t taking anything away. The women obviously felt humiliated and very angry at the way they had been treated – and this, too, after all they had done for the Tigers! During the IPKF occupation, the Tigers would take shelter in their houses; when the IPKF came searching, a woman would come out with a sari draped over her head and smile demurely, they would see she was a Muslim and go away, thinking that Tigers couldn’t be hiding in a Muslim house.

    They were all emphatic that they had never had any problems with local Tamils, had never felt persecuted or discriminated against, but had lived with them in friendship; in fact, their Tamil neighbours had come out to protest against their expulsion, but the Tigers hadn’t listened to them. Now they were afraid to go back, and felt that they would be at risk while even one Tiger remained; whether they got Eelam or not, the Tigers would treat all Muslims as slaves or second-class citizens. Now their trust had been destroyed, and they would always be afraid that the same thing could happen again.

    There was equal anger and bitterness over conditions in the camp, the rotten food they were given, the absence of meat, their inability to celebrate their own festivals, etc. They felt the government was not serious about helping them; even the Muslim organisation which was helping them was giving very inadequate assistance, but they didn’t want to offend them by complaining. They were very much in favour of the idea that their plight should be publicised; the general feeling was that they had been forgotten, ignored, deprived of a voice. A young woman who had joined the group summed it up by saying, ‘They should have killed us – even that would have been better than what we are suffering now.’

    In another camp, in which the occupants had all come from Mannar island, we talked to a group of women with children. The women told us that the ultimatum to them to leave had been brought from Tigers who had come from outside. At first the local Tigers had objected, saying, ‘How can we do this to people who have been feeding and sheltering us?’ But ultimately they had agreed to it, going around the streets in a van with a loudspeaker telling the Muslim residents to leave within five days, and threatening to kill them otherwise.

    We asked whether they were sure these were Tigers, since some Tamils in Colombo had said it was actually the government trying to clear Muslims out of the North for their own reasons. ‘Most certainly they were Tigers,’ said a teacher, who did most of the talking. ‘Some of them were my own former pupils – there’s no way I could be mistaken about them!’ She had taught in a Muslim boys’ school, but non-Muslim Tamil boys had also come there because the two communities were so close. Some of the Tigers who had come from outside were very young and barely literate – they had trouble reading out the lists of what people might and might not take with them. What they were allowed to take was very little: a few thousand rupees, the jewellery and clothes they were wearing, and a few other things. The rest of their things had to be left behind, although some of the local Tigers had been fairly lenient about checking and had allowed them to take more than their ‘quota’. Others, however, had already started looting the Muslim families.

    Their Tamil neighbours, meanwhile, had been utterly devastated by what was happening; they had literally wept, and begged and pleaded with the Tigers not to do this, but to no avail. This woman was very emphatic that there had been absolutely no enmity or hostility between the communities; on the contrary, they had lived in such close friendship – she demonstrated with hands clasped together – that if a family in one community was having a wedding and couldn’t afford all the expenses, a neighbour in the other community would even sell jewellery in order to help out: so close were they, she said, like brothers and sisters.

    When they left, many of them had left valuables with Tamil neighbours, thinking that even if they themselves could not return, at least their friends could enjoy the use of these articles. But their Tamil friends had wailed, ‘What will happen to us once you are gone?’, reckoning that the presence of the Muslims had acted as some kind of restraint on the armed forces, but that once they were gone, the remaining residents would be subjected to merciless bombardment. (Another informant said that this fear had led to a simultaneous exodus of Tamils.)

    Since the Tigers had already blown up the causeway linking Mannar island to the mainland, the Muslim refugees were trapped, with no alternative but to travel to the mainland by fishing boat. Many of them waited up to five days on the beach in the pouring monsoon rain, waiting for a boat to take them across. And these were people in all conditions – old, young, sick, pregnant. One old person and one child had fallen in the water and drowned. One woman gave birth to a baby; she survived, but the baby died and had to be buried when they reached the camp. Those who had been residents of Mannar town had already been displaced some months earlier to villages outside, due to the aerial bombing and shelling by the Sri Lankan forces, in which many people had been wounded, had lost arms and legs and in some cases their lives. We were not told what happened to the injured people, but there didn’t seem to be any of them in the camp, nor did it seem likely that they could have undertaken such a journey in their condition.

    The women said that exposure to the wind and rain had torn much of their clothing to shreds; they felt especially bad that their children, whom they had cared for with so much trouble, had been exposed to all this while they were helpless to do anything about it. Even some of the few belongings they had managed to salvage had to be thrown away in the desperate flight: where it was a choice between people and luggage, people obviously got priority. The fishing boat owners too wanted to get what they could out of the situation, charging 6,000 rupees per family to take them across. Not everyone could afford this, so some included those who couldn’t afford it as part of their ‘family’. Fishing boats meant to carry five or six people were loaded with up to 40 people; one woman said she was convinced their last moment had come when their boat, its edge just two inches above the water, threatened to capsize; and yet, thanks to God’s protection, they had managed to survive and reach the shore safely.

    The whole experience sounded like a dreadful nightmare, and the women were baffled and hurt by the way they had been treated. One said, ‘When they started looting us it was bad enough, but then we thought they would leave us alone. We never expected them to do this! Why did they have to do this to us? If they had been good to us, we would have supported them.’

    What was impressive, however, was that at no point did they blame ordinary Tamils for what the Tigers had done to them; in this they were unlike the majority of Sinhalese refugees, and confirmed once again the impression that the latter had been confused and misled by anti-Tamil propaganda. Everything the Muslim refugees said, both in Puttalam and in Colombo, conveyed a picture of a closely integrated, multi-ethnic community without any ethnic or religious tensions.

    If Sinhalese and Muslims have suffered, however, the worst victims of the struggle for Tamil Eelam have in some ways been the Tamils themselves. I have already mentioned two Tamil refugees with Sinhalese husbands, one in a Tamil and one in a Sinhalese camp; the young man who showed us round one of the Tamil camps had a Sinhalese father and Tamil mother (both in Jaffna), a large number of people in the Tamil camps could speak Sinhala, and vice versa. With all these indications of close links between the communities, one might expect appalling tragedy if attempts are made to tear them apart, and this is precisely what I found.

