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SRI LANKA & DIASPORAS

Observatoire pluridisciplinaire

SRI LANKA & DIASPORAS

“Digitising Malay writing in Sri Lanka – Endangered Archives Program” by Sophie Hénon (Les Carnets du CASE)

EAP609 : Digitising Malay writing in Sri Lanka – Endangered Archives Program (British Library)

Dr Ronit Ricci, The Australian University
Archival partner: National Archives of Sri Lanka
 
Project Overview
 

This project aims to create a digital archive of Malay writing (including manuscripts, printed books, letters, other documents) held in private collections in Sri Lanka. Written for the most part in Arabic script (but also in the Roman, Tamil and Sinhala scripts) by descendants of exiles, convicts, and soldiers from the Indonesian archipelago and the Malay Peninsula between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries, these rare and fragile documents attest to social and cultural aspects of the community’s life, allow for an expansion of our definitions of the ‘Malay World,’ and provide insight into local forms of Islam. There is urgent need to document and preserve such collections, endangered not only by tropical weather and the ravages of time, but also by their owners’ lack of knowledge in archival preservation and a contemporary ignorance regarding the manuscripts’ content and significance …

The project will result in the creation of a digital archive freely available to all. Copies will be accessible via the National Archives of Sri Lanka, the British Library and the library at the Australian National University.

Project Outcome

The project encompasses a range of materials written in the Malay language, in Sri Lanka, from around the mid 19th century to the late 20th century. It includes manuscipts, printed books, prayer booklets, wedding invitations, personal letters, family records, poems and songs. These diverse materials testify to the variety of ways in which Malay was, and is, used in Sri Lanka. The majority of older materials are Islamic in nature, including theological manuals, poems in praise of the Prophet, and tales and histories written in the hikayat genre. These are written in gundul (Malay-Arabic script) and/or romanised Malay. The collection also includes modern examples of Malay written in the Tamil and Sinhala script, as well as older materials in Arabic and Arabu-Tamil owned by Malay families, testifying to the lingusitic and orthographic diversity of the community’s writing practices.

For more informations : http://eap.bl.uk/database/overview_project.a4d?projID=EAP609;r=41

To consult texts : http://eap.bl.uk/database/results.a4d?projID=EAP609;r=41

Source: Sophie Hénon (28 février 2017). Digitising Malay writing in Sri Lanka – Endangered Archives Program. Les carnets du CASE. Consulté le 31 mars 2026 à l’adresse https://doi.org/10.58079/m861

Press article – “Tamil Elites May Call the NPP ‘Old Sinhala Nationalism in Disguise,’ but Ordinary Tamils See a Progressive Force” — Jayadeva Uyangoda (The Morning)

Interview of Professor Jayadeva Uyangoda in Jaffna Monitor

https://www.jaffnamonitor.com/featured/tamil-elites-may-call-the-npp-old-sinhala-nationalism-in-disguise-but-ordinary-tamils-see-a-progressive-force-jayadeva-uyangoda

Jayadeva Uyangoda, Professor Emeritus of Political Science at the University of Colombo, is one of Sri Lanka’s leading scholars on ethnic conflict, peace processes, nationalism, democracy, and leftist politics. Before becoming one of the country’s most influential political scientists, Uyangoda had been briefly involved with the early Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) movement founded by Rohana Wijeweera and was imprisoned after the 1971 uprising.

A former activist with a Ph.D. from Colombo, he has spent decades dissecting Sri Lanka’s post-independence political struggles—majoritarian ethnocracy, civil war legacies, militarization, and the rise of populist forces—while advocating pluralist, class-sensitive paths toward reconciliation and genuine democratization.

His landmark recent work is the two-volume Democracy and Democratisation in Sri Lanka: Paths, Trends and Imaginations (2023). Through incisive academic analysis and public commentary, Uyangoda has emerged as a principled left-liberal critic of both Sinhala and Tamil elite nationalisms, arguing that ethnic justice must be intertwined with broader social emancipation in South Asia’s most fractious democracy.

This is his exclusive interview with Jaffna Monitor.

The JVP led two violent insurrections in 1971 and 1987–89 that resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of mainly Sinhala youth, many of them killed by the state’s security forces. Today, the NPP governs the very police and military institutions that once hunted and destroyed the JVP. How do you explain this transformation—from insurgent movement to custodian of the state? Is it comparable to other revolutionary movements’ transitions into democratic politics, or is it fundamentally different because the JVP never underwent a genuine political or moral reckoning with its violent past?

Revolutionary movements are almost always guided by visions and projects aimed at capturing and exercising state power. Some have succeeded through revolution itself. Many of them have been nationalist in character, others socialist, and still others religious-nationalist.

The JVP’s path to political power has been long, protracted, and tortuous. There were two attempts to capture state power through armed uprisings, both of which proved extremely costly. After the failure of the revolutionary path, the JVP gradually explored the peaceful and electoral route to power. That transformation itself took a considerable amount of time.

There are several historical examples of revolutionary movements that have successfully transformed themselves into parliamentary parties and become part of the political mainstream. One well-known case is Sinn Féin, closely associated with the Irish Republican Army in Northern Ireland. The armed struggle against British rule there had a long history spanning more than 150 years. The conflict formally came to an end in 1998 with the Good Friday Agreement between the British government and the republican leadership. In the years that followed, Sinn Féin contested elections, won seats in the Northern Ireland Assembly, and became one of the principal governing parties. Today it is widely regarded as a legitimate and respected political force.

A second example comes from South Asia, specifically Nepal. The Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) led a guerrilla war against the monarchy. Following the UN-mediated peace accord in 2006, the Maoists entered parliamentary politics, won national elections, and formed a coalition government with other left-wing parties. Led by Pushpa Kamal Dahal, the Maoists governed Nepal twice. However, after embracing parliamentary politics and moving into the political mainstream, the Maoist movement gradually lost much of its radical socialist fervour and came to resemble a conventional political party. This transformation involved politically and ethically costly compromises, as former rebels became part of a parliamentary system long troubled by corruption and transactional politics. For some observers, Nepal’s Maoists provide a sobering example of how the institutional pressures of parliamentary politics can reshape revolutionary movements.

There are several additional examples from Africa and Latin America. The African National Congress in South Africa, the Sandinista National Liberation Front in Nicaragua, and the Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front in El Salvador all followed comparable trajectories. In South Africa, for instance, critics argue that after the death of Nelson Mandela, sections of the ANC leadership lost much of their liberationist vision and became associated with corruption and the pursuit of power. Many senior figures and mid-level cadres were seen to have undergone what critics described as “bourgeoisification.” In Nicaragua, too, elements of the Sandinista leadership were widely perceived as succumbing to the temptations of power and wealth, while democratic ideals became increasingly marginalized. Most of these examples suggest that ex-rebel movements that have taken the risk of joining the political mainstream should be cautious of the trap of de-radicalization.

Sri Lanka’s own experience also offers examples. Several Tamil militant groups that entered mainstream politics after the Indo-Lanka Accord followed a similar trajectory of political degeneration. Some of them became aligned with rival factions of the Sinhala ruling class—particularly the Sri Lanka Freedom Party and the United National Party—in exchange for cabinet positions and other material benefits. In the end, their pursuit of power and patronage undermined their political credibility and largely ended their relevance.

The JVP therefore carries a historically significant responsibility: to prove itself an exception to this pattern—to demonstrate that a former revolutionary movement can enter parliamentary politics without abandoning its founding ideals. The JVP leaders appear to be aware of the crucial need to avoid the political and moral costs of de-radicalization.

The JVP’s transformation also has a distinctive history. In many countries, revolutionary movements enter parliamentary politics through negotiated peace agreements mediated by external actors. Such agreements usually involve the surrender of weapons, the dismantling of armed units, the reintegration of fighters into civilian life, incentives to join mainstream politics, and security guarantees.

By contrast, the JVP’s decision to enter parliamentary politics in the early 1990s was taken unilaterally by its new leadership. There were no formal conditions imposed by the Sri Lankan state or by any external mediator to shape its post-insurgency trajectory.

In that sense, the JVP’s case is unique. Its shift toward democratic politics was a voluntary and autonomous decision. There was no negotiated peace settlement, no security guarantees, and no institutional process such as a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to facilitate public acknowledgement of past violence by all parties involved.

Yet these absences should not diminish the significance of the JVP’s decision to enter democratic politics without external pressure. It is also worth recalling that its leaders have, on several occasions, expressed regret about the violence of the past. One example is the speech delivered in Parliament by Bimal Rathnayake during the debate on the Batalanda Commission Report. His remarks, which appeared to draw inspiration from figures such as Nelson Mandela and Barack Obama, were widely seen as morally persuasive.

A contrasting experience can be seen in Tamil insurgent organizations such as the Eelam People’s Revolutionary Liberation Front, People’s Liberation Organisation of Tamil Eelam, and the Eelam People’s Democratic Party, which entered mainstream politics after the Indo-Lanka Accord under political and security guarantees provided by both the Indian and Sri Lankan states.

The key question now concerns the kind of democratic politics the JVP intends to pursue. The party has pledged to cleanse democratic institutions and political processes of corruption and authoritarian control, and to free Sri Lanka’s democracy from its illiberal and authoritarian constraints. No other political party in Sri Lanka has undertaken—or even claimed to undertake—such an ambitious and difficult task.

 

 

 

You have argued that Sri Lankan democracy operates through what you call “authoritarian constitutionalism.” The NPP came to power promising systemic change, yet now governs within the same executive-presidential framework and relies on coercive laws such as the PTA and proposed PSTA. Can a government realistically reform a structure from which it derives power, or will it reproduce the same authoritarian patterns as its predecessors?

If a government believes that the constitutional source of its power is morally flawed, even if it remains legally valid, it has the authority to alter that source of power and derive both legality and legitimacy by establishing a new constitutional order. The question you appear to raise is whether the NPP government will choose to do so. It certainly possesses both legal and moral authority, derived directly from the people through the most recent presidential and parliamentary elections. But does it have the political will? That, perhaps, is the real question.

Personally, I am also puzzled by the government’s apparent reluctance to abrogate the existing Constitution and substantially revise the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) within the framework of the rule of law and a more advanced system of procedural democracy. At this stage, I can only offer speculation, speaking as a political commentator.

My speculative thesis is as follows: The NPP government has a transformative agenda. It is not a revolutionary agenda. Nor is it merely reformist, as has been the case with most of the governments we have had in the past. Transformation represents a stage of change that lies between reform and revolution. Policy reforms are adjustments that introduce relatively minor changes and usually generate only mild resistance in society. By contrast, transformative efforts by a government to remake the familiar order through drastic systemic changes can provoke sustained resistance, particularly from those who have benefited from the old system. Even corrupt and inefficient systems of governance produce their own beneficiaries, who will resist any attempt to alter the rules of the game. The resistance of the guardians of the ancien régime can be unpredictable and may even turn violent in one form or another. When the contradictions between the old and the new order sharpen, what will ultimately be at stake is state power. Instinctively, the NPP leadership must be aware that it may have to prepare for an open confrontation between the old and the new political classes.

You have argued that resolving Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict requires Sinhala society to recognize Tamil political agency, not merely offer administrative decentralization. The NPP promises Provincial Council elections but avoids discussing enhancement of the 13th Amendment, while its Sinhala-Buddhist support base includes strong currents historically opposed to devolution. Taken together, does this indicate that the NPP is not truly prepared to offer meaningful power-sharing to Tamil areas? In your view, is the party fundamentally willing to devolve political power to Tamils, or does it still interpret the Tamil question primarily as a class or economic problem rather than an ethnic and political one?

In my view, a new phase of dialogue toward a constitutional settlement must begin, given that a new government—one that claims to represent a break from the policies of previous administrations—is now in power. Tamil political leaders, however, appear to expect the NPP government to continue the same negotiation framework they had established with earlier Sri Lankan governments, the old ruling class, and the Indian state, leaving little independent political agency to the NPP leadership. Labelling the NPP as merely “another Sinhala government” reflects a sense of political impatience and despair, and it risks sending counterproductive signals both to the government and to the Tamil people.

What is urgently needed is direct engagement between the NPP government and Tamil political leaders to explore a genuinely new beginning—to develop a new political vocabulary capable of enabling meaningful and productive dialogue, and to inaugurate a new discourse within which a constitutional settlement can be imagined beyond the limitations of the traditional devolution framework, toward the deepening of democracy.

Let me offer one example of the limitations of the much-venerated devolution framework as a starting point for fresh thinking about a democratic solution to what has long been understood as Sri Lanka’s ethnic problem. It is time to recognize, even if belatedly, that ethnic problems do not necessarily have purely ethnic solutions, as Tamil nationalist politics has often assumed for decades. This is a fundamental lesson drawn from the experiences of many other societies. What is required instead are democratic solutions capable of reconciling nationalist aspirations for regional autonomy with the demands for political, social, and class emancipation of ethnic minority communities.

