As one of Asia’s oldest conflicts in one of Asia’s oldest democracies seemingly comes to a dark, bloody conclusion, a number of questions about the war in Sri Lanka and the ideological banners under which it marched come to the forefront: What is the value of a democracy if the price is self-determination? What is the value of territorial control if the price is social cohesion? What is the value of a national political unity if the price is a national political identity? What is the value of power if the price is human life?

These questions are complex and echo in many places around the globe where non-state actors control territory: with the Zapatistas in Mexico, the FARC in Colombia, and the Maoists in Nepal. Although the groups may be condemned terrorists, there comes a point when one wonders whether adopting absolutist “us vs. them” rhetoric is worth it.

I certainly do not pretend to know the answers to the moral quandaries. But I do know that, now that the Sri Lankan state has defeated the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, more commonly referred to as the Tamil Tigers, the government’s value rigidity—all of its black-and-white moralizing of the conflict—must cease if there is to be any chance at a permanent peace and a brighter future. More specifically, as the state finishes off the rebels, it must promise to address the political grievances of the minority groups whom the rebels claim to defend. Tamils, in particular, must be granted equal political rights and be given the ability to direct affairs where they constitute a majority.

Now, as military conflict—but certainly not everyday social conflict or even paramilitary conflict—descends into stasis, it is worth meditating upon what the war has been worth. Amidst all the rhetoric of doubts and redoubts, one practical concern should worry President Rajapaksa in particular: What are the chances of a legitimized nation-state if an entire ethnic group feels that it has, for the last 25 years, been a target for elimination or, as the more impassioned critics claim, genocide?

There is no doubt that the Tigers are a dangerous terrorist group. Even now, on the eve of the last battle, they defend their position with human shields: Tamil women and children. But the Tigers are not the Tamil population, and it does not follow that the legitimate claims of those who see them as freedom fighters should be unduly ignored. It’s been total war thus far, and both the state and the tigers have committed severe human-rights violations (the state itself has refused to allow the United Nations Human Rights Council to conduct an investigation). It is in Sri Lanka’s best interest not to pretend that ethnic violence on both sides did not occur. A sustainable peace cannot include any demonization of the Tamils, whether it is direct or indirect through the continued framing of the Tigers—who are heroes to many Tamil youth—as the source of all evil on the island.

Since the 1980s, at least, the center of Sri Lankan politics has been dominated by Sinhalese Buddhists. Tamil Hindus and Muslims have often gotten the short end of the stick with regard to education, discriminatory language policies, and pogroms and political gerrymandering in their traditional homeland.

The Tamils are clearly not going to be given autonomy over their homeland. But they must be given equal political rights and at least the majority of the say in what goes on where they live. Dr. Amartya Sen has stated that the Sri Lankan government long ago forsook the “richness of plurality” and pushed Tamils to the peripheries of power. They must rediscover that richness and bring them back into the fold. Tamils must be granted the immediate ability to not only non-violently control affairs where they live, but also to have a voice in the national government, so that they may one day consider themselves just as Sri Lankan as the Sinhalese.

Sri Lankans, whether Tamil Hindus, Sinhalese Buddhist, or Muslims, should not have to choose between multiculturalism and political rights on the one hand and national security and the safety of their children on the other. Before the official end of the war, a promise must be made to address many of the Tamil grievances—short of independence—that fueled the fire in the first place. There cannot simply be a victor’s peace, for that is no peace.

Once upon a time, the island of Sri Lanka was predicted to become the fifth Asian Tiger. That dream of prosperity can still be realized. But the state must adopt a more mature perspective on the possibilities of peace and prosperity. Nothing good will come through an asymmetric imposition of power based on ethnic lines. As Martin Luther King once said, “In the final analysis, the end is pre-existent in the means.” If sustainable peace is to be an end for Sri Lanka, the government must embody a new set of values as it mops up the conflict and begins to lay the foundations for a new society.


Raúl A. Carrillo ’10, a Crimson editorial writer, is a social studies concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears regularly.