    In one of the Tamil camps, I met two sisters from Batticaloa. The elder sister had been working in the Fisheries Corporation when she met her future husband, a Sinhalese fisherman. They fell in love, managed to overcome opposition from both families, and got married. Then her younger sister and her husband’s younger brother also fell in love and secretly got married, much to the disgust of their families, and a third sister too married a Sinhalese man. Their children were all Sinhala-speaking. When the war broke out in June the families, fearing for the safety of the men, sent them ahead to Colombo. Some time later the women and children followed, and at the refugee camp met someone who had been on the same bus as their menfolk. Apparently it had been stopped by the Tigers, who had taken out the Sinhalese passengers and killed them: not even shot them, but hacked them to death.

    ‘We haven’t told the children what happened to their fathers – how can we explain to them?’ said the eldest sister. ‘But my eldest daughter is eight years old, she understands everything. I have to tell her to keep away when we talk like this, otherwise she listens and asks questions.’ Indeed, one of the children, smiling innocently, told me, ‘My father has gone to the village.’ The second sister was in her ninth month of pregnancy, and no arrangements seemed to have been made to take her to hospital for the birth of her baby. The eldest could operate a sewing machine, and wanted a job in a garment factory so that she could earn and support the others in Colombo. ‘We can’t go back,’ she said, ‘we will be looked on with suspicion because our children speak Sinhala. Nor can we go and stay in our husbands’ family’s village. I stayed there for three years, but now we can’t go back because they got so angry about the second marriage!’

    A Tamil schoolgirl who had been studying in the Sinhala medium told me how her education had been interrupted yet again six months after she had settled down in Batticaloa as a refugee:

 

• For six months I went to school; then the Tigers came and cut and killed my teachers – Sinhala teachers. And broke the school. My science teacher, they cut and killed her. 

Even women teachers!

 

Yes. And my home science teacher – they shot her. 

Did you like your teachers?

 

Oh yes, my teachers were very good! 

So since ’87, you haven’t properly been to school?

 

No, no, no. I’m trying to study now – my mother is teaching me. 

    Her mother told me:

 

• In Batticaloa the Tigers wanted to kill me because they said I was Sinhalese. You see, I speak Sinhala better than Tamil because I studied in the Sinhala medium in Anuradhapura. Then they looked at my daughter, she also studied in the Sinhala medium, so they said this is a Sinhalese woman married to a Tamil and we must kill her. I pleaded with them that I was not Sinhalese, I said I could show them my birth certificate to prove I was Tamil. Then they went away. My husband got harassed too. He’s a mechanic, he repairs whatever is brought to him, But the Tigers would accuse him of repairing bicycles for the army, the army would accuse him of repairing bicycles for the Tigers, and both would threaten him. In Colombo, they wanted to kill us because we are Tamil; in Batticaloa, they wanted to kill me because they said I was Sinhalese. There is no freedom anywhere in this country! 

    The observation that ethnic nationalism, whether Sinhalese or Tamil, involves a denial of personal freedom, was echoed by a Sinhalese refugee:

 

• Look at the situation of all those families where mixed marriages have taken place. Can a husband leave his wife? Or can a woman leave her husband? Can the parents leave their children? No, they can’t. And yet it has become very difficult for them to live together. Both communities look on them with suspicion. They can’t find any place to live together in peace. There is no freedom in this country anywhere! And what about the Tamil families who are Sinhala-speaking? They too face the same problem. Tamils look on them with suspicion because they are Sinhala-speaking; Sinhalese look on them with suspicion because they are Tamil. Where can they go? There is no freedom anywhere.

    What she and others are pointing out is that Sri Lanka has developed historically as a multi-ethnic nation in which different communities are inextricably mixed; attempting to split up its territory on an ethnic basis is a process as violent and bloody as tearing a human being limb from limb. No one can expect the victim to survive such an operation. The establishment of a Tamil nation in the North and East will be as much of a restriction on the freedom of Tamils as on that of other communities. Large numbers of people like me, whose family home has always been in the South, will have to get visas in order to live at home – which is surely an absurd situation! As Sri Lankans, we have enough difficulties getting visas to other countries; why should we add to our problems by voluntarily excluding ourselves from the greater part of our own country?

    Just as the Sinhalese have suffered from the policies of their nationalists, the Tamils too have suffered the devastating impact of the violence within their own community. It is a tragic irony that a struggle which purportedly started partly because Tamils were being denied higher education should end by destroying even the existing higher education facilities and opportunities for development in the predominantly Tamil areas. For example, the attitude of the LTTE to the Eastern University in Batticaloa has hardly contributed to its survival as an institution of higher education: 

 

Towards the end of August the transformers supplying electricity to the university were blasted… For the university as an institution catering for the development of the region, the loss of electric supply meant a significant loss. The university’s Department of Agriculture was involved in a project to find organic alternatives to weedicides. They had been collecting and storing varieties of fungi with the aim of culturing ones that would attack weeds in rice fields while not harming the rice. Equipment had been provided by British overseas development aid worth 10,000 pounds. Without electricity all this effort of storing went waste…

    On 27th September the Tigers abducted the university registrar for a so-called inquiry (later released) and about the same time told the inmates of the camp that they must vacate by the 1st October… The discipline that had held all this time suddenly broke down. The community that was coming together disintegrated. The people, together with the LTTE, started stripping the university. The LTTE brought bullock carts. People took away things which meant nothing to them – chemical balances, micro computers, video screens etc. These gadgets and university furniture started appearing all over the surrounding area (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No.7, pp. 45, 47).

Not only higher education, but even school education has been disrupted as younger and younger children have been pressed into the fighting forces. As in ‘Sinhala Buddhist’ Sri Lanka, apparently the only career open to the youth of Tamil Eelam is that of killing:

 

We have observed that during the current situation, a large number of young persons are joining the LTTE… Many of the boys joining are about the age of 12… The young recruits are sent into action after rudimentary training lasting about two weeks and are often sent for frontline duty. It is said that the casualty figures from this group are not reflected in official lists of martyrs… As the result of frontline positions being most prone to bombing and shelling, a number of very young persons have been maimed with limbs lost (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No.5, pp. 39–40). 

