Sri Lanka’s Post-war Crisis
Sri Lanka’s Post-war Crisis
S. Senanayake reports from Sri Lanka
THE DEATH of Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) leader Velupillai Prabhakaran on May 19 was met with jubilation within much of the majority Sinhalese community. For many, it signaled the end of over twenty-six years of war and violence and offered the possibility of an almost unprecedented era of peace in post-colonial Sri Lanka. In some Tamil enclaves, the news was received with trepidation. While many Tamils were thankful that the war was over, the elimination of the LTTE meant that now there was no one to stand up for them. Many were frightened that the government, riding a wave of ethnic Sinhalese nationalism after the end of the war, might move to marginalize the Tamil community further.
President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s victory in Sri Lanka’s January presidential election has not helped to alleviate the worries of human rights advocates and many in the Tamil community. The lead-up to the election was marred by sporadic violence, and while election monitors deemed the polling generally free and fair, there were numerous reports of voting irregularities and intimidation–mostly aimed at Tamil voters in the north. The results of the election fell along ethnic lines, with Rajapaksa winning in predominantly Sinhalese areas, but losing badly in regions where Tamils constitute a majority. While the election was presented by the victorious incumbent as the beginning of a new era of peace and prosperity, it has also created significant anxiety over the treatment of minorities in Sri Lanka.
War Crimes
There is little doubt that the military defeat of the LTTE last spring was decisive. As recently as 2006, the LTTE controlled the bulk of northern and eastern Sri Lanka and ran a de facto government with its own police force, banks, and judicial system. But over the past three years, the Sri Lankan Army (SLA) has been able to recapture all LTTE-held territory and eliminate the group’s leaders.
The military victory, though, came with a very steep price—particularly during the final stages of the conflict. Based on UN figures, from January 2009 to April 2009, the fighting killed more than 7,000 civilians. Other estimates indicate that the civilian death toll could be as high as 20,000 by the time the war concluded on May 19.
With journalists and independent monitors barred from the war zone, it is difficult to verify what actually occurred during the final phase of the conflict. But the government’s tight control of information has made the demonstration of war crimes difficult—not impossible—and what emerges from photographs, satellite imagery, documents, and first-hand testimony from individuals trapped in the war zone is that both sides had indiscriminately killed civilians during the conflict.
In October, the U.S. State Department issued a report cataloguing numerous violations by both sides from January to May, including the SLA shelling of hospitals and the LTTE shooting of civilians trying to escape the war zone. In August, the U.K. television station, Channel 4, broadcast video footage of the execution of eight Tamil men by what appear to be SLA soldiers. The government quickly denounced the footage, claiming it was doctored to discredit their security forces. But in early January, Phillip Alston–the UN Special Rapporteur on Extrajudicial, Summary, or Arbitrary Executions–said that three independent experts concluded the video was authentic. (This statement was met with continued denials by the Sri Lankan government.)
The issue of war crimes also entered into the election contest between incumbent President Rajapaksa and the opposition candidate Sarath Fonseka. In a December interview with the Sunday Leader, Fonseka said Defense Secretary Gotabhaya Rajapaksa (the president’s brother) had ordered ground commanders to shoot surrendering LTTE leaders and their family members during the last stages of the war. Fonseka later backtracked and said no field commanders had violated the laws of war.
However, the government’s unwillingness to allow journalists and independent monitors near the combat zone has only deepened the perception that there is something to hide. In an October lecture I attended, Tamil National Alliance (TNA) leader Rajavarothiam Sampanthan argued that the government’s unwillingness to engage with foreign de-mining organizations was motivated by its fear that they may unearth evidence of war crimes, such as mass graves.
An impartial and transparent investigation of alleged war crimes perpetrated by both sides needs to be carried out to uncover what occurred during the final stages of the conflict and to lay the foundation for political reconciliation. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that the Sri Lankan government will make any serious attempts to establish an independent inquiry, particularly if it might implicate leading members of the government and military. In November, President Rajapaksa established a special committee to investigate the allegations in the U.S. State Department report. But the committee, comprised of individuals with ties to the current regime, was meant to present its findings to the president by December 31 and has had its mandate extended until April.
With respect to a “truth and reconciliation” commission similar to the South African model, the government has been evasive at best. When asked about such a commission during a June 2009 Time interview, President Rajapaksa dismissed the idea arguing that he did not “want to dig into the past.”
The Internally Displaced Persons and Resettlement
The conclusion of the war left the Sri Lankan government with a massive humanitarian emergency: nearly 300,000 internally displaced persons (IDPs) streaming out of the war zone. The government responded by putting the majority in a series of military-run camps, the largest of which is Menik Farm, located outside the northern town of Vavuniya. At its most crowded in mid-June, Menik Farm had a population of more than 220,000 people, making it the country’s second-most densely populated area next to Colombo.