In Sri Lanka, a democratic solution to minority ethnic grievances has often been imagined as one that enables regional minority elites to emerge as regional ruling classes. This approach overlooks the aspirations for political recognition, representation, and self-rule among smaller regional and local minorities. Almost all provinces—including the Northern, Eastern, Central, and Western provinces—contain not only regional majorities but also regional and local minorities, whose identities are shaped by both ethnic and social differences.

Viewed from this perspective, conventional models of devolution appear increasingly inadequate, as they fail to address the sovereign rights to political equality and representation of smaller and dispersed minority communities within provinces and districts. In other words, a genuinely democratic solution to Sri Lanka’s ethnic question requires deep democratic alternatives. This calls for revising our political vocabulary itself: moving from federalism to deep federalization, from devolution to deep power-sharing, and from decentralization to genuine local democracy. Empowering local communities of ordinary citizens is as important as elevating regional elites to positions of authority.

You have shown how the old left (LSSP and CP) abandoned its internationalist principles by accommodating Sinhala nationalism in the 1950s–70s, and how it failed to develop a serious theoretical engagement with Tamil nationalism—often dismissing it as false consciousness or elite manipulation. Colvin R. de Silva’s shift from “two languages, one nation” to endorsing the 1972 Constitution symbolized this collapse of anti-chauvinist politics. The NPP/JVP is now the first left government since that era. In your view, is it repeating the old left’s historic pattern of subordinating minority justice to majoritarian politics, or has it genuinely broken from that legacy? And on what grounds should Tamils believe that this time will be different?

There is continuity as well as a break. The nationalist turn of the JVP in the 1980s has a parallel with the shift of the Left toward Sinhala nationalism during the 1960s and early 1970s. From the very beginning, the JVP’s ideology also contained an element of mild nationalism, which at the time was described as ‘patriotism.’ Many Left movements in colonial and post-colonial societies contained this element of mild nationalism, based on the argument that nationalist movements could play a progressive role in struggles against imperialism and colonial capitalism.

While the Old Left deserves to be critiqued for its capitulation to the Sinhala nationalism of the SLFP, we must not ignore the Left’s seminal contribution to advancing a powerful discourse on ethnic minority rights since the 1940s and again after the late 1970s. In the past, the Left was an influential political and ideological force in the North, shaping several generations of Tamil political activists and intellectuals who were committed to the ideal of socialist equality beyond narrow ethnic identity politics.

My answer to your question is that, under the present leadership, the JVP and the NPP have made a break from their Sinhala nationalist past. You may have observed that this shift began to become evident after Wimal Weerawansa—who was the JVP’s Sinhala nationalist voice at the time—left the party and joined Mahinda Rajapaksa’s camp. That split was obviously the result of a major internal debate between two tendencies regarding the JVP’s ideology and political path.

You might also recall some of the excellent speeches Anura Kumara Dissanayake made in Parliament defending the rights of Tamil people living in Colombo, when Gotabaya Rajapaksa, as Defence Secretary, initiated a campaign of forcible relocation targeting Tamils who were living in or visiting the city. That period marked a moment when the JVP, perhaps under new leadership, began to shed its Sinhala nationalist politics and move toward embracing the politics of pluralism.

It was also during this period that JVP and TNA parliamentarians began to initiate dialogue and even develop personal friendships. In my view, the JVP is now a changed political entity—changed in terms of its leadership, ideology, political orientation, and overall political project.

My suspicion is that Tamil nationalist political actors among the elite, along with sections of the Tamil diaspora, will continue to label the NPP as merely a continuation of its old Sinhala nationalism under a new disguise. However, non-elite and ordinary Tamils appear to have begun to see the NPP differently—as a progressive Sinhala political force that brings together the politics of ethnicity and social class.

The time has come for all of us to recognize that ethnic and class politics—or identity politics and social justice politics—can no longer be approached as two separate paths to political emancipation. In my view, this is also the message the NPP seeks to convey to the Tamil and Muslim communities, particularly in the North and East.

You have argued that class politics in Sri Lanka cannot be separated from ethnic identity. Yet the NPP’s economic platform emphasizes anti-corruption and efficiency rather than addressing how economic marginalization overlaps with ethnic geography. Does this suggest that left politics in Sri Lanka must subordinate class analysis to ethnic accommodation?

 

There was a time when the Left politics subordinated ethnic politics to class politics, particularly after the Federal Party was formed to advance its federalist demand. It was a Tamil Marxist theoretician of the LSSP, V. Karalasingham, who wrote the famous pamphlet The Way Out for the Tamil Speaking People of Sri Lanka in 1962. In that essay, comrade Karalisingham argued that the federalist demand came from the ‘Tamil bourgeoisie’. He characterised federalism as a reactionary demand that would divide the Sinhalese and Tamil working masses and drive them away from class politics which alone could bring true emancipation. On that basis, he also defended the unitary state model.

However, after 1972, there was a shift in the position of some radical sections of the Left to argue that the Left should support the evolving struggle of the Tamil people for resolving the national question by accommodating their demand for self-determination. The Nava Sama Samaja Party, LSSP( R), Revolutionary Communist League and a number of other Trotskyite groups, openly defended the right of the Tamil-speaking people for self-determination. This was the key demand of the TULF after it was formed. I also began to share this position around 1975-76 when I was still in jail as a JVP political prisoner.

Meanwhile, I had the opportunity to have brief political conversations when I was in jail with some young Tamil political activists about their politics. I think Kasi Anandan from Batticaloa was one among them. That was also the time when I began to develop the idea that class and ethnicity are co-present and intertwined in Sri Lanka’s anti-systemic and progressive politics for change. Later on, after 1977, my conversations with Kethesh Loganathan and some of the founders of the EPRLF and EROS enabled me to see how the Left had a role to play in bringing class politics to Tamil nationalist politics.

After I was released from jail, I openly supported the TULF and the radical Tamil demand for the right of Self – determination. I wrote newspaper articles supporting the demand for self-determination rights of the ethnic minorities. I was also influenced by Lenin’s position on this issue. Mr. Amirthalingam even quoted me when he gave evidence before the Sansoni Commission to make the point that even the Sinhalese intellectuals support the just demands for national rights by the Tamil political parties. ‘Ethnic politics has no ethnic solutions; it can only highlight ethnic grievances. It needs democratic and social justice solutions.’ This is the formula I apply to the present stage of Sri Lanka’s debate on the ethnic problem as well.

Amidst these developments, and reflecting on the rise of the LTTE-brand of ethno-nationalist politics and its parallels in other societies, I began to re-think and revise my position on nationalist politics as a whole.

I share the revised Left position, which can be stated as follows: class politics without ethnic accommodation runs the risk of becoming majoritarian in multi-ethnic, plural societies. Similarly, ethnic accommodation without class analysis abandons the oppressed masses to the mercy of capitalist and professional elites who have a narrow and patronising world view on issues of justice, rights and equality.

The NPP has embraced IMF restructuring despite its historical anti-imperialist rhetoric. Is this pragmatic adaptation to global capitalism, or does it reveal that the JVP’s socialism was always more nationalist than Marxist?

I have a very different reading of the issue you raise. The NPP did not come to power through a socialist or nationalist revolution promising a complete, radical and immediate break from the past. Nor is it a radical socialist party. Rather, it is a progressive reformist party that has assumed power through peaceful parliamentary means.

The NPP leadership appears to have chosen a path that avoids open and hostile confrontation with domestic capitalist classes, global capitalism, or its institutional structures. The government’s economic and foreign policy directions seem to be shaped by pragmatism, rather than by ideological adventurism in the name of radicalism.

My assessment is that the NPP leadership envisions remaining in power beyond a single term, operating within a democratic framework while gradually implementing its transformative agenda. This approach appears to emphasize patience, caution, and strategic prudence, particularly in managing resistance and emerging threats from the ancien régime.

You describe Sri Lanka as having undergone “violent state-making,” producing a powerful military-security apparatus. The NPP inherits a highly militarized state. Can a civilian government realistically subordinate the military and intelligence services, or have these institutions become autonomous political actors?

Transforming a national-security-oriented and ethnocratic state into a democratic state in the aftermath of civil war is an extraordinarily difficult, complex, and high-risk undertaking. It is far easier to articulate such a transformation in theory than to achieve it in practice.

With regard to your second point, the management of civil–military relations in post-war Sri Lanka is considerably less complicated than it was during the years of armed conflict. Sri Lanka’s traditional political establishment, which has since lost power, nevertheless maintained a system in which the military remained firmly under civilian political control. The National People’s Power (NPP) government must preserve this tradition of civilian oversight while gradually demilitarizing the state through the strengthening of democratic institutions and processes. Ultimately, a resilient democratic system remains the most effective safeguard for the protection of democracy itself.

Regarding your final question, the Sri Lankan military has not historically emerged as an autonomous center of political power, even during the war years. However, the conflict did significantly enhance the military’s bargaining power in its dealings with successive governments. The political rift between the Rajapaksa leadership and former Army Commander Sarath Fonseka can be interpreted as a moment that revealed tensions associated with a possible shift toward greater military influence in the political sphere.

It is therefore fair to say that the military has evolved into an important stakeholder in Sri Lanka’s national security decision-making structure, possessing its own ideological perspectives and strategic doctrines regarding national security. Unfortunately, there has been little meaningful public dialogue between the military and civilian experts in security studies on these critical issues. In my view, the military’s national security doctrine should be subject to open scrutiny, examination, and critique by civilian security specialists, the media, and political actors. Such engagement is essential for strengthening democratic accountability and informed policy-making in the sphere of national security.

 

The military continues to control land, businesses, and infrastructure in the North and East, yet the NPP government has made no visible moves to reverse this. Does this reflect a fear of military backlash, or an acceptance of militarization as a permanent feature of governance in Tamil areas?

My knowledge of the current ground situation in Jaffna on this specific issue is somewhat limited. However, it is clear that demilitarization in Jaffna remains an enormously challenging task for any Sri Lankan government—unless the military itself becomes a coalition partner within the governing political framework.

During Mahinda Rajapaksa’s presidency, for example, there existed something close to a civil–military partnership even after the war had ended. Yet that partnership effectively reinforced a process of continued militarization rather than reversing it.

In my view, meaningful demilitarization in Jaffna—and more broadly within the Sri Lankan state—will require the emergence of a new generation of military leadership as well as new generations of both Sinhala and Tamil political leadership. For now, it appears that society will have to wait patiently for such changes to take shape.

Paradoxically, it is also possible that a radical socialist transformation could produce even greater militarization in places like Jaffna. What may be required instead is a left-liberal government in Colombo working alongside a left-liberal Tamil political leadership in Jaffna.

I realize that this assessment may disappoint many of my Tamil nationalist-liberal friends, but the political realities surrounding demilitarization are far more complex than they are often presented.

 

You have written that Sinhala society has not fully confronted the violence committed in its name during the war. Why has this reckoning not taken place? What social or institutional barriers prevent moral and historical accountability?

To my knowledge, the only society that has confronted large-scale violence from its past in a systematic and meaningful way is South Africa. That experience was made possible by a unique historical moment. South Africa had the African National Congress led by a remarkable humanist, Nelson Mandela, and the Methodist Church guided by another extraordinary moral figure, Bishop Desmond Tutu.

Together, they created the moral and political conditions that made the Truth and Reconciliation process possible. But such moments are exceedingly rare in human history. They depend on a convergence of leadership, institutions, and social readiness that does not occur often.

In that sense, South Africa remains an exception rather than a rule. It was, in many ways, a historical wonder. And wonders, as we know, do not repeat themselves very often.

Large numbers of people disappeared during both the 1987–89 JVP insurrection (mostly Sinhala youth) and the northern war (mostly Tamils). Yet the NPP appears far more vocal about JVP-era victims than about Tamil disappearances. Does this reflect an unequal moral recognition of suffering across ethnic lines?

President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, Minister Bimal Rathnayake, and several other leaders of the National People’s Power have, on a number of occasions, expressed solidarity with Tamil victims of the civil war and with their families. I recall hearing President Dissanayake, in a speech delivered in the North, speak passionately about how the NPP identifies both with militant Tamil youth and with the victims of the war as fellow victims of state violence.

However, it appears that such expressions of solidarity may not have been made frequently enough to leave a lasting impression in the collective memory of Tamil victims of state violence. Another possibility is that these messages and events have not been communicated effectively to the Tamil public.

What continues to intrigue me is the apparent weakness of the NPP government in political communication with minority communities. At times, the leadership also seems to underestimate the crucial importance of ideological engagement while in power. Even a counter-systemic political movement that has come to govern cannot afford to neglect the ideological arena. The struggle over ideas and narratives remains central, even — and perhaps especially — when a movement transitions from opposition to government.