    Having once joined, with very little idea of what is involved, these children are trapped. Here is an account of their plight based on the testimony of teenagers who had succeeded in leaving the movement:

 

After a couple of days inside, the initial allure had gone, life inside was oppressive and many of them wanted to leave. One of the children told the man in charge that he wanted to go home. Immediately, everyone was called together and he who wanted to go home was given a sound public thrashing. The others who also wanted to go then kept quiet. Their parents who succeeded in tracing them came to the camp and asked for their children. Each child was faced with his parents and asked if he wished to go home. The answer was consistently ‘no’. In due course a few were given drugs that made them feel violent. They were given the freedom to let loose by torturing prisoners…

    Another revealing instance is that of a young girl from Karaveddy who joined the LTTE… During the Jaffna Fort operation last year, the mother received a letter smuggled out of a camp by a labourer. The letter from her daughter said that she was in Nelliady girls’ camp and desperately wanted to go home… The mother went to the camp with a friend to plead her case. The leader of the camp repeatedly denied the girl’s presence. In desperation, the mother produced her daughter’s letter. The leader read the letter, called out the girl, and in her mother’s presence slapped her and kicked her with her boot. She then sent the mother away telling her that her daughter will never be released (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No. 8, pp. 72–3). 

The torture and killing of Sinhalese by Sinhalese, which occurred in the course of the struggle for state power during the JVP uprising, was mirrored by the internecine fighting between Tamil militant groups, with the LTTE, which emerged victorious, playing the role of the Tamil state torturing and killing its Tamil victims:

 

Although the Tigers had banned the other organisations after killing large numbers of their cadre, there were some who were able to escape from them. The process of hunting the remaining cadre is still going on. Those who get caught by the LTTE are being tortured brutally in order to get internal information about the movement to which they had earlier belonged. After the IPKF withdrawal, i.e. with the commencement of peace negotiations with the Sri Lankan government, the arrests had been on the increase. Some boys who sought refuge in Colombo were taken to Jaffna with the connivance of the Sri Lankan security forces, on the basis that they belonged to certain movements which were banned earlier by the LTTE. Similarly the prisoners from Jaffna were taken to the famous camp in Thunnukai, passing the Elephant Pass camp which was manned by the Sri Lankan forces. The estimates of the number of prisoners now in captivity under the Tigers range from 2,000 to 6,000. More reliable estimates put the number between 3,000 to 4,000. The brutal manner in which the LTTE torture their prisoners in underground bunkers, using boys often below the age of 16 as torturers, brings out the true colour of the struggle. The sadistic and dastardly depths to which children who ‘volunteer’ their services are broken and depraved by the LTTE is a comment on the liberation it offers to the community…

    Reproduced below are some excerpts from the affidavit of an escapee to highlight the gruesome reality which prevails in Tiger prisons:

 

“There is a bed made of a cement slab which is kept in a slanted position. Its width is 4ft and length 7ft. There is a chain fixed on to it permanently. Each prisoner is made to sleep with his head downwards and the legs upwards while he is chained. This awkward posture reminds me of Jesus Christ on the cross. The prisoner’s chest is also tightened by a belt. Apart from the head, no other part of the body can be moved. Then the face is covered with a thick towel. An LITE boy holds down both sides of the towel with his legs and pours water on the face. At this point the prisoner can’t breathe and he screams. He is asked to tell the truth, and they insist on confirming their allegations. If anybody is adamant, they will keep on pouring water…

    Keeping the prisoner in the same position they will roll a wooden roller with an iron bar inserted in it from top to bottom all over the body. The roller may weigh about 300 lbs. When they do that, bones will crack and the skin of the body will peel off.

    There is a room, very small in size, like a tiny toilet, even without ventilation holes. They will leave the prisoner in that room and send smoke from burning chilies inside. If they do not answer, this will continue. The prisoner, who is fully naked, starts to cough and sometimes bleeds…” (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No.9, pp. 12-14).

    And so it goes on. The suppression of criticism and dissent, symbolised in the ‘Sinhala Buddhist’ nation by the killing of Richard de Zoysa, has its parallels in the Tamil nation too, the most celebrated case being the LTTE’s murder of lecturer, feminist and human rights activist Rajani Thiranagama. Not merely open criticism, but any sign of independent thinking is immediately crushed:

 

On the 26th August 1991, students Manohar and Chelvi were arrested by the LTTE… Manohar, who was grieved by the rampant violence which had enveloped our community, was angry about the role played by intellectuals in the university and expressed his opinions very openly. He was very much involved in all the activities of the university students and tried his best to keep his independence. This was too much for the LTTE ‘policemen’ in the university to bear…

    The LTTE has not given any reason for Chelvi’s arrest. But she was arrested the day before the public staging of a drama in which she was to act… The drama was basically about a Palestinian prisoner who was tortured by the Israelis… No one thought it would offend the LTTE. It occurred to people only much later that although torture and mistreatment of prisoners by state powers had been experienced by many Tamils, this experience was at the time alien to the LTTE. Its cadre had been ordered to take cyanide as a means of evading capture… To the LTTE, torture and brutality towards prisoners were not things experienced by themselves but only what they notoriously mete out to others. And worse, a member of the Jaffna literary scene, now working for the LTTE, had commented that the heroine in the play was strongly reminiscent of the late Dr Rajani Thiranagama. (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No. 9, p. 28; see also p. 26 for an account of the murder of Dr Thiranagama). 

    Finally, not even their own members were immune from repression by the Tamil nationalist groups:

 

Due to internecine strife between the groups and internal repression, for which LTTE, PLOTE [People’s Liberation Organisation of Tamil Eelam] and TELO were famous, a large number of cadre were killed, many of them without seeing action against Sri Lankan forces…

    The following facts about the long rumoured ‘Green Boat’ came to light after certain top ranking members left the movement. This would explain much about the character of the LTTE. During the training period in India the cadre were monitored intensively. The cadre who had the potential to decide what was right and wrong on their own, and who had a rebellious tendency to think and act by themselves, were identified or marked as a potential threat to the movement. After finishing the training, all the trained cadre were sent to the North and East of Sri Lanka in several boats. Those who had been identified or marked as a ‘potential threat’ were made to travel in the ‘green boat’. Those who embarked on the ‘green boat ride’ never reached the other earthly shore. In mid sea their destiny was decided. After killing them, the bodies with the stomachs slit open were thrown into the brine – a trick with which the Sri Lankan forces are said to have become adept during the 14 months they were chums with the LTTE. Bodies so treated sank without the embarrassment of turning up on shores (UTHR (Jaffna) Report No. 9, p. 12). 

