Malibaikkal, Sri Lanka – On a beach in northeastern Sri Lanka, Krishnan Anjan Jeevarani laid out some of the family’s favorite groceries on banana leaves. She placed a large bottle of samosa, lollipop and Pepsi next to the flowers and incense sticks in front of the framed photo.
Jeevarani was one of the thousands of Tamils who gathered on May 18th to mark the 16th year since the end of Sri Lanka’s brutal civil war in Malivikkar. This was the site of the final battle between the government and the Liberation Tiger of Tamil Eelam, a separatist group that fought against Tamil’s hometown.
Like previous anniversary, Tamils lit candles this year, remembering their loved ones and embraced moments of silence. People dressed in black paid respect and ate kanji before the memorial fire. This is the terrible thing consumed by civilians when they were trapped in Marivical amid acute food shortages.
This year’s commemoration was first held under a new government led by leftist Anura Kumala Disnayake, who was elected president in September and is hoping for justice and hope for answers for the Tamil community.
The Tamil community claims that civilian massacres took place at the final stage of the war, with nearly 170,000 people estimated to have been killed by government forces. The UN estimate sets this number to 40,000.
Disnayake, the leader of Marxist party Janatha Vimkuti Peramuna (JVP), who led the violent uprising against the Sri Lankan government in the 1970s and 1980s, emphasizes his aim to “uniform the nation” and wipe out racism. He made several promises to Tamil voters before last election. This includes withdrawal from the military territory of Tamil Heartland and the release of political prisoners.
But eight months after he was elected, these commitments are now being tested. And although it’s still early for his administration, many of the Tamil community say that they’re mixing up what they’ve seen so far, not just some progress, but disappointing.
There is no “climate of fear,” but there is no “real change.”
In March 2009, Jeevarani lost several members of her family, including her parents, sister and three-year-old daughter, when Sri Lankan forces fired a tent refuge near Malivikkar.
“We just cooked and ate, and were happy,” she said. “When the shell fell, it seemed we had awakened from our dreams.”
Jeevarani, now 36, buried his entire family in a bunker and left the area. In May 2009, she and her family’s surviving members entered the territory controlled by the Army.
Now, 16 years later, as she and other Sri Lankan Tamils commemorate their lost family, most people said their memorials were barely blocked, but there have been reports that police have confused one event in the eastern part of the country.
This contrasted with previous years’ state crackdowns on such memorial events.
“There is no climate of terror that existed between the two Rajapaksa regimes,” said Ambika Satunanathan, a human rights lawyer and former chairman of the Sri Lanka National Human Rights Commission, referring to former Presidents Mahinda and Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who ruled between them for 13 years.
It was under Mahinda Rajapaksa that Sri Lankan military carried out the final bloody attack that ended the war in 2009 amid allegations of human rights abuse.
“But something has changed substantially [under Dissanayake]? Not that yet,” Satnanathan said.
Satkunanathan seized the land in Maribaikal as a problematic example of Sri Lanka’s continued use of the controversial Terrorist Prevention Act (PTA) and the official gazette issued on March 28, seizing the land in Maribaikal as a problematic example of the manifesto’s promises covered by a clear lack of transparency.
Despite his pre-election promises, the Disnayake government earlier this month denounced the Tamil claims of Genocide as “a false tale.” On May 19, a day after the Tamil Memorial, Dissanayake also attended the Sri Lankan military’s “War Heroes” celebration, and the Ministry of Defense announced the promotion of many military and naval personnel. In his speech, Dissanayake suggests a reconciliatory attitude, saying that “sadness is ignorant of ethnicity” and at the same time pays tribute to the “fallen hero” of the army, “we honor our hearts forever.”
“We walked over the corpses.”
Kathirvel Soliyakumari, a retired principal at 60 years old, said that the casualties at the 2009 Marivikal were so extreme that “we had to walk on the corpses.”
