By Jehan Perera –

Sri Lanka today is one of the more peaceful countries in the world. The Global Peace Index ranks it 57th out of 173 countries, a jump of more than 30 places in the past year. However, it must never be forgotten that Sri Lanka has also experienced periods of gruesome violence. To forget these periods or gloss over them is to risk repeating them. These include the two JVP insurrections of 1971 and 1988-89 and the recurring phases of the Eelam war from 1983 to 2009. But of all these periods of violence, the anti-Tamil violence of July 1983 stands apart. For a whole week from July 23, the country was set on fire with the Tamil people at the receiving end. One part of the government planned the conflagration while the other was paralysed and failed to protect innocent Tamil lives. In the main prison in Colombo, Tamil prisoners were massacred. Virtually the entire Tamil population of Colombo was evacuated to Jaffna.

July 1983 was more than a communal riot. It completely broke the faith of an entire community in the ability and willingness of the state to protect all its citizens equally. For many Tamils it confirmed their worst fears that they did not truly belong in the Sri Lankan polity and remained vulnerable whenever extremist forces gained the upper hand. The consequences extended far beyond the immediate loss of life and property. It accelerated the civil war, drove hundreds of thousands into exile and implanted a deep sense of insecurity that continues to shape political attitudes more than four decades later. With the passage of time, most governments, together with the majority community, have sought to downplay that dreadful period as an aberration. There is a recollection of how neighbours bravely helped those who were targeted, sometimes protecting them at great personal risk. These acts of courage deserve to be remembered and honoured. They showed the best of Sri Lankan society. Yet they do not erase the larger truth that the state failed then and continues to fail now. The issue of compensation for lost lives and property from that period continue to fester within those who were innocent victims.

A government cannot build reconciliation by celebrating individual acts of kindness while avoiding responsibility for institutional failure. Healing requires acknowledging both. Other countries provide useful examples of how states have confronted historical injustice. Germany has never attempted to minimise the Jewish Holocaust or present it merely as an unfortunate episode in its history. Memorials, museums and education ensure that every generation understands both the enormity of what occurred and the responsibility of the state to prevent its recurrence. It is noteworthy how frequently mainstream television channels in Germany continue to show historical footage of those terrible years. The purpose is not to induce permanent guilt but to cultivate permanent vigilance.

Equality Insufficient

Where minorities have experienced systematic injustice, equal treatment going forward is not enough. The state must demonstrate through words, policies and actions that it is prepared to make a sustained effort to rebuild trust. This was seen in post-apartheid South Africa. Its Truth and Reconciliation Commission did not merely proclaim equality before the law. It publicly acknowledged the suffering of victims, listened to their testimonies and sought to restore their dignity through national recognition. Even today, reconciliation in South Africa as elsewhere in the world where there has been civil conflict, continues to be a work in progress. Canada formally apologised for its treatment of Indigenous peoples and established a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to document the abuses suffered by Indigenous children in residential schools. New Zealand has gone further by negotiating settlements with Māori communities, returning land where possible and recognising cultural and language rights in ways that go beyond prohibiting discrimination. Sri Lanka has much to do in this regard, although the disasters took place more recently in historical time.

Acts of violence and other tragedies that happen to minorities are particularly poignant because minorities are often unable to protect themselves. When they become victims, the state needs to give them special consideration. They need to be reassured, as a matter of state policy, that they will always be protected. This is not preferential treatment in the ordinary sense. It is restorative treatment. Fear is not removed simply because laws promise equality. It is removed only when experience consistently demonstrates that the state will act decisively in defence of those who have reason to doubt it. There is a need to overcompensate minorities because of their sense of alienation and exclusion. This applies to dealings with them regarding both the past and the present. 

The word “overcompensate” may make some uncomfortable. Yet governments emerging from divided societies often have to bend over backwards to reassure minorities that they genuinely belong. This is not because minorities deserve greater rights than the majority. It is because they carry a greater burden of insecurity. Members of the majority generally assume that the institutions of the state belong to them. Minorities are rarely able to make that assumption so easily. They constantly look for signs that they are accepted as equal stakeholders and not merely tolerated on sufferance. Although the constitution states that both Sinhala and Tamil are official languages, much of state business still takes place in the Sinhala language in the north and particularly the east with resulting grievance building up among Tamil speakers.

Unanswered Calls

Unkept government commitments are not limited to the minorities. The mainstream opposition accuses the government of failing to honour promises made to the population at large. In that sense, broken promises are a common grievance shared by both majority and minority communities. But there is an important difference. When a promise to the majority is broken, it creates disappointment. When a promise to a minority is broken, it revives historical fears and with it come the build up of mistrust and hatred. The emotional and political consequences are therefore much greater. Elected Tamil leaders complain that the government leadership is inaccessible and does not even return their phone calls. This may not reflect deliberate discrimination. Government leaders may simply be inaccessible to everyone. But in deeply divided societies perception matters. 

If reconciliation is to be a national goal, governments cannot afford to behave in ways that leave minorities feeling neglected or ignored. Every unanswered phone call, postponed meeting and unfulfilled promise reinforces the belief that minority concerns have once again been relegated to the bottom of the national agenda. The same principle applies to the conduct of the security forces. Actions regarded by the majority as legitimate and necessary, such as surveillance, may be interpreted very differently by communities that have experienced decades of surveillance, military occupation and violence. This does not mean compromising national security. It means recognising that security and reconciliation must go together. A professional security establishment strengthens national unity when it exercises sensitivity and restraint in its dealings with minority communities. 

The lesson of July 1983 is that when minorities lose confidence in the state, the consequences can last for generations. Reconciliation demands more than equal rights and non-discrimination. Those are the minimum standards expected in any democracy. The NPP government needs to go beyond that minimum standard to build confidence among those who have reason to distrust it. Fast tracking the implementation of promises made in its election manifesto, such as finding missing persons, return of land and holding provincial council elections, while maintaining regular dialogue with the elected representatives of minority communities is most important. A government with a national vision will understand that making this extra effort is not a concession to minorities but a necessary investment in national unity.