    These accounts corroborate and expand on the stories of Tamil refugees, in Britain as well as Sri Lanka, who are fleeing the LTTE or other Tamil groups. They suggest very strongly that Eelam is not the solution to the problems of ordinary Tamils, but simply makes their lives even harder. Nor, I feel, is it the solution most Tamils would choose, if they were given real freedom of choice. There are Tamils who feel that open discussion of the ugly side of Tamil nationalism is a disservice to the ‘Tamil cause’; but for most Tamils I talked to, the ‘Tamil cause’ was identified with freedom from discrimination and persecution rather than the establishment of a totalitarian Tamil state.

    Perhaps some Tamils may feel it is worth fighting and dying for a Tamil state in which they will be tortured by Tamil rather than Sinhalese torturers, but to most Tamils the language spoken by the torturer is immaterial. Tamils in a position of safety who wilfully close their eyes to the atrocities of the militants, bear part of the responsibility for the continuing destruction of the Tamil community in Sri Lanka. It has to be acknowledged openly and honestly that the ‘cause’ of the Eelamists is not the same as the ‘cause’ of the ‘Tamil people,’ and just as leading Zionists were willing to sacrifice millions of Jews to the ‘cause’ of a Jewish state (see Schoenman 1988, Ch. 6), so the Eelamists have shown themselves willing to sacrifice most of the Tamil population of Sri Lanka to the ‘cause’ of a Tamil state.

    The perception of ordinary Tamils in Sri Lanka, crushed between Sinhalese and Tamil nationalism in much the same way that Sinhalese villagers found themselves crushed between the government and the JVP, was expressed very vividly by a traveller on his way north to visit his family in Jaffna. After having characterised the current Sri Lankan regime as being ‘worse than that of Idi Amin,’ and the policy of the Buddhist clergy as being ‘Sunday sil, Monday kill’ (sil = prayers), he told me confidentially, ‘But the idiom of the Tigers is “brothers”.

    ‘What does that mean?’ I asked, mystified.

    ‘Premadasa is the big brother, Prabhakaran is the younger brother: they are both exactly the same.’ Then, indicating the young Sinhalese soldier in battle-dress patrolling the railway carriage, ‘The Tigers also look like them and behave like them. They’re exactly the same – you can’t tell the difference.’

    For this man, as for many others, Tamil ‘identity’ had very little to do with ethnicity. Discussing my mixed parentage, the fact that I was educated in Sinhala rather than Tamil and cannot claim to be Tamil in any cultural sense, I happened to mention that my family had been displaced in the 1958 riots. ‘Then you are Tamil,’ he said decisively, as though that settled the matter, implying that it is a history of persecution, rather than anything else, which defines Tamils as Tamils in Sri Lanka.

    It seems that ethnic nationalism, whether of the ‘Sinhala Buddhist’ or Tamil variety, does not stop at denying the rights of people of other communities, but goes on to deny the rights even of its own people. Perhaps in an ideology and set-up where some people have the power to deny the rights of others, it is only in this negative way that the essential unity of the human race can be asserted: their unity in oppression. In any case, if Sinhalese nationalism has been the cause of all the problems, it seems illogical to conclude that a similar form of nationalism can be the solution; nor did most of the Tamil refugees I interviewed draw this illogical conclusion. If one ethnic nationalism causes the problem, two can only compound it. The solution has to be something completely different.

 

Chapter 7: The only solution: a homeland for all

    If Eelam is not the solution to the conflict in Sri Lanka that is causing the refugee problem, what is? When I asked the Tamil refugees what the prospects were for improvement, they had intelligent and constructive answers:

 

• I think both Tamils and Sinhalese must get together and regard themselves as Sri Lankans, instead of saying ‘Tamils’, ‘Sinhalese’, ‘JVP’, ‘Tigers’, this, that and the other. All Sri Lankans must regard themselves as Sri Lankans… I think the problem can be solved if there’s a good leader who is sincere and who wants to bring about peace in Sri Lanka. What we lack is good leaders.

 

• We need a better understanding between the two communities. I think we must create a better understanding by talking, by negotiating, by a give-and-take attitude… [My relationship with Sinhalese] is very friendly, cordial and understanding. As people they are very nice, as friends they are good; but when the issue of Tamil comes up, I don’t know how they react. As friends they are good to me; and especially when there is trouble, like the riots, some of my friends helped Tamils even without knowing them.

    On the other hand I have some other friends, they are good to me, but when there is some problem, they are very bad to Tamils. There are even some people who are friends when the situation is normal, but when it becomes abnormal, they are hostile even to us – hostile to their own friends.

 

• I don’t think you can predict [positive change] for at least another ten years. Because people have to get over those feelings, both the Sinhalese and the Tamils. So it takes time. Only time will heal their wounds. Till then, I don’t think they will come to a settlement. That is my opinion.

    The government should change their policies first… They must give equal chances. You can’t go and say for education also it should be according to population! They were not giving credit for intelligence. Earlier, intelligent people were able to get into university, and the university crowd was good. Now it’s not like that: anyone can get in. [It should be] on merit. You must give credit for that. You mustn’t look to see whether the person is a Muslim or Tamil, you must give credit to the person.

 

• They must come to the negotiating table without any demands – everyone, every militant group, including the JVP.

 

• They must come to the table to talk, without demanding anything – I mean, without putting conditions. Everyone must have only one mind: Sri Lanka wants peace, the Sri Lankan people want a peaceful life. And then negotiate on that basis. Most people want peace now. Every year, nearly 6,000 students go to university. But during the last seven or eight years, no one has passed out. So nearly 50,000 students, couldn’t pass their exams – their education has come to a stop. Everything has come to a stop in the North.

Is it possible for Sinhalese and Tamils to live in harmony?

 

Yes. It is possible if everyone is taught both languages – Sinhala and Tamil. Because communication is very important. If I want to express my opinion to Sinhalese people and I don’t know Sinhala, I can’t. If I get a translator, he is never going to express exactly my feelings. (This refugee was a victim of torture by the Sri Lankan security forces.)

 

• The movement is changing now, but I think if the government gave equal rights to Sinhala and Tamil people, they would accept it. I think the Sinhalese have changed their minds now. Earlier there was racism; political party members told them, ‘Tamil bastards, hit them,’ and anything they were told, they would believe it and do it. But now I think most of the Sinhalese have changed their minds – I think so. Now they don’t believe the political

leaders.

 

• Everyone should give up their weapons without making conditions and come to the negotiating table, including the Sri Lankan forces. [The Sinhalese] haven’t got a proper leader! If they have a good leader without racist ideas, they could live together.