 

How can a Tamil with a moral conscience come to terms with the fact that the JVP—which actively supported the war that led to the deaths of thousands of Tamils—has now emerged as a major political force in Tamil-majority areas?

I think this is, to some extent, an elite-driven question. It implicitly assumes that ordinary Tamil citizens who have voted for the NPP lack a moral conscience. In reality, the moral economy of ordinary citizens often contains a strong element of pragmatism and practical wisdom, enabling them to make political judgments shaped by their lived experience and by what one might call the political unconscious of their own class.

In that sense, your question reminds me of Their Morals and Ours by Leon Trotsky, which reflected on how moral reasoning operates differently in political struggles.

At the same time, there is another dimension to the issue you raise—one that concerns political conscience. It is a difficult and uncomfortable problem that many political actors in Sri Lanka, both in the North and the South and across elite and non-elite groups, will have to confront when they face their own histories.

Sri Lanka is a society in which both state and non-state actors have, at different times, competed with one another in demonstrating their capacity for brutality, often directed even against civilian populations. Yet there has been very little tradition of open acknowledgement or moral reckoning. I sometimes feel that societies shaped by non-Christian cultural traditions, particularly in South Asia, are less accustomed to the practice of public confession or admission of guilt—except, perhaps, under the coercive conditions of police interrogation.

 

You have met families of the disappeared from both communities. What differences have you observed in how Sinhala and Tamil families articulate justice, and does the state respond differently based on ethnicity?

Many families of the disappeared, both in the North and in the South, continue to wait for redress and compensation from the state. Disappointment and despair are experiences they share, regardless of their ethnic background. Many of them had expected the NPP government to expedite this process as part of a broader effort toward reconciliation and peace-building.

Another common experience among these families—both in the North and the South—has been the political exploitation of their grievances. Their suffering has often been invoked in political discourse without meaningful progress toward justice.

Personally, I feel deeply saddened whenever I see reports and images of these families still standing in protests, holding photographs of their missing loved ones and demanding answers. The fact that such demonstrations continue, even under the present NPP government, is a painful reminder that their quest for justice remains unresolved.

 

The NPP proposes a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) while rejecting international mechanisms. Given the failure of past domestic accountability bodies, is this genuine commitment or performative politics to deflect external pressure? What failures within Tamil politics enabled the NPP to win three parliamentary seats in Jaffna, the traditional heartland of Tamil nationalist politics?

 

Any government will need a great deal of political will, courage, and moral strength to establish a TRC in Sri Lanka in line with international standards and practices. This is an issue that will continue to test the leadership of the NPP.

I am not very optimistic that these promises will now be fulfilled. It may already be too late for the NPP government to move beyond what it has done so far. Any government that fails to initiate the TRC process within its first year in office may find it extremely difficult to do so later. Such a process usually needs to begin when there is a strong sense of collective political optimism in the country, soon after a major political change supported by the public.

Launching a TRC process in a country that has endured a protracted civil war—with immense human cost, violence, and deeply bitter political memories and enmities—is no less a challenge than initiating a moral revolution among the people.

In Sri Lanka, the continuing paradox surrounding the TRC option is that both its necessity and its difficulty are closely intertwined. I can only wish the government good luck if it is genuinely committed to pursuing a meaningful TRC process in Sri Lanka.

 

You have described Tamil politics as “victimhood without strategic vision.” What would a more mature Tamil political ideology look like—beyond reactive nationalism toward constructive state-building?

I may have made that comment some time ago, in the context of the 2005 presidential election, when Tamil voters were persuaded by both the LTTE and sections of the moderate Tamil leadership to boycott the poll. That boycott enabled Mahinda Rajapaksa to win the presidency. The situation has since changed. Even in the post-civil war and post-secession context, Tamil political elites appear to be struggling to make sense of the futility of the old political path, which has now clearly reached a dead end.

If Tamil politics is to emerge from its present impasse, it is crucial that the more advanced sections of liberal Tamil political leadership recognize that Sri Lankan politics—including politics within Tamil society—has entered a new historical phase. In this new context, outdated forms of identity politics are unlikely to suit the post-Aragalaya realities.

I hope what I say will not be interpreted as the perspective of a Sinhala majoritarian academic. I approach the national question from a left-liberal standpoint. From that perspective, I can recognize both the strengths and the democratic limits of nationalist politics. While I politically defend ethnic “minority” politics, I remain aware of the critical limitations of such movements when they ignore substantive democracy, social justice, and social equality—values that go beyond the narrow procedural democracy of liberal constitutionalism.

At times, I remind myself that Tamil nationalist politics, as well as Sri Lanka’s constitutional thinking more broadly, has remained confined for too long within the narrow framework of liberal procedural democracy. The time has come for those of us with a left intellectual background to highlight the limitations of older forms of ethnic nationalism—whether Sinhala or Tamil, often articulated by brilliant lawyers and academics.

I hope that comrade Ayathurai Santhan’s new novel, Twice Upon a Time, may stimulate a healthy debate in the North on these questions.

From my limited understanding of the evolving political dynamics in the Northern Province, traditional elite politics—long dominated by bourgeois political parties and leaderships—appears to be gradually declining. A similar trend can also be observed within Muslim politics. In other words, the sociology of representative politics in both Tamil and Muslim societies is undergoing rapid change.

It is this social and political transformation in the way democracy operates among people in Jaffna that has enabled the NPP to emerge as a new force within Tamil and Muslim politics across the Northern, Eastern, Central, and Western provinces.

At present, progressive nationalists in the North have a significant opportunity and political space to initiate a movement that can free minority politics from conservative elite control. Such a project could inaugurate a new form of nationalist-class politics that combines national emancipation with social emancipation. Ultimately, that would amount to building a new political bridge linking the North-East, the Centre, and the South.

Given that Sinhala nationalist discourse treats even the 13th Amendment as excessive, is meaningful federalism politically impossible in Sri Lanka, or could the NPP realistically reshape Sinhala opinion?

The term ‘federalism’ comes from what I would call our outdated political vocabulary. My view is that the historical role of the concept of federalism, and the political imaginations it once inspired, has effectively come to an end. I say this both as a political theorist and as someone who has, in a way, been a small actor in Sri Lankan politics.

Federalist expectations and aspirations brought the Tamil community together. They gave the community a deep sense of political solidarity and even a bond that enabled it to imagine nationhood and self-determination. These are positive and undeniable contributions made by that concept.

However, it has also had negative consequences. It has emerged as a wall of separation between the Sinhala and Tamil communities within the same nation-state.

My view is that in Sri Lanka we now need a new political vocabulary—one that can bring together Sinhala, North-East Tamil, Malayaha Tamil, and Muslim communities as a multiplicity of regional, local, and dispersed minorities under a banner of deep devolution, or deep power-sharing. It should be a banner inscribed with the slogan: “Unity in Diversity and Diversity in Unity.”

In fact, political theory has advanced considerably on many of these issues, but the thinking of our ethnic entrepreneurs has not.

You’ve been attacked by Sinhala nationalists as pro-Tamil and by some Tamil activists as pro-state. How do you maintain intellectual integrity in such a polarized landscape?

Being attacked by my political or ideological adversaries, or by those who simply disagree with me, does not bother me at all. I have learned not to be moved by such attacks. In that sense, over the years I have cultivated a Buddhist and liberal ethic of tolerance and forbearance.

Sri Lankan academia—both Sinhala and Tamil—largely failed to critically challenge ethnic nationalism during the war years. And in the post-war period, has scholarship done any better in questioning dominant nationalist narratives and producing genuinely critical, independent analysis?

The assumption underlying this question is not correct. There is a substantial body of literature produced by progressive Tamil and Sinhalese scholars. Institutions such as the Social Scientists’ Association, the International Centre for Ethnic Studies, and the Centre for Policy Alternatives have played a key non-state role in Colombo through research, policy advocacy, publications, and public education.

In all three languages, a new strand of political and social thought has emerged—remarkably rich in both quality and depth—on issues such as peacebuilding, democracy, democratization, constitutionalism, multiculturalism, pluralism, power-sharing, and nation-building.

 

This interview will be read mainly by Tamils in Jaffna and the diaspora who have lived through state violence and broken promises. What would you say to them about why they should place hope—if at all—in yet another Colombo government promising change?

In my approach to politics, no community can be considered homogeneous, whether Sinhala or Tamil, in terms of class, social status, gender, or political identity.

My view is that the NPP’s appeal is particularly attractive to the non-elite social classes within Jaffna Tamil society, as well as to progressive sections among Tamil citizens who hold Left or Left-liberal political leanings.

For the Tamil political elite, who largely come from upper-class and upper-caste social backgrounds, my message is that the time has come for them to broaden their ethnic-identity politics by opening the doors to the oppressed Tamil masses and to women. They should also cease to think of non-elite Tamil citizens merely as voters to be mobilized during elections.

The social democratization of Tamil nationalist politics has become a historical necessity.

This transformation has already taken place in Sinhala society, and the NPP represents the concretization of that shift toward what may be called “civic nationalism.”

The time has come in Sri Lanka to move toward a civic-nationalist vision for nation-building. Civic nationalist imaginations can creatively combine three types of democratic solutions to Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict—namely, liberal, republican, and communitarian approaches.

Such a future would have the capacity and flexibility to facilitate coexistence between Sinhala, Tamil, and Muslim ethnic nationalisms within a broader framework of a civic-nationalist Sri Lankan nation-state.

After all, Sri Lanka is supposed to be a “Democratic Socialist Republic,” isn’t it? Strangely, the solutions are already enshrined in the very name of our modern nation-state, long unnoticed by all of us.



 

 

Poetry by Ahilan “A Smile Drying on a Vine”

A Smile Drying on a Vine

Translated from Tamil into English by Geetha Sukumaran.

Featuring the original poems in Tamil alongside translations by Geetha Sukumaran, A Smile Drying on a Vine illuminates how history, mythology, visuality and the intimate experience of war shape language to give voice to the impact of conflict and trauma. Deeply visceral yet reflective, Ahilan’s masterful language moves from the clinical to the performative, seeking remembrance as resistance, amid the din of a war that has not ceased in its erasures (redriverpress.in)


The book was launched at Jaffna University in October 2025. Below is a link to the speech delivered by Professor M Thiruvarangan, Head of the Department of Linguistics and English at the occasion:

 

L’ouvrage ” Les minorités tamoules à Colombo, Kuala Lumpur et Singapour : identités, intégrations socio-spatiales et transnationalités” de Delon Madavan est disponible dans la collection Géographie & Cultures chez L’Harmattan

“Essor et crise de la presse tamoule eelamiste à Paris” par Anthony Goreau-Ponceaud et Delon Madavan

Nous avons le plaisir de vous annoncer la parution du livre, “Paris capitale polyphonique : Histoire de la presse réfugiée, exilée, immigrée”, Paris, Editions Atlande, 2025.

Anthony Goreau-Ponceaud et Delon Madavan ont rédigé un chapitre intitulé “Essor et crise de la presse tamoule eelamiste à Paris”, en s’appuyant sur l’exemple de l’hebdomadaire Eelamurusu (Les tambours de l’Eelam)

A propos de ce livre, Nicolas Pitsos, qui a coordonné cette publication collective, dit à juste titre : “Un antidote aux discours et réflexes xénophobes, un appel à une histoire citoyenne, inclusive et plurielle de la société française, un hommage aux héritages multiples de celles et ceux qui venant d’ailleurs, ont fait la richesse de la Ville Lumière et de sa presse ! “

 

New publication

Beyond the Binary: The Experiences of Genderqueer People in Colombo

https://www.ices.lk/publications-1/beyond-the-binary%3A-the-experiences-of-genderqueer-people-in-colombo

This paper explores the vibrant and complex landscape of genderqueer
identities in Sri Lanka, shedding light on the experiences, artistic expressions,
and cultural challenges faced by non-binary people navigating both local and
global frameworks. Through the lens of artists, activists, and community
members, the study interrogates how gender fluidity is both marginalized
and reimagined within a predominantly cisnormative Sri Lankan society.
Central to the discussion is the tension between local cultural traditions and
the increasingly visible discourse around queer identities, particularly in the
wake of contemporary legal and social changes.
Drawing primarily on interviews with local genderqueer people in
Colombo, the paper examines how many defy binary gender norms and
construct alternative personal spaces where non-binary people can belong.
Furthermore, this work illuminates the ongoing struggles within the Sri
Lankan LGBTQ+ community to recognize and embrace gender fluidity, with
younger activists advocating for more inclusive approaches to identity and
visibility. It proposes a more localized and inclusive approach to gender,
urging a shift in public awareness and attitudes. Challenging both the state’s
erasure of gender diversity and the limitations of identity politics, this
research calls for a deeper understanding of how genderqueer lives have
always existed but remain hidden in the island’s margins.