She claims that government forces used white phosphorus during the Civil War, Sri Lankan authorities have repeatedly denied it. Although not expressly prohibited, many legal scholars interpret international law as banning the use of white phosphorus, a calcined Cen chemical that can burn the skin to the bone in densely populated areas.
Sooriyakumari’s husband, Rasenthiram, died in an attack near Mullivaikkal while trying to protect others.
“He was sending everyone to the bunker. He was about to send everyone to himself when a shell hit a tree and bouncing off and hit him, he died,” she said. His internal organs were coming out, but “he lifted his head and looked around all of us, making sure we were safe.”
Her son was only seven months old. “He’s never seen his father’s face,” she said.
The war left many households like Soliyakumari, with no earners. They have experienced even more keen food shortages following Sri Lanka’s 2022 economic crisis and subsequent increase in living costs.
“If we are hungry, would someone come and check us out?” Manoharan Kalimuthu, 63, said that his son left the bunker to soften himself and died in Marivikal after being attacked by a cannonball. “If they’re there [children who died in the final stages of the war] They were here, they would have looked after us. ”
Kalimuthu said he doesn’t think the new government will bring justice to the Tamils, saying, “We can only believe it when we see it.”
“No accountability”
Sooriyakumari also said he does not believe anything will change under the new administration.
“There have been a lot of talk, but no action. The foundation hasn’t been laid out. How can you believe it?” she told Al Jazeera. “So many Sinhalese people have recently understood and supported us…but the government is opposed to us.”
She also expressed doubts about the JVP party of Dissanayake and its history of violence, saying that she and the wider Tamil community were “previously scared of the JVP.” The party was supporting the Rajapaksa government when the army crushed the Tamil separatist movement.
Sutkunanathan said the JVP’s track record was “they supported Rajapaksas and saw them as war, anti-devolution, anti-international communities, all anti-UN, and all conspiring against Sri Lanka.”
She acknowledged that the party wanted it to show that it “evolved into a more progressive position, but their actions were beyond rhetoric.”
The government of Dissanayake has announced plans to establish a Truth and Reconciliation Committee, but like the previous government, it rejected a resolution by the UN Human Rights Council on accountability for war crimes. Before the presidential election, Dissanayake said he would not attempt to prosecute the person responsible for war crimes.
“They are not moving at all about accountability for wartime violations,” Satunanathan told Al Jazeera, citing the government’s refusal to engage with the uninitiated Sri Lanka Accountability Project (SLAP), which was set up to gather evidence of potential war crimes. “I want you to prove me wrong.”
The government has also repeatedly changed its stance on the amendments to the Sri Lanka constitution. This promises delegated authority to the majority Tamil regions of the north and east. Before the presidential election, Dissanayake supported the implementation at a meeting with the Tamil party, but the government has not outlined a clear plan for this.
“I need an answer.”
“Six months after taking office, there is no plan or intention of the new government to address the most urgent grievances of the Tamils affected by the war,” said Tiagiruwanpatirana, a South Asian researcher at Amnesty International. “And the truth about the forced disappearance is characterized by high traits on the agenda of the North and East.”
Still, like 48-year-old Krishnapillai Sothilakshmi, she remains hopeful. Sothilakshmi’s husband Senthivel was forced to disappear in 2008. She said she believes the new government will give her the answer.
2017 Report by Amnesty International [PDF] It was estimated that from the late 1980s to 60,000 to 100,000 people have disappeared in Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka established the office of the Missing Persons (OMPs) in 2017, but there have been no clear progress since.
“We need an answer. Are they alive? We want to know,” Sothilakshmi said.
But for Jeevarani, she is too late for hope as she is crying on the beach after seeing a photo of her 3-year-old daughter Nira. The palm trees are growing on her family’s graves, and she can no longer even determine the exact location where they were buried.
“If someone is sick, this government or government can say they will cure them,” she said. “But can’t the government recover the deaths?”
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