 

• I think the government should negotiate with the Tigers and the JVP, and I would like both Tamil people and Sinhalese people to get freedom. 

Do you think Sinhalese and Tamil people can live side by side?

 

That was an earlier problem, wasn’t it? Now the Sinhalese and Tamils are in the same situation, and maybe they will sort out the problems okay, if they get freedom and everything.

 

• If all the boys are cooperative, then there will be a positive change: not otherwise. If they join together, if there is no selfishness… If they are freedom fighters, their motive should be to free Tamils from Sinhalese harassment and everything. For that, they must cooperate, they must combine together. Now they are fighting among themselves. They should get together.

    [The Sinhalese] are good people by nature. Only the political situation changes their minds. Generally there are only very small differences between the Tamils and Sinhalese.

 

• It’s not an impossibility [to live together peacefully], and if we try hard enough it can be done. Of course now, after ’83, it has become much more difficult. But I don’t say it’s impossible – it is possible.

 

• The groups have to join together in one, and then have some sort of professional politicians – people with real knowledge of the problem – to put forward a solution. 

Do you think it’s possible to live together peacefully?

 

• I think it’s possible, but… I think both sides must make the effort. I don’t think it’s got something to do with anything personal – it’s more than that. At the top level it has to be corrected. I think it’s not between just an ordinary Tamil family and an ordinary Sinhalese family. It’s at the political level. 

    Some of the refugees, feeling that the warring parties on both sides would not come to a settlement and stop fighting even if there was understanding between the communities, felt the need for intervention from outside which was genuinely neutral, unlike, in their view, the Indian government’s intervention:

 

• There is one and only one hope that I have, which is that international peace-keeping forces are involved… in which case, all parties might have to give in. So long as it is not Indian and not Tamil… So if you get somebody from outside who is seen as being neutral…

    Some Sinhalese just don’t want the United Nations Peace-Keeping Force to come in –  because if they come in, they will probably insist on some human rights of the Tamils. And they won’t like it.

 

• I think India and Sri Lanka must ask the boys to return their weapons – that’s the democratic way. Disarm all boys… (But) they won’t. Unfortunately, the Sri Lankan government is giving arms to the Tigers. [At the time I couldn’t believe this, but it subsequently became common knowledge and was even admitted by the government that they were supplying the Tigers with arms during the period of the ceasefire/talks – arms which were turned against the Sri Lankan forces and possibly also Sinhalese and Muslim civilians once the IPKF had left.] Then, automatically the Indian army will supply arms to the other groups. Then both of them will start to fight.

So do you think any other political solution is possible?

 

I think now the international links… the other governments must advise the Sri Lankan government to make a peaceful solution. Because now everyone is on a power struggle, and for the power struggle they are doing mad, mad things. I think good political advice is very essential to the Sri Lankan government – and to the groups, because even last month they have killed a very popular Tamil leader [Amirthalingam, leader of the TULF]. Because they went to [his] home for a negotiation talk. 

In general, how would you describe your relationships with Sinhalese people?

 

I think, when you compare, after going round the world and seeing other people’s areas and cultures and everything, Sri Lanka is one of the best countries naturally and culturally – even the community there. If the politicians stop using the press for religious and language propaganda, if they allow the people to live peacefully, they will do it.

 

• This government, in my view, is an illegitimate government, primarily because the constitution of 1978 was not mandated by the people. It introduced an executive presidency where the president had all power in his hands – certainly not with the consent of the people. Then the 1982 referendum was rigged to such an extent that they were able to show 51 per cent voting for the government, which is utter rubbish. Then the presidential election of 1982 was also manipulated by the government. So that today, we have had elections again to parliament after a lapse of more than 11 years; and even these parliamentary elections were manipulated by the government – there have been criticisms of it by Lord Avebury, who is the chairman of the Parliamentary Human Rights Group.

    Now, my thesis is this: the whole thing must be completely dissolved; first of all it is necessary for an international body like the ICRC to go in, to trace missing persons –  disappearances – and look at the treatment of detainees in the various army camps and prisons; and another international body, preferably under the UN, to move in, disarm all groups, have fresh elections, so that the elected representatives will draft a new democratic constitution where power will be returned to the people – and when we say ‘people’, we mean all the people!

    All the parties – meaning, the people who have suffered – should participate in any agreement – people who really face the problems, not the people who are living here in Britain or in Canada; people in Sri Lanka itself, they should participate in any settlement – their representatives, real representatives, not the puppets appointed by the Indian government or any other government. And free elections should be held under the supervision of an international body – fair elections should take place. And the youth should be given a proper place in the government machinery. 

Have you had Sinhalese friends in Sri Lanka, or Britain?

 

Mostly in Sri Lanka; in Britain, one or two. I was the president of the Human Rights Organisation – HRO – in Trincomalee, so due to that I had plenty of Sinhalese friends – we got together and fought for human rights. I used to go to the district Police Superintendent if anything went wrong – not by myself but with my Sinhalese friends, all of us used to go and sort out things. We didn’t want any communal riots, so we tried to settle the problems then and there. We managed to control the situation. But the ’83 riot was pre-planned by the government and super-powers, no? So we were unable to do anything.

How would you describe your relationship with the Sinhalese?

 

I like them… I love them – that’s how I would describe it.

(This refugee was a victim of severe and prolonged torture by the Sri Lankan security forces.) 

    Other Tamil refugees in Britain, even though they couldn’t suggest specific solutions to the conflict, were far from ruling out the possibility of Sinhalese and Tamils living together peacefully. In fact most said they had lived happily alongside Sinhalese friends and neighbours.

    Tamil refugees in the camps in Sri Lanka, too, were generally critical of the idea of dividing the country, and expressed a desire to live alongside neighbours from other communities; indeed, it was clear from their friendships and inter-marriages that many of them did not even categorise people in terms of their ethnicity.

 

• I was studying in the Sinhala medium… My mother also studied in Sinhala. She’s from Anuradhapura, and that’s a Sinhala-speaking area. 

What language do you speak at home?

 

Before 1983, we used to talk in Sinhala. After ’83, we started to talk Tamil. 

Up to ’83, you didn’t think much about being Tamil?

 

No, no. Even now I don’t think in that way!

 

• I don’t want any ‘Eelam’! I think people of different communities can live together; what we need is peace, not Eelam. I don’t even think of people in terms of Sinhalese or Tamil; I don’t think any community is better or worse than any other. What makes people good or bad is not the community they come from but the way they have been brought up – whether they have been taught not to beat people, not to steal, to be honest, to be truthful – the truth is very important. This has to be taught not only to children but even to grown-ups! 