Sri Lanka: from debt default to transformative growth

https://odi.org/en/publications/sri-lanka-from-debt-default-to-transformative-growth-second-edition

An expanded essay series charting Sri Lanka’s path beyond stabilisation towards lasting economic prosperity.

In 2022, Sri Lanka faced its worst economic crisis since independence, culminating in a sovereign debt default.

Building upon the insights of the acclaimed first edition, this second edition revisits Sri Lanka’s remarkable economic journey, now extending to early 2025. Following the unprecedented sovereign debt default of 2022, Sri Lanka’s stabilisation has surpassed expectations, yet the challenge remains: to transcend mere recovery and forge a path towards sustained, transformative growth. Edited by Ganeshan Wignaraja and Dirk Willem te Velde, this expanded collection offers critical analysis and actionable policy recommendations.

Featuring insights from 24 prominent Sri Lankan and international experts, this edition includes an updated introduction and a new, pivotal essay advocating for a robust growth plan to prevent future crises. The 15 essays collectively offer 27 refined and expanded policy proposals designed to propel Sri Lanka towards long-term economic resilience and prosperity.

Download the full collection of essays below to delve deeper into these critical topics and discover actionable strategies to help Sri Lanka achieve its economic potential.

 

BNF – France-South Asia, shared heritage online

https://heritage.bnf.fr/france-southasia/en/homepage

Resources on France and South Asia’s shared heritage.

Power structures and spaces / Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka

Ceylon was mostly known for its strategic trading position in the Indian Ocean. European powers, the Portuguese (1505-1658), the Dutch (1658-1796) and the British (1815-1948) colonized the island. The attempts by the French to establish a trading post in Ceylon began when French naval expeditions prospered during the reign of King Louis XIV.

The French crown in Ceylon

The French East Indies Company, created in 1664, soon had the monopoly of French commerce and navigation in the Indian Ocean. In 1670 the French Minister of Finance Jean Baptiste Colbert summoned a naval force under the official name of “Squadron of Persia”. This was the first military squadron sent to the Indian Ocean, entrusted to Admiral Jacob Blanquet de la Haye. A few years earlier, the French East Indies Company had recruited François Caron, who had previously served the Dutch East India Company for 30 years. Caron was French by birth and Dutch by adoption. As Commander of the Dutch East Indies (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie -VOC) forces he succeeded in capturing Negambo (on the west coast of Ceylon) in 1644 from the Portuguese. When he offered his services to the French, he declared that he knew of a suitable location for them to establish their maritime base, and suggested Trincomalee, on the east coast of Ceylon. Caron became the Director General of the French East Indies Company. 

It was thus that the squadron reached the bay of Trincomalee in March 1672. The king of Kandy, in the central highlands of Ceylon, King Rajasinghe II was engaged in getting rid of the Portuguese. He had signed the Kandyan Treaty of 1638 with the Dutch, which secured the terms under which they would cooperate in defending the Kingdom from the Portuguese. Caron knew that King Rajasinghe was at war with the Dutch and made use of this situation to gain favor with the King. He negotiated with the King, offering French help to oust the Dutch, while requesting to occupy the bay of Trincomalee in return.

French at the court of King Rajasinghe II

The French saw Trincomalee as an important target in their greater aim of controlling trade in the Indian Ocean. Also known as Koddiyar Bay, it had received high praise for its beauty and location by countless travelers and explorers of all origins. The French too were prolific in their descriptions of the bay, as the journal entries of various officials show. Logbooks from the French National Archives provide insightful accounts of their encounters in Ceylon. The French were entranced by the customs and behavior of the natives in the Kandyan court. One of them is noteworthy. Sieur de La Nérolle arrived in 1672 and left behind a living legacy. He was part of an expedition which departed from La Rochelle in 1670 and arrived at Trincomalee Bay in 1672. The expedition failed to secure control of the Bay, although the French connection with Ceylon was not entirely severed. The members of de la Haye’s delegation sent to the Kandyan King’s court remained in Ceylon and the story of Lieutenant de La Nérolle, whose descendants today belong to the 12th generation, testifies to lasting connections surpassing trade or colonial ties. It emphasizes the impact the French strategies had on Sri Lanka’s history and identity. 

King Rajasinghe II officially handed over Trincomalee Bay to the French. On the 17th of June 1672 the French flag was hoisted on the Sun Island. However, the French occupation of the bay did not last long. De la Haye’s attempt to take over Trincomalee was foiled by the Dutch.

Second French naval expedition to Ceylon

A century after this expedition, many French governors and generals serving in India brought up the importance of Trincomalee again. General de Bussy and Admiral de Suffren pointed out that it was to be regretted that the French possessed no harbor equal to Trincomalee. In 1781, a French squadron was sent to the Coromandel Coast under the command of the experienced naval officer Suffren. In August 1782, his fleet anchored in front of Trincomalee in Ceylon. The French had joined up with Hyder Ali, the leader of Mysore, to counter the British. In fact, out of the five battles fought between Suffren’s fleet and the English fleet led by Admiral Edward Hughes in the Indian Ocean, the Battle of Trincomalee of August 1782 is the most well-known.

The second French expedition was carried out not through negotiations, but through battle. It also had a different focus. It aimed to destroy the English squadron, and to seize the English establishments in India. Unlike their first expedition, the French won the second battle for Trincomalee. However, their control of Ceylon was short-lived. As a result of the 1783 Peace Treaty in Europe, they had to restore Trincomalee back to the Dutch. The political forces in Europe, once again grasped the control of Ceylon from their hands. Then in 1795 it was taken over by the British.

Published in February 2025

 

Words to Kill a Man, and Free a Man

https://polity.lk/words-to-kill-a-man-and-free-a-man-kanya-d-almeida

 

Words to Kill a Man, and Free a Man

Kanya D’Almeida

 

In the early months of 2012, I inherited two troves of literature. I had been hunting for one of them for years; the other arrived unsolicited.

The first was an archive of the journalistic work of my uncle, Richard de Zoysa, during his career—cut short by his murder in 1990—as a reporter for the Rome-based Inter Press Service (IPS) news agency. 

The second was the unbound, unedited manuscript of an American political prisoner, a former Black Panther named Russell ‘Maroon’ Shoatz who had been incarcerated in the state of Pennsylvania for nearly four decades.

I was a news reporter myself at the time, employed by the same agency that Richard had been working for when he was killed. I had recently been transplanted from New York City to a desk at IPS’ Washington office, where my bureau chief, an exceptionally sharp, veteran journalist—whose small room on the 14th floor of the National Press Club in DC was primarily occupied by heavy metal filing cabinets jammed with news cuttings and clippings from decades past— kindly allowed me to conscript him into my search for Richard’s dossier.

All my life, Richard had twirled above me like a mobile over a baby’s crib: shifting, wonderful, shadow-casting, and always out of reach. He and my mother, first cousins, had been raised as siblings in the same home. She had witnessed, perhaps more intimately than anyone else, his evolution from a precocious child (whose mind may have bordered on genius) to a kind of cultural titan in Colombo, his presence dominating the stage, his voice crackling through radio broadcasts, his face on television screens reading the evening news—and finally, his byline on the international wire, in dispatches from Sri Lanka.

I had read his poetry and paged through dozens of photo albums documenting his acting career (which began with a very professional adaptation and home production of Hamlet’s soliloquy To Be or Not to Be when he was nine years old) and I had heard stories about stories about stories—but never actually read his journalistic work.

All these articles, I would ask my parents, his colleagues, the Internet—that he was threatened for, followed for, murdered for—where are they?

            Gone? Lost? Scrubbed out?

It was with my excellent bureau chief, both of us huddled over his archaic desktop computer one afternoon, that we managed to extract, from the depths of JSTOR, one of Richard’s pieces entitled ‘Pride Stalks Beneath a Full Moon’. The dateline read “COLOMBO, May 22, 1989”. It was locked behind security passwords and paywalls. While my boss made stern phone calls to the relevant, automated authorities of that impenetrable digital library, I hurled abuse at the screen that kept telling me I lacked the required credentials to access my uncle’s writings.

What we ultimately ended up with—a small cache of articles constructed in the signature IPS style of an inverted pyramid with a buried lede and delivered in Richard’s sparse yet polished prose—felt to me like finding the missing shard in a fragmented family heirloom.

*

A few weeks later (or was it a few weeks earlier?), I received a FedEx envelope containing a 200-page document titled, The Making of a Political Prisoner by Russell Maroon Shoatz. An accompanying note from a recent acquaintance said only that he wished me to review the draft of this autobiography with a view to using it as the basis for a screenplay. The man whose life story was contained in that bulky envelope, my friend explained, was nothing short of jaw-dropping—he’d escaped prison twice in the 1970s, spent over 22 years in solitary confinement, and was a prolific revolutionary theoretician and scholar, revered by The Movement and despised by the authorities who had sworn to preside over his slow death in the Hole. The Hole. Shorthand among prisoners and guards for solitary confinement.

The name ‘Maroon’ was an honorific, a respectful reference to the many thousands of slaves who, on almost every continent, escaped the plantations, formed liberated communities, and lived as free people. His supporters and some of his family believed that a powerful biopic would help to ignite an international campaign for his freedom bid. After all, everyone loves a good story. It would require a significant commitment on my part: to interview Maroon himself, which was complicated by his status as a maximum-security prisoner; and to meet and speak with his tribe—children, comrades, counsel, co-defendants.

I was fresh and green—25 years old, with a ready pen, steeped in American cultural mythology (particularly such vague notions as freedom of speech, or the power of the people, organised and united)—and hungry for meaningful work as a writer.

I was also afraid. The twin revelations of Richard’s past and Maroon’s imagined future—with myself strung between—felt somehow double-edged: the sweet promise that words might be powerful enough to free a man were dogged by the horror that words were dangerous enough to kill a man. 

Both men were stunning writers, in very different ways. Maroon’s chapters read like spoken word, a beautiful language of the streets fine-tuned in the depths of isolation. He grew up in a gang in West Philadelphia, became a community organiser, joined the Panther Party, and stood trial for murder before spending most of his adult life in prison. But his story had no ending, whereas Richard’s seemed to begin at the end—with his own death—and then plough its way painfully backward in time through a dismal chapter of Sri Lanka’s history.

*

All of Richard’s articles I unearthed were published roughly in the first half of 1989 and ceased abruptly on 10 August with the publication of a piece entitled, ‘SRI LANKA: Nearing a Human Rights Apocalypse’. Still, after thirteen years and dozens of reads, the prophetic flavour of that pithy 899-word bulletin sends chills down my spine. The opening paragraphs need little explanation:

Residents of the seaside suburb of Mount Lavinia, three miles from the Sri Lankan capital of Colombo, were awakened at around 3:00 AM on Aug. 6 by gunshots.

As the night curfew in force throughout Sri Lanka ended one hour later, the bolder ones ventured out of doors. They found the bodies of six youths – five dead, one dying of gunshot injuries – their hands tied behind their backs, lying on the beach.

The injured boy told them he was from Ganemulla, a small town 25 miles from the capital. Mount Lavinia residents say he accused the Special Task Force (STF) – police commandos – of dragging him from his house, bringing him to Colombo and shooting him.

Killings like this happen daily in southern Sri Lanka, where the security forces are hunting down left-wing rebels from the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) in a major government drive to wipe out what it calls “subversion”.

This, in a nutshell, was Richard’s beat: piecing together, victim by victim, corpse by corpse, the story of the violent insurgency and still-more-violent counter-insurgency that throttled Sri Lanka in the late 80s. And it wasn’t the first time—the piece took its title from remarks delivered in Parliament on 9 August 1989 by the then-opposition leader Sirimavo Bandaranaike, demanding the creation of a parliamentary committee to look into arrests and indiscriminate killings, which had topped 1,000 just that month:

Bandaranaike, who crushed a JVP-led student insurrection when she was prime minister in 1971, yesterday chose to make a distinction between the JVP and the youth who support it in her apocalyptic statement in Parliament.

“These are our future generations. Why have they resorted to violence? Because they have no education — schools and universities are closed, they have no hope of employment, they see injustice and corruption all around them, she declared.

“If you have no answer except to meet indiscriminate killings with equally brutal reprisals . . . You will build up a monster no-one will be able to control”, Bandaranaike warned.

The article goes on to detail the particular horrors of that time, namely the lawlessness that rendered the entire population either victim or suspect, and the rest terrorised into silence:

Masked men travelling in vehicles without license plates were abducting young men from their homes. Human rights activists say most of the “secret” killings are carried out by plainclothes squads from the regular forces. The government closed down schools in Sinhalese areas in June and followed up by sending the military onto southern campuses July 11.