The government kept the displaced persons in the camps with little or no access to the outside world. Opposition MPs and Tamil politicians whose constituents were in the camps were barred from entering the facilities. The government claimed the need to screen potential LTTE cadres—who had mixed with the IDP population—but the screening process has been extremely opaque. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) has been prevented from monitoring how the government weeds out suspected LTTE cadres. Diplomats, humanitarian aid workers, and human rights activists know very little about it and one aid worker argued that with such a lack of transparency, the process of determining who is an LTTE cadre seems arbitrary.
While conditions at the camps were initially dire, they have steadily improved. In late November, the government announced that the camps would be opened and all displaced persons would be granted freedom of movement—a move widely believed to curry favor among Tamils for the upcoming presidential election. However, the government instituted a pass system, where an IDP individual/family could exit the camp for up to two weeks. This simply created a new, though reduced, set of restrictions on movement.
The resettlement process has also not gone smoothly. During my visit to Vavuniya (I was not allowed in the camps), several NGO workers told me that that the IDP resettlement process has been haphazard and dangerous. Displaced persons are being sent to areas that have not received a mine clearance certification and there is a clear lack of protection monitoring on the ground. There are no comprehensive lists for UNHCR or other monitoring groups to keep track of which IDPs have been sent home, and there are also reports of IDPs being re-arrested after their release.
One humanitarian worker with regular access to the camps argued that displaced persons are being released but not resettled. “In some villages there are no homes, schools, clinics or transportation to the nearest sizable town,” he said. “And without any follow-up monitoring, what will happen to these people? It has the makings of another humanitarian crisis.”
Moreover, there is speculation among the Tamil community that the prolonged confinement of IDPs was a concerted move by the government to again marginalize ethnic Tamils. A prominent Tamil NGO worker argued the detention of the IDPs was a form of collective punishment against the Tamil community for supporting the LTTE, even though in most instances they had little choice. He added that the government is using the detention of the IDPs to reinforce its military presence in the region and that it is making concerted efforts to dilute the ethnic makeup of the north, which is overwhelmingly Tamil, by resettling Sinhalese in the region.
The “Sinhalization” of the north is a serious concern among many Tamils and NGO workers. Speculation is rampant that with such a large military presence in the north, the government would establish residences for the families of soldiers, who are mainly Sinhalese. A prominent human rights lawyer said that one of the clearest signs of Sinhalization in the north is the appearance of more Buddhist temples and statues, since the vast majority of Sinhalese are Buddhists.
The issue of who has the right to develop which lands is also a volatile issue. There are concerns that some of the most highly fertile lands and valuable coastal areas in the north will be offered to politically connected individuals or Sinhalese settlers instead of local Tamils. Many Tamils received approval by the LTTE to develop certain lands, and with the demise of the group, it unclear how the government will deal with their land claims.
Hopes for a Political Settlement
With the TNA—the former political proxy of the LTTE and the largest Tamil political alliance—in disarray, Tamils currently do not have a strong national advocate. One prominent local NGO figure told me that at this point there is no space in the north for political organization since its civil society is relatively non-existent in the face of a massive security presence. As a result, there does not seem to be much hope that the Sri Lankan government will put forth a durable political solution that will address the underlying grievances of the Tamil community.
Much of this has to do with a simple lack of political will. While many Tamils condemned the LTTE’s violent tactics, including the use of suicide bombers and the assassination of Tamil moderates, the group was able to force the government into having serious discussions about the possibility of power-sharing. But without the LTTE or any other significant Tamil political force, the government has no initiative to pursue a political solution—particularly if such a solution involves provoking the ire of the Sinhalese nationalists, many of whom oppose the idea of power-sharing.
What may end up happening is the imposition of a political settlement without the involvement of Sri Lanka’s minority groups. The All Party Representative Committee (APRC) appointed by Rajapaksa in 2006 to seek constitutional reforms is an example of this. While many view the work of the APRC as a viable means of creating a foundation for a political settlement, the TNA was not invited to be a part of the committee, and in my meeting with APRC chairman—the Minister or Science and Technology Tissa Vitharana—he admitted that it was a mistake not to include the TNA.
A unilateral political solution, no matter how benign, would be a dangerous tactic for the government. It would underscore the fears felt by many Tamils that they have no voice and continue to be marginalized by the Sinhalese-dominated government. And it might lead to further disillusionment with the political process and the rise of future militants who are willing to use violence as means to affect change. This is something Sri Lankans do not want to see happen again, but with President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s reelection and his poor track record of reaching out to Tamils, lasting peace will still be very difficult to attain.
Sumedha Senanayake is the Middle East/North Africa analyst at iJET International, a risk consultancy, and recently returned from a four-month trip to Sri Lanka. He is Sinhalese. (Photo: Sumedha Senanayake)