    In a group discussion, where one woman expressed somewhat sectarian sentiments – e.g. seemed to be blaming all Muslims and Sinhalese for what the Home Guards and security forces had done – others took issue with her, and she finally agreed that attacking innocent people was no solution to the problem:

 

• I’m glad the Muslims have been expelled from the North, because they have chased us out of our homes.

 

• But not all Muslims are like that – only the Home Guards are a problem. We have very good Muslim friends – in fact, we left our house in their care when we had to leave.

 

• I still think it’s difficult to live together now, because people on both sides have lost relatives, there is a desire for revenge – I think the Muslims and Sinhalese also feel the same. Even if there is peace, we can’t forget the people who have been killed. For example, in Batticaloa, one mother hid her three children in a room, and told the security forces no one was there. They started to go, but then they heard the children laughing and came back, and despite the mother prostrating herself at their feet, they killed all three children in front of her eyes. How can people forget such things, even if there is peace? The pain and bitterness will always remain. Because it was a woman, she couldn’t do anything. But if it had been a man who saw his three brothers killed in front of his eyes, surely he would want to take revenge by killing someone too! 

It’s true that people who have committed such atrocities should be punished, but what is the point of attacking innocent people?

 

• When armed groups are fighting, ordinary people are suffering.

 

• It’s wrong to hurt innocent people. Both sides are wrong.

 

• Yes, that’s true. Killing innocent people only makes things worse.

 

• Now in practice there’s a separate state in the North, only there’s no development –  everything is made from palmyra! [general laughter]. I don’t want to go back to Jaffna unless there is peace – things are terribly expensive, we would be questioned, money would be extorted from us, and all that kind of thing.

 

• I was living in Anuradhapura during the 1983 riots, and we took shelter with Sinhalese friends. They kept us for a week, and gave us food and shelter.

 

• They should stop fighting and talk, solve the problems by discussion.

 

•I would like all three communities to live together in peace.

 

• Yes, that’s right [general agreement]. 

These are not the words of fanatics ready to endorse any atrocity in order to achieve Tamil Eelam. On the contrary, they are calling for an end to the power struggle between rival Tamil groups; a stop to the fighting; negotiations, dialogue, communication, mutual understanding; equal rights and equal opportunities; a common struggle for freedom and human rights.

    So far as demands on the Sri Lankan government are concerned – an end to human rights violations and colonisation schemes based on massacring and driving out Tamils, and equal rights and opportunities for minorities – granting them is a matter of simple justice; it can be done unilaterally, without any need for negotiations with anyone. Such a move would, I believe, do more to defeat the separatist struggle than all the military victories in the world.

    There is no sense that these refugees regard all or even the majority of Sinhalese people as enemies; the predominant feeling is a preference for inter-ethnic friendship rather than separatism. However, in other cases there was also a recognition that the past puts obstacles in the way of their preferred solution. Many of the refugees had suggestions for ways in which these obstacles could be overcome, and foremost among these were proposals for devolution, autonomy or federalism:

Are you in favour of a federal solution?

 

• If it is a fully-fledged federal government, yes. If there’s no discrimination, and if that’s guaranteed, I think we will accept a federal government.

    The devolution of powers must be practical, or rather comprehensive and constructive, so that Tamils may feel secure. So that what happened may not be repeated – at least they don’t want another July 1983. 

What are the prospects for a positive change in the future?

 

Unless Mr Premadasa himself comes down and gives Tamils their rights in the North and East – that is part of it, he must give the rights to their way of taking things up, like having Tamil as a national language, using it in the kachcheri [government office] and so forth: these people have their Sinhalese, so why not? – unless things like that come, nobody can guarantee better things in the future. 

Have you had any Sinhalese friends, colleagues or neighbours?

 

My mother has been the secretary of the Sri Lanka Women’s Association, so she’s involved with the Sinhalese. Some Tamils think, ‘Why should she move with the Sinhalese?’ But back in Sri Lanka we were all living together, we were neighbours, we had such a nice friendship with them. So we don’t think they are our enemies.

 

• For me, I am from Batticaloa, you know; from 1956 I had so many bad experiences from the Sinhalese people and the Sinhalese army. But up to 1983, there was very much less suffering for the Jaffna people. In a way – educationally and job-wise – they were suffering; but Batticaloa people, they suffered a lot… attacks and all these things. Violence.

    My final solution – that is my opinion – is that we should have… not a separate country, but separate ruling and… a federal state with some autonomy… Because I can’t say the Sinhalese are all enemies and all that – there are good people, there are good people, you know…

    In Sri Lanka when we were working, for most of the time – about 13 years out of 14 – we were living in Sinhalese areas. They helped a lot in my day-to-day life, they helped my wife and my family… The Sinhalese – generally they are very polite, very simple people. It’s only the politicians who have created problems.

 

• I think a separate state may make it better – not a separate country, but a federal state, like in India. Now we have some more problems in the Eastern Province: now there aren’t Sinhalese-Tamil riots, now it’s Muslims and Tamils. Last month was the worst incident in Amparai. It has cost some lives – I heard about 130 people have been killed on both sides. Because they also have some militant group now – now they are dominating some parts of the Eastern Province. 

So they won’t like to be under a Tamil state?

 

They can’t be – it’s very difficult; we can’t solve that problem. We can solve that problem only if we separate the Eastern from the Northern Province. If the two are joined, there will be some problems in the future – you can’t say in what way it will arise. Because in the Eastern part there’s a majority of Muslims, and they won’t accept Tamils being over them…

    Only if we get a separate state in the Eastern Province can we get some peace. If we don’t get that, we’ll be better off living with the Sinhalese.

 

• Actually the problem depends on the Sri Lankan government – the Sri Lankan government can solve it if they give Tamil people equal opportunities and equal rights, autonomous status and a federal arrangement… If they solve these problems, there is no reason to go on fighting.

 

• Even if they give us a separate state, I don’t think that would solve the problem; again it would be separated some more! Better not to give a separate state as such. Maybe just… like in India they have… a federal state. That will be the best. And even then I really don’t know how it’s going to work out. I don’t think that people would like it even if the Tigers came to power and got everything… Not only the Muslims – even the Tamils! They are scared – they think these people are very rigid and violent and one-track-minded.