Members of the campus group “Students for Human Rights” say the 250 students taken into custody were the lucky ones.

“Most of those arrested on campus are still alive, although in detention”, says “Kumar”, a spokesperson for the group. “It is when the students go back to their homes that they are in the greatest danger. The local police or military come for them with a license to kill.”

The “tire treatment” is a common form of punishment meted out to suspected rebels. Villagers and townspeople alike have grown used to the sight of bodies smouldering on public roadways, charred flesh indistinguishable from burning rubber.

Other suspects were blindfolded, tied to trees or lampposts, and shot – often after being tortured.

Under Sri Lanka’s harsh emergency regulations and anti-subversion laws, police or military officers can dispose of dead bodies without autopsies and detain anyone for up to 18 months without producing them in court.

“We have filed hundreds of habeas corpus applications (calling on police to produce arrested people before magistrates) but under the law, the government need not do anything about these”, explained human rights lawyer Prins Gunesekera.

Gunesekera says he himself is in danger. He and another lawyer, Kanchana Abeypala, have been placed on an “endangered” list by the human rights organisation Amnesty International after they were warned to stop campaigning against rights abuses.

A third lawyer from the human rights lobby, Charitha Lankapura, was murdered – allegedly by the STF – in early July after returning home from a student demonstration.

Surely, no clearer prologue to his own death could have been written: abducted from his home without charge or warrant, shot, and his body dumped in the sea. No investigation, no explanations. For decades I have listened to my elders talk in circles of speculation as to the causes and culprits behind Richard’s murder—Why? On whose orders? For what?—without ever arriving at an undivided answer.

*

It is tempting to surmise that Richard’s clarity of analysis and reporting were reason enough for the government to remove him. In a dispatch from 22 May 1989, Richard notes:

Pride stalks Sri Lanka today, in a variety of guises. There is the racial pride of the Sinhalese, who make up 70 percent of the island’s 17 million people (mostly Buddhist), as well as the pride of the 1.4 million-strong Tamil minority.

There is also the pride of two fierce militant groups, one Sinhalese and one Tamil; the pride of two armies, one Sri Lankan and one Indian; and the political pride of their governments in Colombo and New Delhi.

He goes on to detail the political manoeuvres required to juggle multiple conflicts, with the government funnelling its armed forces into the “economically underprivileged southern belt” to root out the JVP while simultaneously directing a stream of soldiers to the Northern Province to wage war against the LTTE. All this, Richard notes, while the Indian Peacekeeping Force (IPKF), by order of Rajiv Gandhi, were half-cajoling, half-strong-arming the Tigers to a negotiating table, upon which lay the highly divisive devolution plan outlined in the 1987 Indo-Lanka accords.

“The JVP and the shadowy organisation suspected of being its armed wing (known as the Patriotic People’s Movement or DJV) [are] implacably opposed to Tamil separatism or anything remotely approaching it”, he wrote, adding that on the flip side of the coin, the LTTE remained hell-bent on the creation of a wholly separate Tamil homeland, despite a strong political tide amongst more moderate Tamil forces that would have accepted an agreement for regional autonomy. Richard concluded:

A triangle of power [now governs the country]. If [President Ranasinghe] Premadasa, a shrewd self-taught professional politician, wants his presidency to get off the ground, he will have to deal swiftly with two men who, like him, have simple origins – Tamil Tiger guerilla leader Velupillai Prabhakaran and JVP supremo Rohana Wijeweera.

The actions of this trio will determine Sri Lanka’s immediate future – as well as the fate, in life or death terms, of the country’s 16.4 million people.

It was the kind of journalism I aspired to: clean, clear, concise, and contextual, with a beating heart that seemed able to keep time with the louder pulse of the nation. Nothing seditious or revolutionary. No call to arms. Nothing but a writer’s quiet plea for sanity or humanity to prevail amidst a massacre. It was not, to my mind, the kind of blazing scroll that an artist might—even for the faintest moment—think they’d die for.

The unasked question being, of course, Was it worth it, in the end? These dispatches from Sri Lanka, written in a time of terror, delivered to an international audience that could do nothing to stop the bloodshed—was it worth it? How, really, do you value a human life against the value of his or her work?

Such was the diabolic arithmetic I was being forced to work out in real time as a small team of freedom fighters working on behalf of Russell Maroon Shoatz pressed me for an answer on the proposed assignment of working with a complete stranger to tell his life’s story. I read and reread Richard’s articles, and read and reread Maroon’s letters, which had begun to arrive in my mailbox on Georgia Avenue NW Washington, DC. I observed the words of both men fusing together in unnerving ways. Notions of duty, legacy, and artistic responsibility jostled in my mind with a dull, pervasive anxiety at the prospect of committing myself to a literary work with the highest possible stakes: another person’s life and freedom, and—if I was to follow the mad logic that resulted in Richard’s murder—possibly my own.

“Let’s say I write this book, with a high-security prisoner who’s accused of murder and who calls himself a prisoner of war,” I said to my father, trying to laugh off my deepest fears. “What’s the worst they can do to me? What’s the worst that could happen?”

To which he answered, quietly and without pause, “Deportation. Incarceration. Torture.”

I grieved that response for a long time, perhaps because it was the first time I had truly confronted the fear that the survivors of Sri Lanka’s violence—my own family, myself—carry with them, in their bones. I grieved also for these two men, one who had been killed, and the other who’d been sentenced to a different kind of death, which in the twisted parlance of the American justice system is known as Life. Maroon was serving back-to-back life sentences in solitary confinement. His letters to me were composed in the laboured hand of an old man with a youthful spirit who has been made to stare into the black abyss and see right through it, to the beauty and the hope.

I shared some of Richard’s work with Maroon, and told him, briefly, the story. He wrote back at once, soulful and wise: When we speak truth to power… When we speak truth to power… When we speak truth to power. It was, in a way, an answer to the question I had not asked, that my family have prowled around all my life, that Maroon had, I later learned, been avoiding and confronting for decades in the screaming quietude of a cage measuring five by seven feet: Was it worth it, in the end?

A year later I met Maroon in person, down in the dungeon of the State Penitentiary at Mahanoy, an all-male prison in rural Pennsylvania, in a visiting room bisected by a sheet of bulletproof glass. Throughout the visit Maroon remained shackled at the ankles and at the wrists, a bright-eyed, ageing, and agile man with whom I would collaborate for 12 years on his autobiography I Am Maroon. He did not live to see its release. It was published, posthumously, on 3 September 2024, nearly three years after Maroon died of cancer.

People often ask my family how we make sense of Richard’s life and death. It was not until I met Maroon and undertook a kind of doctoral degree in American studies under his tutelage, with his supporters acting as my academic advisors and the prisons of Pennsylvania serving as my campus, that I began to understand how legacies work: they must be allowed to live. Nothing finishes a person quite like memorialising them; nostalgia and romanticising will make quick work of whatever is left. Maroon did not suffer from nostalgia—probably because, I always assumed, it’s a deadly disease for a prisoner serving a life sentence. He was a great believer in living legacies. He mentored countless young men who were thrown into the penitentiary alongside him and saw many of them off into the free world while he continued to Do His Time. Dozens have said they regard him as a father-figure, as their greatest teacher.

As for me, writing together with Maroon, through the bars and over all the hurdles thrown at us—visits cancelled and monitored, our correspondence surveilled, letters destroyed or returned to the sender, threats and lawsuits—seemed like the most sensible way to honour Richard’s legacy in my own lifetime. Mainly because it helped me to do away with that blasted question: Was it worth it, in the end?

Turns out it’s not a question at all, but a slow reckoning with language itself, with these words that are strong enough to kill a man, and free a man. And what emerges from that reckoning is not doubt or unknowing, but a certain certainty, that you have to use words to make sense of them. You have to let them play, let them remake themselves: We are worth more than the ends they devise for us. We live, and live on, because we are worthy of life.

 

Kanya D’Almeida is a writer, and winner of the 2021 Commonwealth Short Story Prize. She is the co-author of I Am Maroon: The True Story of an American Political Prisoner, available now from Hachette Books.

Sustainable Human Development – article

Reducing inequalities for equitable, sustainable human development

Nadeera Rajapakse

Policy Tribune, Vol 1 -Issue 2/ January 2025 The Bandaranaike Academy for Leadership & Public Policy

https://balpp.com/publications/

Policy Brief

Reducing Inequalities for Sustainable, Equitable Human Development

By Professor Nadeera Rajapakse

In the context of the economic (and political) crisis and its impact on individuals, groups, and communities, recovery measures need to address existing structural inequalities for two main reasons: first, because without removing inequalities, widespread economic and social prosperity is impossible, or is at best inequitable and non-inclusive. Second, inequalities are harmful in themselves, not only as effects on economic growth. In other words, like the Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) highlight [1] , inequality is a standalone goal as well as a cross­cutting issue.

The brief makes policy recommendations aiming for meaningful, inclusive, sustainable economic development in Sri Lanka’s post-crisis context. By meaningful, we focus on people and not only on infrastructure; by inclusive we refer to policies that take into account plural identities, and by sustainable we target long-term goals over short-term profits. By using Amartya Sen’s concept of human development as enhancing personal and collective freedoms alongside GDP growth (1984, 1999) [2] , the recommendations made here aim to address the existing structural weaknesses and inequalities that have been exacerbated by Sri Lanka’s political and economic crisis. Interdisciplinary analysis is essential to take stock of intersecting categories of identity that influence inequalities. We focus on two areas, debt refinancing and the export of low-skilled labour, which are related concerns in Sri Lanka today, with widespread effects on human development.

Debt Refinancing

As a result of authoritarian political decisions on large-scale loss-inducing infrastructure investments and policies, the country faced severe foreign exchange shortages culminating in a debt crisis amounting to 103.8% of GDP as of March 2023 (Dias, 2023). [3] This crisis hit households at a time when many had not yet recovered from the shocks of COVID-19. After struggling through months of shortages of gas, fuel, electricity, medicine and many other essential items, the people took to the streets in protest.

With a change in leadership propelled by the people’s protests, the government’s response was to secure an International Monetary Fund bailout in 2022. In June 2024, the IMF agreed to a 48-month Extended Fund Facility providing the country with immediate access to about US $336 million, bringing the total funds disbursed to about US $1 billion (IMF executive board, 2024). These financing deals were linked to the IMF’s 2023 debt sustainability and requires debt to be paid down through high budget surplus.

Sri Lanka’s debt is held by both foreign and domestic creditors. Foreign creditors have been categorised into various groups [4] , of which we can differentiate bilateral creditors and ISB (International Sovereign Bond) holders and other commercial creditors. Negotiations are underway with bilateral creditors for debt relief, while ISB holders have suggested GDP growth-dependent debt restructuring. This means that debt repayments will be made according to GDP growth rates, with the country expected to pay higher interest rates on estimated future growth rates. Thus, the 28 percent debt concession granted at present could be reduced to 15 percent if growth rates surpass the limit set by the IMF (Kuruwita, 2024). In exchange for this emergency loan, the IMF imposed a series of conditions. Briefly, “further trade liberalization to promote exports and foreign direct investment; labor reforms to upgrade skills and increase female labor force participation; and state-owned enterprise reforms to improve efficiency and fiscal transparency, contain fiscal risks, and promote a level playing field for the private sector” (IMF, 2024).

These conditions along with the GDP-related concessions, calling for a budget surplus, which in turn requires greater inflows of foreign exchange, bring us to the second issue discussed here: Sri Lanka’s highest foreign exchange earner: low-skilled migrant workers.

Export of Low-skilled Migrant Labour

Contributing to 5.1% of GDP, low-skilled women migrant domestic workers (maids) overall remittances surpass earnings coming from tea and garment exports (World Bank blog, 2022). While, on the one hand, remittances are seen as exerting a positive effect on development, poverty alleviation and unemployment (Ratha, 2023), on the other hand, this type of gendered labour is characterised by exploitative and abusive working conditions, the lack of rights, and multiple layers of risk and vulnerabilities. The government has been unable to protect migrant workers and often use restrictions and bans as a way of addressing the dangers they face (Weeraratne, 2022). However, as Amartya Sen’s development framework shows, restrictions imposed on the women’s (and men’s) right to migrate and find employment opportunities only exacerbate the risks. Instead of effectively dissuading them from migrating, restrictions force migrants to seek irregular, informal means of mobility, thus exposing them to even greater vulnerabilities. Just as the IMF emphasises female labour force participation, the lack of alternative employment and of sustainable livelihood options are seen as push factors driving women to seek employment abroad despite the risks.

Exacerbating Structural Inequalities Prevalent in the Country

Inequalities

The IMF debt finance scheme was hailed by many with relief as the only resort for Sri Lanka to emerge from its debt crisis. However, many others spoke out against its debilitating effects on the wider population. The bail out came with austerity measures, including cuts in public spending, steep increases in utility tariffs, food and energy costs, indirect and regressive taxation, limited cash handouts as social security. While we separate inequalities into various categories for purposes of clarity, we insist that these categories overlap and need to be considered as intersecting and compounding factors.

