Region 
 

Jaffna

Quiet Resilience

Sri Lanka’s nation-building project has long centred on Sinhala Buddhist supremacy, marginalising Tamils culturally, politically, and economically.

By Daniyal Talat | April 2025


Amid torrential rain in Visuvamadu, Sri Lanka, Kavitha, a Tamil woman, stood barefoot in the mud of a former cemetery, her tears blending with the downpour. “They’re trampling on our graves,” she said, gesturing towards a nearby military base built over the burial site of Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) fighters, including her brother. The LTTE, an armed group that fought for an independent Tamil state for nearly three decades, was defeated by the Sri Lankan government in 2009.

In the aftermath, many LTTE sites, including cemeteries, were bulldozed or repurposed by the state, erasing physical remnants of Tamil resistance. On a wet November day in 2024, Kavitha joined thousands at this contested site to mark *Maaveerar Naal* (Great Heroes’ Day), an annual commemoration of fallen LTTE members. Similar gatherings occurred across Sri Lanka’s northeast, reflecting a persistent undercurrent of Tamil nationalism that defies simplistic narratives of its decline.

The scale of the 2024 commemorations attended by tens of thousands at over 200 locations stood in stark contrast to claims by some observers that Tamil nationalism had waned following recent elections. Two weeks earlier, on November 14, the National People’s Power (NPP), a left-leaning Sinhala-majority coalition, secured a historic parliamentary majority, winning 159 seats.

Notably, the NPP triumphed in all but one of the Tamil-majority districts in the northeast, including Jaffna, a traditional stronghold of Tamil nationalism. To external analysts, this signalled a rejection of separatist aspirations. Yet, for many Tamils, the vote was less about abandoning demands for autonomy than a pragmatic response to systemic failures by Tamil politicians and a desperate bid for economic relief. The NPP’s rise reflects broader anti-establishment sentiment fuelled by years of economic collapse and corruption.

The Rajapaksa family, once dominant in Sri Lankan politics, saw their influence evaporate after the 2022 uprising that ousted President Gotabaya Rajapaksa. Though reviled by Tamils for their role in the war’s brutal conclusion, including allegations of genocide, the Rajapaksas had long been celebrated in the Sinhala south as heroes for defeating the LTTE. Their dramatic fall, accelerated by mismanagement of a crippling debt crisis, created a political vacuum. The NPP positioned itself as a reformist alternative, pledging to combat corruption, revive the economy, and address ethnic grievances. For Tamils, promises to repeal the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), release political prisoners, and permit war memorials like Maaveerar Naal held particular appeal.

Kavitha, a self-described Tamil nationalist, admitted voting for the NPP, though her support was conditional. “We’re tired of empty promises from our own leaders,” she explained, referring to the Illankai Tamil Arasu Kachchi (ITAK), the largest Tamil party, long accused of prioritising elite interests over grassroots needs. Like many, she hoped the NPP would deliver economic stability while easing repression. Yet, scepticism lingers. Despite campaign pledges, the military has continued arresting Tamils under the PTA for participating in memorial events, and deadlines to vacate occupied land have passed without action. For Tamils, these are familiar patterns, overtures of reconciliation followed by broken commitments and deepening cynicism towards Colombo.


The NPP’s appeal in Tamil areas also hinges on its coalition partner, the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), a party with a fraught history. Founded in the 1960s, the JVP led two violent insurrections in 1971 and 1987–89, resulting in tens of thousands of Sinhalese deaths. During the civil war, it opposed negotiations with the LTTE and helped sabotage peace talks in the 2000s. While the NPP’s current leadership emphasises unity, the JVP’s chauvinist roots and past resistance to Tamil rights raise doubts about its sincerity. Compounding this, Sinhala-majority parties have historically weaponised concessions to Tamils to mobilise opposition, a dynamic the NPP may struggle to navigate.

Sri Lanka’s nation-building project has long centred on Sinhala Buddhist supremacy, marginalising Tamils culturally, politically, and economically. Post-independence policies, such as state-sponsored Sinhala colonisation of Tamil-majority areas and the destruction of Tamil heritage sites, entrenched this hierarchy. Tamil political parties, often led by elites complicit in Colombo’s power structures, failed to counter these trends, opting for symbolic gestures over substantive resistance.

This election’s shift toward the NPP is less a rejection of Tamil nationalism than a rebuke of this compromised leadership. Tamil voters, pragmatic and weary of stagnation, prioritised immediate economic needs over ideological purity, betting that the NPP might offer incremental progress where Tamil parties had not. Yet Tamil nationalism persists beyond electoral politics. *Maaveerar Naal* with its rituals of remembrance, such as lighting lamps and singing hymns, anchors a collective identity rooted in resistance. For many, these acts are not mere nostalgia but a reaffirmation of dignity in the face of state erasure.

The Sri Lankan government’s efforts to suppress such memorials, including by converting cemeteries into military zones, only amplify their symbolic power. This defiance underscores a broader truth: Tamil political aspirations cannot be reduced to parliamentary arithmetic. The dream of self-determination, though tempered by pragmatism, endures in cultural practices, diaspora activism, and grassroots movements.

For the NPP, the challenge is to translate campaign rhetoric into tangible change. Immediate steps could include releasing Tamil political prisoners, repealing the PTA, and returning military-occupied land to displaced communities. Halting state-backed demographic changes in the northeast, such as the construction of Buddhist temples in Tamil Hindu areas and Sinhala settlements on seized land, would signal respect for Tamil sovereignty. Addressing wartime atrocities is equally critical. Thousands of Tamils remain missing since the war’s end; their families have been denied closure. Protests by relatives of the disappeared, some lasting over a decade, highlight the state’s refusal to provide answers.

A credible transitional justice process, including accountability for wartime crimes, is essential to healing these wounds. However, Sri Lanka’s ethnocratic foundations pose structural barriers. While supportive of economic reform, the NPP’s Sinhala Buddhist base may resist concessions perceived as undermining Sinhala dominance. The coalition’s commitment to dismantling systemic inequality will be tested by its willingness to confront hardline factions within its ranks and redefine national identity in pluralistic terms. Without this, even well-intentioned reforms risk being diluted or reversed.

Tamils, scarred by decades of state violence and broken promises, approach the NPP with cautious scepticism. While some view the NPP as a departure from past regimes, others see continuity in its reluctance to challenge militarisation or acknowledge Tamil grievances. The arrest of memorial attendees under the PTA, just weeks after the election, reinforces these fears. Ultimately, Sri Lanka’s path to reconciliation hinges on confronting its past and reimagining its future.

The NPP’s mandate offers a rare opportunity to address Tamil’s justice, autonomy, and equality demands. Yet history suggests that progress will require sustained pressure, both domestically and internationally. With its transnational networks and moral authority, Tamil civil society remains a critical counterforce to state intransigence. For Kavitha and others, the struggle transcends elections; it is a fight for memory, identity, and the right to mourn. Until the state recognises these truths, Tamil nationalism will endure a quiet resilience against the tides of erasure.

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