 

• We can negotiate with them – with the Sri Lankan government – to get more devolution of power… We can solve our problems if there is more devolution. 

Is it possible for Sinhalese and Tamils to live side by side without conflict?

 

That may happen, but it would be a different set-up. After we sort out our matters, that would be a different set-up, not like this.

 

• [A solution would be] what was agreed by J.R. Jayawardene with Rajiv Gandhi: powers given to the Northern and Eastern Provinces; even though not a separate state, more power to rule, like in India; a federal state, like India. In India there are so many states, and they are all enjoying their rights of language. There is no problem if it’s like that… Even if it is not agreed to by certain extremists, I think that may be the foremost solution, at least to calm the situation. 

Have you ever had any Sinhalese friends, colleagues or neighbours?

 

Why not? I have plenty of good Sinhalese friends! In fact, when I was in the university, all the Tamil people had a Tamil room-mate. I was the only man having a Sinhalese room-mate all the four years. Because I was born and bred in Colombo, I had the knowledge of Sinhala. So I have a lot of Sinhalese friends all over.

 

• You cannot expect 100% normality or 100% rights for the Tamil people or 100% Sinhala-Tamil unity. But the only thing that should be done is to see that the Sri Lanka government doesn’t go amok. There should be some guarantor, either in the form of the United Nations, or the Commonwealth – any organisation which could have control over the government of Sri Lanka. Otherwise at any time this racism could be triggered by the government; nothing else could prevent it.

What do you think would be a solution to the conflict?

 

A solution? That’s no difficulty at all. Devolution and autonomy to the North and East, and rule out, in the constitution and in the administrative set-up, discrimination in the name of race or religion in employment and education; and make the Tamil people feel, and make them be proud, that they are Sri Lankans. And also for them to be taken into the mainstream of Sri Lankan politics. In Sri Lanka, at present, the government is Sinhalese; the central government should be a government of the Sinhalese and Tamils. We should have a separate planning division, separately for Tamils, for land, for higher education, for employment, etc., and a similar set-up for the Sinhalese, and a central government; but equal administration should be carried out from the central government to the state or regional governments.

    But now it’s not so: the central government is a Sinhala government. That situation should change. Until that happens, even if there’s a pact or peace formula signed or adopted between the Sri Lanka government and the Tamil minorities, you cannot expect fair play on the part of the Sri Lanka government to implement it. That’s why there must be someone to guarantee. When India intervened, we thought India was going to be a guarantor. But I think India has failed in that act of being a guarantor because they have not understood the real situation. 

    The proposals for autonomy are a good deal more problematic than the solutions suggested earlier; they raise, for example, questions of where the boundaries of the autonomous areas should be, the degree and scope of devolution, and the protection of minority rights within each area – for example, the rights of Muslims and Sinhalese within a predominantly Tamil area.

    However, I feel it is worth giving serious consideration to these proposals, because they are made by people who are ready to live in peace and friendship with Sinhalese people in a united Sri Lanka, although they feel that Tamil rights and security cannot be assured unless there is some form of devolution of power. Perhaps, as UTHR (Jaffna) Report No. 6 suggests, it is necessary to take this step in order to build confidence in Tamil people who have, after all, very little reason to trust a Sinhala-dominated central government.

    The refugees who wanted a federal solution, along with those quoted earlier in this chapter, formed the bulk of the Tamil refugees whom I interviewed. Their freedom from communal hatred can only be described as admirable, especially when it is remembered that all of them have suffered some kind of loss, and some have suffered intensely from torture or bereavement. It appears, perhaps, that despite their good intentions they have been powerless to influence events.

    But perhaps it is not so. If every one of these refugees had been a fervent Eelamist, ready to do his or her utmost to bring about a separate state, if the thousands of young men fleeing recruitment had joined the fighting, what would the situation be today? I believe the carnage would have been much worse, and there would be no hope of a peaceful solution. It is the refusal of the majority of Tamil refugees, despite all they have suffered, to think in crude communal terms, which keeps that hope alive even today.

    The Muslim refugees too were remarkably free of communalism in their perception of the problem. In one camp, young women said in a group discussion,

 

• We don’t want separate Tamil, Sinhala and Muslim states. We only want peace. 

Some women in a Tamil refugee camp also said that they would like all communities to live together in peace.

 

• That’s not surprising – all displaced people want peace! 

I asked a group of older women whether they would like to go back to their homes in the North:

 

• No, now we would always be afraid we might be attacked again. We would prefer to settle down in a mixed area like Colombo.

Alongside Sinhalese and Tamil people?

 

• Why not? We have no problems with either Sinhalese or Tamils. 

What do you think of the idea of a separate Tamil state?

 

• We wouldn’t like to be part of it. If there were separate Sinhala, Tamil and Muslim states, we wouldn’t mind.

But then there would be fighting over territory between all the groups, and the war would go on, wouldn’t it?

 

• Yes, that’s the problem. 

What do you think of the idea of a single state with equality and security for people of all communities?

 

• [Enthusiastically] Yes, yes, we would like that. 

    Out of the three groups of refugees I met, it was among the Sinhalese that I came across most communalism – probably the result of relentless anti-Tamil propaganda – although in the Sinhalese camps too there were impressive examples of clear-sightedness and sanity. However, the most eloquent tribute to the basic humaneness of most Sinhalese people in Sri Lanka comes, paradoxically, in the testimony of the Tamil refugees. I have already quoted several moving accounts of assistance, solidarity and friendship. Here are a few more:

 

• I’ll tell you a story. There was a man in our village who went to Colombo… He left Colombo on the day of the ’83 violence, and he simply disappeared – for about 14 days he didn’t come back. So his family performed the last rites, assuming he had been killed. Then afterwards, he was brought in by a Sinhalese. The bus had stopped 20-30 miles from Colombo on his way home, and the driver said, ‘Just clear out, I can’t go any further because of the violence.’ This man didn’t know what to do; he got down and just waited. People were being assaulted and killed and all that, and he didn’t know what to do. A mob was coming for him. Then a Sinhalese man with a knife, he caught hold of this man and he said, ‘Meya mage’ (‘This man is mine’), and took him away into the house, and kept him there in the house for 14 days, provided him with food and all that; then he took his car, put this man in, got the whole family in the car as if they were going on a trip, came to Nuwara Eliya and dropped him at home, and stayed there one or two days. So people were very happy; they collected money and offered it to them, but they refused to accept it. A lot of such incidents I have heard of. My own friends have escaped only because of help from Sinhalese friends.