Gender-based inequalities : Due to their unpaid caregiving roles at household level, women often shoulder responsibilities of ensuring families are fed, looked after and educated, even as they face falling wages, rising food, electricity and water bills, precarious and informal employment and lack of access to meaningful social security. Consequently, the current debt refinancing proposals, which prioritise external creditors and ensure re-entry into finance markets, bail out private finance (both local and global) by putting the burden on the workers, and especially women workers – both paid and unpaid. [5]

Domestic debt restructuring has placed the burden on public pension funds, with teachers and nurses, among others, having their pensions slashed. Cuts in public spending on education, health and social security will further aggravate the burden faced by women, but not only: income, age and ethnic origins are also categories upon which inequalities thrive.

Income inequalities: Colombo may look dazzling with its luxury hotels and malls, but the crises faced by working class families tell a different story. Research has shown that the quality of life of working-class families has deteriorated and that they are still battling with everyday expenses. Accumulated bills and shortages have put them in situations of severe debt, compounded by the increases in the prices of essential items, following VAT increases. They are at a “point of no return” (Colombo Urban Lab, 2023), taking loans to survive, rather than to navigate one-off shocks. Consequently, reducing inflation and bringing food prices down are welcome, though not sufficient to ensure long-term sustainable growth. Here too women face much of the burden of managing the daily needs of their families and face the pressure of negotiating loans. In a situation where alternative funding is absent, they turn to microfinance and moneylenders (Arambepola, 2019). Thus, understanding the complex and intersecting needs driving households to debt is essential when discussing the regulation of microfinance and informal credit markets.

Age-related inequalities: Older people are particularly at risk during the current situation as a result of underlying health conditions, social and economic disadvantages, and insufficient social protection mechanisms. In addition, the economic crisis led to greater food insecurity and inaccessible healthcare for older people. “Many older people aren’t receiving their full list of prescribed medicines and cannot afford to buy privately. Some have stopped taking their medications altogether, waiting until the drugs are available again. Others are turning to alternative medicines such as Ayurvedic or traditional methods which can only serve as a temporary measure” (Helpage International, 2022).

The domestic debt restructuring also worsens the situation for older people, who tend to either be out of paid work or earning very little and whose pensions and available savings are very quickly used up on food and healthcare. According to the Household Income and Expenditure Survey of 2019, people aged 65-years-old and above are the poorest group in Sri Lanka (Department of Census and Statistics, Multidimensional Poverty in Sri Lankan, 2019).

Minority rights-related inequalities: Crises and conflicts tend to exert disproportionate impacts on vulnerable groups, which include ethnic and religious minority groups in Sri Lanka, who have faced long-term patterns of discrimination (Hennayake, 2006). The State needs to recognise and remedy human rights violations to ensure justice, safety and security, essential capabilities for inclusive human development and growth (Sen, 1999). Justice is required to address enforced disappearances, land disputes, disenfranchised populations and environmental issues.

Harassment and discrimination on the basis of identity-related issues (gender, sexual origin, sexuality, religion, ethnic origin, etc.) not only impede productivity on labour markets, thus hampering economic growth, but also cause harm to society’s wellbeing (Ariyarathne, 2022).

“Decisions on economic policies must be guided by Sri Lanka’s international human rights obligations, including by ensuring adequate social protection. (…) Sri Lanka’s creditors should provide the Government with the fiscal space needed to realise economic, social and cultural rights” (Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2024).

The failure to protect minority rights and well-being creates a big push factor propelling risky, costly emigration, borne by society at large.

 

“(…) the dominant three foreign exchange earners for the country – garments, tea exports and migrant workers to the Middle East – rest on the efforts of women workers” (Ruwanpura, 2022).

The unforgiving spiral of debt servicing without considering equitable growth: The imperatives of debt service put huge pressures on essential social spending in Sri Lanka, even before being forced into debt default and having to approach the IMF for assistance. Sri Lanka now faces massive constraints even in continuing with earlier social spending levels, much less in responding adequately to the need for greater social protection in the face of the economic crisis caused by debt distress. The lack of professional skills, which would be further widened by reduced public spending, and the lack of imagination in absorbing women gainfully into the economy, along with the pressures to tend to her dependents will not remove incentives pushing women to migrate. However, valuing her work and enabling freedoms to migrate safely and work in decent conditions are feasible policy orientations.

Recommendations

Deprivations are intersecting. Some workers face numerous compounding deprivations stemming from gender and ethnic discrimination, such as women employed in the garment industry and tea-plantation workers, especially those from minority Tamil groups. Policy conditionalities associated with debt relief have rarely shown an understanding of gender dynamics, not recognising the different ways that women and men – across intersectional identities – interact with the economy, as paid and unpaid workers, as household providers, as family members and as citizens (Ghosh, 2021).

Universal social protection “Social security is not charity but a human right of all people. Women’s groups are demanding that universal social security in this time of crisis be made binding and enforceable by law. Without meaningful expansion of social safety nets and increasing fiscal allocation, targeted schemes like Aswesuma will not benefit the millions of families hit hard by the crisis.” (Dias, 2023).

Sri Lanka must move away from targeted social welfare schemes to systems that offer universal social protection, particularly in the context of crises. Targeted poverty reduction schemes have their weaknesses and in Sri Lanka, inefficient targeting as well as outdated eligibility criteria – those for the Aswesuma welfare scheme were developed before the debt crisis – result in many vulnerable groups slipping through the net. The multidimensionality of vulnerability and poverty also needs to be considered, going beyond basic income related criteria. [6]

It should also be recognised that 66 per cent of the labour force work informally, including women who do unpaid domestic care work, so have little access to social protection schemes. Similarly, only 40 to 50 per cent of older people receive any form of benefit such as pensions, provident funds, or cash payments (Helpage International, 2022). Contradictory measures like targeting the already meagre pension funds of Sri Lanka’s wage workers, only exacerbate existing class, gender, and ethnic inequalities. In particular, any requirements of public spending cuts that reduce employment in public services or reduce wages of public workers, should be avoided.

It is unrealistic to expect specific programmes targeted to women/children to undo the damage created by broader macroeconomic policies that reduce employment and livelihoods. Therefore, as far as possible, policies should be universal so as to prevent unjustified exclusion of those already disadvantaged in other ways. [7]

Collective bargaining for women migrant workers

Commodification is a phenomenon afflicting women migrants, by which they are recognised only for the service they provide, and hence low-skilled and low valued (Rajapakse, 2023). The unlimited supply of low-skilled labour from competing sending countries in the face of asymmetric power wielded by receiving countries is a situation that facilitates commodification of migrant labour. Sri Lanka’s National Migration Policy has the protection of workers as a core policy area, which can be made more efficient if sending countries negotiate collectively for their migrant workers’ rights. Turning regional rivalries in South Asia into potential collaborative endeavours, such as the Colombo Process, is imperative (IOM, 2003). [8]

The nature of vulnerabilities as well as the exploitation and abuses that low-skilled workers from the region generally experience is similar despite the differences in their nationalities. South Asian countries need to demand better terms of employment and increased protection for their workers. Most sending countries have ratified conventions and laws aimed at protecting their migrant workers. These are nonetheless ineffectual if destination countries, especially in the Middle East, have not. Developing common solutions, strategies and facilities, such as insisting on domestic work being included in labour laws in destination countries, setting up common safe houses and transit homes in destination countries, in coordination with embassies/diplomatic missions of SAARC Member States need to be done collectively. [9]

Avoiding fiscal austerity

Imposing fiscal austerity measures should be avoided because countercyclical policies are required during the downswing and debt relief measures should be directed towards ensuring such countercyclicality. Regressive indirect taxation measures like value added tax (VAT) that increase prices of essential commodities are anti-poor and anti-women and can inhibit economic recovery. They also have a significant gender dimension for female consumers and producers, since women-run Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises (MSME) are more likely to be unregistered, and therefore less able to redeem tax payments on their inputs, which are already likely to be more expensive as they are buying on a smaller scale. Instead, the structure of taxation can be changed to focus on more progressive taxation, in particular through equitable taxation of multinationals, taxes on extreme wealth, taxes on financial transactions.

Ensuring equitable labour-market participation

Since labour market participation is often at the core of IMF conditions, especially that of women, the country should take measures to ensure equal wages to men and women in both the public and private sectors. There needs to be appropriate measures for internal debt relief, especially for women-owned MSMEs in informal credit arrangements. It is important consider specific requirement of women borrowers and borrowers from previous conflict-zones who are less likely to have collateral and land titles that provide access to credit. It is also important to recognise the very specific needs of women entrepreneurs, especially with regard to access to inputs and markets. For example, facilitating childcare arrangements for working mothers and migrant mothers. Policies need to facilitate greater associations and unions of women workers, both employed, self-employed and migrant.

Considering debt cancellation

Scholars have pointed to the possibility of debts unpayable being cancelled. Debt justice movements across the developing world have urged for the cancellation of all unsustainable and illegitimate debts in a manner that is ambitious, unconditional, and without carrying repercussions for future market access. Past cases show how reducing debt stock and debt payments allow countries to increase their public financing for urgent domestic needs. The IMF’s Debt Sustainability Analysis (DSA), which measures sovereign vulnerability to sovereign debt stress, must incorporate SDG financing needs, climate vulnerabilities as well as human rights and gender equality commitments into its methodology (Ghosh, 2021). Sri Lanka is strengthening ties and membership with the BRICS and this is an opportunity to suggest greater solidarity, cooperation and stronger governance: in other words, opportunity to discuss alternatives to ultraliberal, competitive, market-based economic policies.

Strengthening Justice and Human Rights

It is essential to strengthen Sri Lanka’s Human Rights framework in order to enhance the freedoms of every person by repealing discriminatory laws (for example, 365 and 365A of the Penal Code of Sri Lanka, which criminalise same sex intimacy) and ensuring that the country move away from a military state by repealing the prevention of terrorism act. (Rajasingham Senanayake, 2011). Overall, in keeping with the goal of greater accountability and governance, stakeholders and experts need to be continuously included in participatory, deliberations on decision-making, laws, truth and reconciliation commissions and anti-corruption efforts (Orjuela, 2008).

Conclusion

We need to break the vicious spiral: because there is more power given to external creditors, maintaining investor confidence and avoiding the risk of capital flight are priorities underpinning all macroeconomic policies. As a result, public spending is further curtailed to make sure eventual capital flight can be absorbed without expanding the budget deficit. Consequently, there is lower social security and greater deprivation for many categories of people. Therefore, countries like Sri Lanka, with the greatest need of social protection for its most vulnerable categories of people, spend the least amount on it through public expenditure, which is, on the contrary directed towards debt servicing. [10]

Acknowledging that broader development depends on equitable development and considering the detrimental effects neoliberal policies have exerted in Sri Lanka, Sen’s idea of finding the middle path – combining the advantages of liberal and open economic systems with strong welfare and social protection policies and governance – offers alternative possibilities. Finally, the struggles for debt justice and overall economic justice need to be linked to the struggles for equality and freedom.

Notes

  1. SDG 10 Reduced inequalities: “Inequalities based on income, sex, age, disability, sexual orientation, race, class, ethnicity, religion and opportunity continue to persist across the world. Inequality threatens long-term social and economic development, harms poverty reduction and destroys people’s sense of fulfilment and self-worth. This, in turn, can breed crime, disease and environmental degradation. We cannot achieve sustainable development and make the planet better for all if people are excluded from the chance for a better life”. https://www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment/inequality/
  2. “The Capability approach judges individual well-being not in terms of goods consumed nor in terms of utility satisfaction, but rather on the realized functions, i.e., the set of alternatives a person has”. In Sen’s words, it is a “perspective of freedom in a positive sense: who can do what” (Sen 1984, 376).
  3. Political crisis because: “This latest round of ‘odious debt’ in Sri Lanka was created by an authoritarian and corrupt government, led by a President who initially fled the country rather than take responsibility for the economic catastrophe he unleashed. If the Pandora papers are anything to go by, a former President and an entire corrupt family clearly accumulated personal wealth at the expense of Sri Lankan people. This is an economic catastrophe that was enabled and facilitated by highly paid financiers at places like Blackrock and other private investment firms, which now hold almost 35% of Sri Lankan external debt. Their windfall profits during a global pandemic indicate the extent to which they have profited at a time of human misery” (K Ruwanpura, 2022). Also, it has been termed odious debt because “much of it is odious debt used to extract funds by both global creditors and local elite, without using it in the interests of the broader citizenry” (Yukthi, 13 May 2024).
  4. “These creditor groups are the Official Creditor Committee of official bilateral lenders (co-chaired by France, India, and Japan), who hold $5.8 billion of Lankan debt; the China Exim Bank ($4.2 billion); other Official Creditors (Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Pakistan – $0.3 billion); ISB holders ($14.2 billion); China Development Bank ($3.2 billion) and other commercial creditors (under $0.2 billion)” (Kuruwita, 2024)
  5. Amartya Sen refers to the “social technology” that enables the economic system to function thanks to the invisible contribution of women performing unpaid work (1991). $10.8 trillion – the total earnings of women’s unpaid care work as reported by Oxfam (2020)
  6. “According to the UNDP report on multidimensional vulnerability of Sri Lankans, as many as 12.34 million people in Sri Lanka (55.7% of Sri Lankans) are multi-dimensionally vulnerable, and yet only 2 million households have been selected as beneficiaries under Aswesuma” (Colombo Urban Lab, 2023).
  7. “In the 2023 budget, the Government allocated LKR 539 billion for defense and public security while household cash transfers and food relief (which includes all the key social welfare programs such as Samurdhi, allowances for elders, disabled, kidney disease, school meal programs and nutrition programs for mothers and children) was allocated LKR 187 billion. Sri Lanka continues to remain one of the countries in the region that spend the least of its GDP on social welfare” (Colombo Urban Lab, 2023).
  8. “The Regional Consultative Process on Overseas Employment and Contractual Labor for Countries of Origin in Asia or the Colombo Process aims to provide a forum for Asian labor-sending countries to (…) Share experiences, lessons learned and best practices on overseas employment and contractual labor; Consult on issues faced by overseas workers, and labor sending and receiving states, and offers practical solutions for the well-being of overseas workers, particularly the vulnerable overseas workers; Optimize development benefits from organized overseas employment, and enhance dialogue with countries of destination; and review and monitor the implementation of the ministerial recommendations and identify further steps for action” (IOM, 2003)
  9. “(…) SAARC countries, including Sri Lanka, have been in a search to find broader regional groupings that are capable of meeting particularly their economic objectives in a sustainable manner. These have included joining organizations such as the BIMSTEC and the IORA. Sri Lanka has most recently sought membership of the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP)” (Colombopage quoted in Ariyasinha, 2023). There are increasing calls that Sri Lanka seeks the membership of the BRICS – the group of emerging economies (Ariyasinha, 2023).
  10. “(…) comparing debt service payments to core social spending (covering expenditure on education, health and social protection). In upper middle income countries, just under half of the amount of social spending was spent on debt service, but in lower middle income countries (where such spending is all the more required) the debt service payments were more than social spending. Shockingly, in the low income countries, debt service payments came to 171 per cent of social spending! These are not just the poorest countries, with significant proportions of absolutely hungry people, but also the most climate-vulnerable countries, which are already experiencing a range of climate-related shocks that affect ordinary people” (Gosh, 2023).

References

Arambepola, C. Romeshun, K. 2019, Debt at My Doorstep: Microfinance Practices and Effects on Women in Sri Lanka, Centre for Poverty Analysis

Ariyarathne, Kaushalya, 2022. Impact of Sri Lanka’s economic crisis on LGBT+ population Employment, Westminster Foundation for Democracy, UK, January

Aryasinha, Ravinatha, 2023, A ‘Global Order’ in Flux: Challenges and Opportunities for Sri Lanka. Lakshman Kadirgama Institute of International Relations and Strategic Studies.

Colombo Urban Lab, 2023. Borrowing to eat. The Impact of Sri Lanka’s economic crisis on Colombo’s working class poor. September

Department of Census and Statistics. 2019. Multidimensional Poverty in Sri Lanka. www.statistics.gov.lk/Poverty/Staticallnfor

Dias, Prashani. 2023. Expert’s Take: Six ways Sri Lanka’s National Action Plan on Women, Peace and Security will support women during crises, UNWomen, Thursday, 8 June

Ghosh, Jayati, 2023. The International Financial System and Women’s Poverty. Background paper for CSW68 Expert Group Meeting | UN Women – Headquarters

Ghosh, Jayati. 2021. Gender concerns in debt relief, IIED, London. Helpage International, 2022.

Sri Lanka’s economic crisis hits older people hard – an urgent call for action Hennayake, Nalani. 2006. Culture, Politics, and Development in Postcolonial Sri Lanka, Lexington Books, Oxford

ILO, 2014. SAARC commits to helping migrant workers, https://www.ilo.org/resource/news/saarc- commitsDhelping-migrant-workers

IMF Executive Board, 2024. IMF Executive Board Concludes 2024 Article IV Consultation with Sri Lanka and Completes the Second Review Under the Extended Fund Facility. https://www.imf.org/en/News/Articles/2024/06/12/pr-24214-sri-lanka-imf-concludes-2024- article-ivDconsultation-completes-2nd-review-under-eff

IOM, 2003. Regional Consultative Process on Overseas Employment and Contractual Labor for Countries of Origin in Asia (Colombo Process). https://www.iom.int/regional-consultative-process- overseasDemployment-and-contractual-labor-countries-origin-asia-colombo-process

Kuruwita, Rathindra, 2024. “Sri Lanka’s Debt Restructuring Deal: Economic Relief or Creditor Windfall?” The Diplomat. https://thediplomat.com/2024/07/sri-lankas-debt-restructuring-deal- economic-relief-orDcreditor-windfall/

Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2024, Sri Lanka: Transformational changes needed for accountability and reconciliation – UN report. https://www.ohchr.org/en/press- releases/2024/08/sriDlanka-transformational-changes-needed-accountability-and-reconciliation

Orjuela, Camilla, 2008. The Identity Politics of Peacebuilding: Civil Society in War-Torn Sri Lanka. Sage Publications.

Rajapakse, Nadeera. 2023. “Women Migrant Workers and Market Forces: Toward an Inter­disciplinary Representation of Female Labor Migration,” Research in the History of Economic Thought and Methodology, volume 41, pages 3-25, Emerald Group Publishing Limited.

Rajasingham Senanayake, Darini. 2011. “Is Post-War Sri Lanka Following the ‘Military Business Model’”. Economic and Political Weekly, April 2-8, Vol. 46, No. 14, pp. 27-30

Ratha,                     Dilip.                    2023.                      Resilient                                Remittances,         IMF.

https://www.imf.org/en/Publications/fandd/issues/2023/09/B2B-resilient-remittances-dilip-ratha

Revollo, P.E. 2020. Time to Care: Methodology note. Oxfam. https://www.google.com/url? sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://oxfamilibrary.openrepository.com/bitstrea m/handle/10546/620928/rr-time-to-care-methodology-200120-

en.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwjk4PjJ_rGJAxVVRaQEHTvhOKIQFnoECBUQAQ&usg=AOvVaw3epYjJj4 vVyW pH5VH3vZmv

Ruwanpura, K, Muchhala, B, & Rao, S. 2022. Gendering the debt crisis: Feminists on Sri Lanka’s financial crisis, https://developingeconomics.org/2022/12/02/gendering-the-debt-crisis-feminists-on- sri-lankasDfinancial-crisis /

Sen, Amartya. 1999. Development as Freedom. New York: Alfred Knopf

Sen, Amartya. 1991. On Ethics and Economics, Blackwell Publishers, Oxford.

Weeraratne, Bilesha. 2022. Good Riddance to the FBR: What Next to Increase Migrant Remittances to Sri Lanka? Jul 04,https://www.ips.lk/talkingeconomics/?author=42,

Yukthi 2024, YUKTHI Calls for Rejecting the Recent Bond Deal, https://yukthisl.org/yukthi-calls- forQrejecting-the-recent-bond-deal/

Yukthi, 2024, A platform for working people in Sri Lanka’s economic crisis. 13 May.

https://yukthisl.org/debt-justice

History – Archive of memory

https://www.archiveofmemory.lk

“The Archive of memory seeks to reflect on 70 years of Independence by focusing on the perspectives and experiences of ordinary Sri Lankans. Each story pivots around a specific object which is in turn associated with a personalized story that is linked to a significant event in Sri Lanka’s political, economic or social history”.

Some extracts:

சிலேட்பென்சில்

நான் பிறந்தது இரத்தினபுரி மாவட்டத்தில் ஆனாலும் எனது பாடசாலை வயதிலான பழைய ஞாபகங்கள் நிறைந்துள்ளது கேஹெலேள்ளையிலாகும். என்னை தத்தெடுப்பதும் நான் குனுமுள்ள பாடசாலையில் சேர்வதும் அங்கே. என் ஆருயிர் நண்பனின் பெயர் பிரபாகரன். 1957ம் ஆண்டு யூத்தத்திற்கு முன்னைய காலக்கட்டத்தில் அந்த பெயருக்கு எந்தவொரு விசேஷமும் இருக்க வில்லை. எனக்கு அவன் தமிழ் என்றே தெரியாது. எனக்கு அவனை ஞாபகம் வரும் போது அவனின் இடது காதிலுள்ள ஓட்டையே ஞாபகத்துக்கு வரும்.

நாங்கள் நாலாவது தரத்தில் படிக்கும் போது எலார – துடுகெமுனு போரை பற்றி படிப்பித்தார்கள். கதை முழுதாகவே கெமுனுவின் கோணத்தில் இருந்ததால் எம்மவர்கள் அனைவருக்கும் எலார ஒரு வில்லனாக தெரிந்தார். எங்கள் ஆசிரியர் கெமுனு இளவரசரின் சிறுவயதில் நடந்த மறக்கமுடியாத ஒரு அனுபவக் கதையூம் கூட கூறினார். இளவரசனின் தாய் விகார மகா தேவிஇ ஒரு நாள் இளவரசரை பார்த்து ஒரு கேள்வி கேட்டாராம். “இவ்வளவூ இடம் கட்டிலில் இருக்கும் போது ஏன் சுருங்கி நித்திரை கொள்கிறாய்” என கேட்டபோது இளவரசர் பதில் அளித்தாராம்இ “வடக்கு திசையில் பர தெமழுஇ தெற்கு திசையில் ஊமை கடல் என்று.

வகுப்பிற்கு பிறகு நாங்கள் வழமைபோன்று விளையாடுவதற்காக வெளியில் சென்றௌம். எங்கள் வகுப்பில் ஒரு மாணவர் பிரபாகரனுடன் சண்டை பிடித்தமையால் பிரபாகரனுக்கு கல் துண்டால் குத்தினான். அந்த கல் துண்டு 6 இஞ்சி உயரமானது நாங்கள் கல்லால் எழுதுவதற்கு உபயோகித்த பென்சிலாகும். 1977 ம் ஆண்டு தமிழ் விரோதத்திற்கு பிறகு பிரபாகரன் குடும்பத்துடன் ஊரை விட்டு போய்விட்டான். அத்துடனே எனக்கும் அவனுக்கு இருந்த உறவூம் எங்களை விட்டு சென்றுவிட்டது.

பாரக்கிரம நிரியல்ல,
கேஹெலேள்ளஇ திவூலப்பிடி

 

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කොහු ලණු

මට මතක හැටියට මේ හතලිස් හතේ අටේ විතර. හැම සඳුදාම උදේට මම උණවටුනේ ඉඳන් ගාල්ලේ මහින්දෙට ඉස්කෝලේ යන්න බයිසිකලෙත් එක්ක මහ පාරට බහිද්දී ලුසී හාමි අක්කා කියන වයසක අම්මා මට මුණගැහෙනවා. ‘අනේ මහත්තයෝ හාල් සේරුවක් ගන්න කීයක් හරි දෙන්න’ කියලා මගෙන් ඉල්ලනවා. ඉතිං මට කෑමක් ගන්න ගෙදරින් දුන්න සත විසිපහ එයාට දෙනවා. ඒ කාලේ හාල් සේරුවක් සත විසිපහයි. වාසනාවකට මගේ පන්තියේ ළමයි විවේක වෙලාවෙදි මට වඩේයි ප්ලේන්ටියි අරන් දෙනවා.

දවසක් මම වෙරළ දිගේ ඇවිදිනකොට දැක්කා ලුසී හාමි අක්කාගේ පැල්පතේ අක්කා කොහු අඹරනවා. ඉතිං මම ලඟට ගිහිං ඇහුවා ‘ලුසී හාමි අක්කේ ඔයා කොහු අඹරනවානේ ඇයි එහෙනං මගෙන් හැමදාම සල්ලි ඉල්ලන්නේ’ කියලා. ‘අනේ මහත්තයෝ අත ලේ යනකම් අඹරලත් මුළු සුමානෙම හම්බවෙන්නේ 2.50යි.’