 

• I stayed for one week in a Sinhalese house – otherwise I would have been arrested before leaving Sri Lanka.

 

• During the riot, some Sinhalese friends accommodated my family.

 

• I had a lot of friends among the Sinhalese – in fact I took shelter in a Sinhalese friend’s house.

 

• Before I came here, I was staying with [Sinhalese friends] for three months in Colombo.

 

• In 1958 I was saved by [Sinhalese friends], and in ’77 there were a lot of Sinhalese friends who helped us. Even in ’83… as we got out of the refugee camp, we were staying with Sinhalese friends.

 

• I think we have more Sinhalese friends than Jaffna Tamil friends! After our house was burned, they kept us in their houses till we went to Batticaloa. In fact… one Sinhalese friend kept my husband in his house for six months, and took him to the office in his car.

 

• My sister and some other relatives were affected two or three times. Twice they were attacked. They have got a lot of Sinhalese friends, and every time something happens, they take shelter with the Sinhalese friends, That’s the only reason they are still alive!

 

• I had a lot of Sinhalese friends. My husband stayed with them, and if anybody came and asked for him they would say, ‘No, there’s no person like him.’ 

So he was sheltered by them?

 

Yes, because they’re very good friends.

 

• When I was in prison, I got help from my Sinhalese friends. Actually, I like Sinhalese people. During the violence in ’77 or ’83 or ’58, some of them helped the Tamils. [This refugee was a victim of torture by the Sinhalese security forces.]

 

• During the troubles, when Tamils were attacked, our [Sinhalese] neighbours helped us by letting us stay with them. Even now my parents are staying with the Sinhalese people.

 

• When I was in jail for two years between 1985 and 1987, Sinhalese friends helped me. And then at one point I was going to be shot – one person took a gun and targeted me – but a [Sinhalese] person who knew me stopped him. He was a person who was born and brought up in my area, and because of that, he saved me – not that he was a friend exactly. 

Do you think it is possible in future for Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims to live alongside each other without fighting?

 

Yes; if there are no arms, there will be peace. (This refugee too was a victim of torture by the Sinhalese security forces.)

 

• I’ve got plenty [of Sinhalese friends]! Actually, they have saved our lives. In ’77 they helped my parents and brother, and after that, my family as a whole.

 

• In 1981 I was working in Kalutara District, and there was a big communal riot – they burned all the Tamil shops and everything, it happened in the upcountry areas. I was the only Tamil living in that town – I was running a clinic there. Nothing happened to me – so you can say they saved my life, I lived there just like a Sinhalese man, without any problem. A Sinhalese man, a very good friend of mine, he slept at my place and took precautions that nothing should happen to me – not only him, but all the people in the town, And the priests – the Buddhist monks – they took care, they asked me to come and stay with them in the pansala (temple). So like that, they made sure that nothing happened to me – I have to say that. Not only that time, but several times they helped me – and not only there, but in other places too. 

    There were other cases too of organised attempts to protect Tamils; for example, a Sinhalese civil servant in Nawalapitiya described their attempts to protect Tamils there in 1983 and 1986, and to strengthen their organisation so as to prevent riots altogether in the future.

    When all these accounts and the earlier ones are put together, they provide impressive evidence of Sinhalese contributions to Tamil survival. It does not seem to have been an exaggeration when one of the Tamil refugees said that:

 

• If you speak to anybody who was there in Sri Lanka at that time, the estimate is that about 2,500 people were killed in the 1983 riots. If the Sinhalese people hadn’t helped, the death figure would have been 50,000. Because every house has helped Tamils to escape or shelter or whatever. 

    Another refugee, himself a victim of severe torture by the Sri Lankan security forces, went even further:

 

• I used to tell our people – Tamil people who are a little communal – I used to tell them, ‘If all the Sinhalese are communal, no Tamils would be left alive in Sri Lanka! So don’t think like that!’

    It is vitally important that this side of the story should be recorded and told – not only because it is necessary to establish the truth, but also because it shows that ordinary people, acting out of spontaneous compassion and kindness, have made a significant impact on the course of Sri Lankan history. It is thanks to the many thousands of unknown people of all communities who have resisted the poison of ethnic hatred that our recent history is not uniformly shameful. And if they have been able to shift the course of history in a positive direction in the past, they can do so in the future as well.

    It is people like the majority of the refugees I interviewed, and the Sinhalese people who helped and rescued them, who can ultimately solve the problem of Sri Lankan refugees, with support and assistance from the international community, by making the whole of Sri Lanka into a genuine homeland with human and democratic rights for all its people of every ethnic community. Perhaps the first and most important step in such a process is acknowledging and publicly condemning abuses which are perpetrated in one’s name. So I end with a few questions:

To the people of Britain and other Western countries: Are you going to allow your governments to continue colluding with the Sri Lankan government, which is creating refugees, while at the same time turning the refugees away when they seek asylum?

To the Sinhalese people of Sri Lanka (and abroad): Are you going to allow political parties and the security forces to continue committing atrocities in the name of Sinhala Buddhism?

To the Tamil people of Sri Lanka (and abroad): Are you going to allow militant groups to continue committing atrocities in the name of Tamil Eelam? 

Consider your answers carefully, because they will go down in history!

 

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----- Special Report 1, Preface.

https://uthr.org/SpecialReports/spreport1.htm

----- Report No. 5, Chapter 2: Eastern Report.

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report5/chapter2.htm

---------------------- Chapter 4:

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report5/chapter4.htm

---------------------- Chapter 8: Jaffna Report.

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report5/chapter8.htm

---------------------- Chapter 9: Eastern Province, Southern Sector: https://uthr.org/Reports/Report5/chapter9.htm

----- Special Report 3:

https://uthr.org/SpecialReports/spreport3.htm#_Toc15893071

----- Report No. 7, Chapter 2: https://uthr.org/Reports/Report7/chapter2.htm

---------------------- Chapter 4:

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report7/chapter4.htm

----- Report No. 8, Chapter 2:

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report8/chapter2.htm#e

---------------------- Chapter 5:

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report8/chapter5.htm

----- Report No. 9, Chapter 3: https://uthr.org/Reports/Report9/chapter3.htm

---------------------- Chapter 5:

https://uthr.org/Reports/Report9/chapter5.htm

 

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