මම කොහු ලණු ගන්න මුදලාලිව හොයන් ගිහිං ඇහුවා කොහු ලණු ගාල්ලට විකුණන්නේ කීයටද කියලා. 7.50 ට. පස්සේ ගාල්ලේ කොම්පැනියට ගිහිං හෙව්වා. ඒගොල්ලෝ ඒවා විකුනන්නේ රුපියල් 16කට. එතනින් පස්සේ මම කොහු කාර්මිකයන්ගේ සමූපකාර සමිතියක් හැදුවා. ගමේ කොහු අඹරණ දුප්පත් ගැහැණු 80 දෙනෙක් විතර සාමාජිකයෝ වුණා. තාත්තා සල්ලි ටිකක් දුන්නා. අපේ බාප්පා කෙනෙකුට කියලා කොහු අඹරන්න පොඩි මඩුවක් හැදෙව්වා.

ඉතිං මං ජීවිතේ මුල් වතාවට කොළඹ ආවේ අපේ සමූපකාර සමිතිය ලියාපදිංචි කරන්න. නිදහසින් පස්සේ පත් කරපු මුල්ම ආණ්ඩුවේ සමූපකාර හා ස්වදේශ කටයුතු ඇමති අබේරත්න රත්නායක මට ඉස්සෙල්ලාම මුණ ගැහෙන්නේ එතනදි.

පස්සේ කාලේ මම නාලන්දා විද්‍යාලයේ උගන්වන කාලේ ශිෂ්‍යයින් එක්ක එකතු වෙලා ශ්‍රමදාන ව්‍යාපාරයක් පටන් ගත්තා. අපේ පළවෙනි වැඩසටහන සිද්ධ කලේ කුලහීන ගම්මානයක් වුණ කනතො`ඵව ගමේ. සර්වෝදය ශ්‍රමදාන ව්‍යාපාරයට අඩිතාලම වැටෙන්නේ එතනදි. ඒ ගමේ ගැහැණුන්ට ගමෙන් එළියට යනකොට හැට්ට ඇඳගෙන යන්න තහනම්. ඒ මිනිස්සු දානේ අරගෙන පන්සලට ගෙනිච්චහම හාමුදුරුවෝ දානේ බාරගත්තේ නැහැ. ඒ මිනිස්සු දානේ ගල උඩ තියලා ආවේ. පස්සේ ඒවා බල්ලෝ කනවා.

කොහු කාර්මිකයන්ගේ සමූපකාර සමිතියෙන් පටන් ගත්ත මගේ වැඩේ පස්සේ ගම්මාන 15,000 ක කුල පීඩනයට, දුප්පත්කමට, සූරාකෑමට විරුද්ධව සටන් කරන ව්‍යාපාරයක් බවට පත්වුණා.


ඒ. ටී. ආරියරත්න
මොරටුව

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Saree pota

I was 8-years old during the bheeshana kalaya (time of terror), in 1988. Most schools were closed though mine opened for a few hours per day to teach us Maths and Science as the management thought they were the most important subjects. I hate these two subjects to this day because of that! We couldn’t wear uniforms to school and were also drilled on how to take cover under our desks, in case of an emergency. In the night, we would often hear gunshots and the elders would speculate how many had been killed and where their bodies might be found the next day. One day, I was accompanying my mother to a parent-teacher meeting in school when she suddenly covered my eyes with her saree pota (fall) and asked me to pinch my nose tightly. It was a beautiful morning; the sun was shining and people were going about their routines but through her diaphanous, rose-patterned saree pota, I glimpsed several young men burning on a pile of tyres. This was the first time I had seen anyone naked, let alone dead.

Nayana (pseudonym),

Panadura

 

 

 

Nouvelle publication – Les dieux manqués de l’EELAM

Les dieux manqués de l’EELAM
Militance, défaite et exil des combattants des Tigres Tamouls (Sri Lanka)

de Giacomo Mantovan

Editions Harmattan, 2025

Cet ouvrage analyse l’expérience de la guerre, de la défaite et de l’exil des combattants – hommes et femmes – des Tigres de libération de l’Eelam tamoul (LTTE), une organisation militaire qui a lutté pour l’indépendance de la minorité tamoule au Sri Lanka (1983-2009). Bien que les LTTE soient principalement connus pour leur violence, on sait peu de choses sur la vie et les expériences des combattants de cette organisation. À travers les témoignages des vétérans exilés en France, ce livre reconstruit le processus suivant lequel les LTTE ont créé des soldats qui incarnaient la volonté politique de l’organisation et, en second lieu, la manière dont les combattants ont internalisé l’idéologie et l’imaginaire des LTTE, par les représentations partagées, mais également par le corps et les émotions.
En analysant des éléments clés des trajectoires de vie des combattants (l’entraînement militaire, le combat, la torture et l’emprisonnement, la mort des camarades, le vécu des femmes soldates, la défaite et l’exil), l’ouvrage examine comment ces expériences ont façonné leurs identités et leur manière d’interagir avec le monde.

New publication: History of Women’s Health in Sri Lanka

A Critical History of Women’s Health in Modern Sri Lanka
Darshi Thoradeniya,
Orient Black Swan, 2024
 
Book launched held at ICES (International Centre for Ethnic Studies):
 
Sri Lanka gained prominence in international policy circles as an apparent ‘success story’ in the initial two decades of its independence. Crucial to this perception is women’s health, given its central importance to the indicators of decreasing population growth rate and decreasing mortality. However, how have individual women’s bodies fared within the twentieth-century Sri Lankan stories of development?

Through an examination of the history of women’s health in this island nation, A Critical History of Women’s Health in Modern Sri Lanka sets out to answer this question. Darshi Thoradeniya traces women’s health from the initial days of birth control and family planning, to development and population control, to militarization and financialization of women’s bodies. Questioning this ‘success story’, she shows how women’s bodies were framed around the notion of social reproduction for the nation-building project of post-independence Sri Lanka.

Through meticulous research, interviews, policies and advertisements, and oral narratives, the author highlights how the Sri Lankan state made use of women’s health, while at the same time silencing women’s corporeal experiences.

She argues that even though women’s health serves the state-building project and women’s bodies serve the nation-building project, women were neither subjects nor objects of these two projects. Women’s reproductive bodies were, rather, the ground for a complex and competing set of struggles on population, family planning, development, modernization and ethno-nationalism of post-independence Sri Lanka

This book will be a valuable addition to the fields of public health and public policy, history, women’s studies, history of medicine and the sociology of medicine.”

https://www.ices.lk/event-details/a-critical-history-of-womens-health-in-modern-sri-lanka

 

 

Shobasakthi – Itinéraire d’un réfugié

Shoba – Itinéraire d’un réfugié

“INEDIT

Au Sri Lanka, alors que les populations cingalaise et tamoule s’efforcent de vivre ensemble, un nouveau gouvernement arrive au pouvoir et accorde tous les privilèges aux Cingalais. Nous sommes en 1983, le pays bascule dans la guerre civile.
Comme celle de milliers d’adolescents, la vie d’Antonythasan, surnommé « Shoba », change du jour au lendemain. Il prend les armes, quitte sa famille, et rejoint les rebelles du mouvement de la Libération Tamoule (LTTE). Mais ces derniers tombent dans l’engrenage de la violence, s’attaquent aux civils, et Shoba ne veut plus soutenir leurs actions. Comment partir sans trahir les siens ? Recherché, persécuté par la milice, le jeune homme se résout à l’exil.
Des rives de l’île de Velanaï à Paris, en passant par les prisons de Bangkok, Shoba revient sur la période méconnue de la guerre civile au Sri Lanka. Il nous offre le témoignage inédit d’un homme, à la fois amoureux de son pays et en quête d’une terre d’asile.”

Interview de Shobasakthi

Perspectives on history in Sri Lanka – Herstories, Everystory

https://theherstoryarchive.org


“This archival project is first of a series of Sri Lankans’ histories that focuses on mothers from the South and North. It highlights their strength in the face of adversity, and their hopes for their children’s and Sri Lanka’s future. Mothers are guardians of their family history. They are the pillars of strength upon which a family is built. As such, this project chooses to archive mothers’ stories, thereby recording the story of an entire family.

Copyright © 2013 Herstories project”

 

https://theherstoryarchive.org

https://www.youtube.com/@HerStoryArchives/videos

Everystory

“Empowering Voices and Inspiring Change

Everystory Lanka (formed in 2018) is a Sri Lankan-based feminist collective focused on storytelling and knowledge sharing. We use creative practices, mixed media, panel discussions, and more to create this space. We believe that stories and knowledge come in all shapes and forms, and it is within this complexity and potential for creativity that we engage.”

https://everystorysl.org/aboutus

Everystory – Day in the Life Trailer
 
 
Everystory, in collaboration with the Embassy of France to Sri Lanka and the Maldives, presents A Day in the Life series – an audio-visual campaign that captures the everyday resilience of women in Sri Lanka who have shaped or been shaped by the country’s political, cultural, and social contexts.
In its pilot edition, launched in the spirit of the 2024 French Olympics, the series follows three Sri Lankan sportswomen through their day. From training sessions to balancing domestic responsibilities, careers, or education, we delve into their reflections on life, the challenges and politics of their practice, and the moments that inspire them to keep moving forward.
Stay tuned to our socials and YouTube as we share their stories.
 
Everystory, ශ්රී ලංකාවේ සහ මාලදිවයිනේ ප්රංශ තානාපති කාර්යාලය සමඟ සහයෝගයෙන්, රටේ දේශපාලන, සංස්කෘතික, සහ සමාජ සන්දර්භයන් හැඩගැස්වූ හා ඒවායින් හැඩගැස්වුනු, ශ්රී ලංකාවේ කාන්තාවන්ගේ එදිනෙදා ඔරොත්තු දීමේ හැකියාව ග්රහණය කර ගන්නා ශ්රව්ය-දෘශ්ය වියාපාරයක් වන A Day in the life වීඩියෝ මාලාව ඉදිරිපත් කරයි.
2024 ප්රංශ ඔලිම්පික් උළෙලේ ආත්මය තුලින් දියත් කරන ලද මෙම වීඩියෝ මාලාවේ නියමු සංස්කරණය ශ්රී ලාංකික ක්රීඩිකාවන් තිදෙනෙකු ඔවුන්ගේ දවස පුරා අනුගමනය කරයි. පුහුණු සැසිවල සිට ගෘහ වගකීම්, වෘත්තීන් හෝ අධ්යාපනය සමතුලිත කිරීම් දක්වා, අපි මෙහදී සොයා බැලුවේ ඔවුන්ට තම ජිවිත පිළිබදව ඇති ආවර්ජන, ඔවුන්ගේ ක්රීඩා පුහුණුවේ තිබෙන අභියෝග සහ එහි දේශපාලනය, සහ ඉදිරියට යාමට ඔවුන්ව පොළඹවන අවස්ථා පිළිබඳවයි.
අපි ඔවුන්ගේ කථා අපගේ සමාජ ජාලා සහ යූ ටියුබ් වලින් බෙදා හරින විට රැඳී සිටින්න.
 
எவ்ரிஸ்டோரி இலங்கை, இலங்கை மற்றும் மாலைதீவுகளுக்கான பிரான்ஸ் தூதரகத்துடன் இணைந்து, எ டே இன் தி லைஃப் என்ற தொடரை வழங்குகிறது – இது ஒரு ஒலி-ஒளி ஊடான பிரச்சாரம் ஆகும், இது இலங்கையின் அரசியல், பண்பாட்டு மற்றும் சமூக சூழல்களால் வடிவமைக்கப்பட்ட அல்லது அவற்றை வடிவமைத்த மகளிரின் தினசரி வாழ்வை பதிவு செய்கிறது.
2024 ஆம் ஆண்டின் பிரெஞ்சு ஒலிம்பிக்ஸின் கருப்பொருளை பிரதிபலிக்கும் வகையில் தொடங்கப்பட்ட இதன் முதற் பதிப்பில், வீடியோ தொடர்கள் மூன்று பெண் இலங்கை விளையாட்டு வீரர்களின் அவர்களின் அன்றாட வாழ்க்கை வழியாக பின்தொடர்கிறது.பயிற்சிகள் முதல் வீட்டு அன்றாட பொறுப்புகள், தொழில் மற்றும் கல்வி ஆகியவற்றை சமமாக சமாளித்தல் , அவர்களின் வாழ்க்கை, அவர்களின் நடைமுறை
Producer – Thadini Liyanage
Cinematographer – Yoshitha Perera
Sound engineer – Bhanu Ekanayake
Editor – Sandaruwan Abesinghe
Music composed and produced by Hania Mariam Luthufi
Santoor – Marilia Pilti
Viola – Marton Kopcsik
Voice – Hania Mariam Luthufi

https://www.facebook.com/Everystory.SL/videos/4765506710341119

Reading list from everystory:

https://everystorysl.org/blog/september-2024-narrative-reading-list-on-girlhood