7  Living amid War in Jaffna

With the departure of the Indian troops from Sri Lanka in March 1990, the LTTE marched into Jaffna in strength, overran the EPRLF’s military camp in Maniyanthodamm, Ariyalai and assumed total control of the Peninsula. The Sri Lankan armed forces were confined in three strategic locations - the Jaffna Fort, Pallaly Air Base and in Elephant Pass. Taking a break from the peace talks in Colombo, we arrived in Jaffna at the end of March and found temporary accommodation in a house in Valvettiturai. In Jaffna city and elsewhere in the Peninsula, we could see people greatly relieved at the IPKF’s withdrawal and overjoyed at their newfound freedom. After two years of war and military occupation by a foreign army the Jaffna people were putting their lives back together again and a sense of normalcy and tranquillity prevailed. The goodwill of the people and their enthusiastic support for the LTTE was demonstrated in their mass participation at Poopathy Amma’s ¹ memorial meeting at Nallur Kandasamy Temple on April 19th. It was a similar situation two weeks later on May 1st. A festive atmosphere characterised the May Day rallies. Tens of thousands of people from all over the Jaffna Peninsula turned out to hear from the LTTE leaders what the future had in store for them. Bala and Yogi briefed the people on the developments in the sensitive talks with the Sri Lankan government. I was also given the opportunity to address the rally on the question of women workers.

¹ Kanapathipillai Poopathy affectionately and reverently known as ‘Poopathy Amma’ amongst the Tamil people, is one of the most remarkable women in the history of the Tamil freedom struggle. Poopathy Amma was born in the Batticaloa village of Kiran on 3rd November 1932. On 19th March 1988, the fifty six year old grandmother Poopathy Amma staged a fast-to-death at Mahmangam Pillayar temple, demanding an immediate, unconditional cease-fire between the LTTE and the IPKF and unconditional talks between the LTTE and the Indian government. Poopathy Amma’s life was one of both personal tragedy and courage. Two of her sons were killed during military operations and round-ups of villages by the Sri Lankan armed forces and another was taken into custody and tortured. She became a vociferous critic of human rights violations by the Sri Lankan armed forces and was a political activist and social worker. She was outraged by the death and mayhem caused by the IPKF during the Indo-LTTE war. When the Indian army banned political activity, Poopathy Amma ignored the orders and organised demonstrations and protests against the IPKF atrocities. When the IPKF harassed fasting women protestors, Poopathy Amma undertook the hunger strike to achieve her political objectives. For thirty days Poopathy Amma refused food and FLUIDS before she succumbed. Her fast-to-death exceeded the duration of Thileepan’s struggle in September 1987, about which I have written in Chapter IV.

We took the interval of peace to get together with many old colleagues and ‘catch up’ with old friends. Sugi, the leader of the LTTE women’s wing, decided to marry her long time boyfriend Grazy. Her wedding at her home in Mandaitivu was a joyous occasion for all the cadres after years without social functions. Bala was also anxious to visit his school friend Mr. Kandasamy living in Alvai and reclaim our dog Jimmy, from him. This creature had not forgotten us after two years and ran round and round the compound in joy. We also visited all the families in Vadamarachchi who had taken great risks to assist us during those trying days under pursuit by the Indian army. Sadly, we learned that many cadres who had assisted us when we were underground had been killed during round ups by the Indian army. On inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Kingsley, we were told that after we left Vadamarachchi in 1987, he went to Trincomalee where he was killed in combat.

The euphoria of the Tamil people was short lived. The outbreak of war with Sri Lanka in the second week of June 1990 and the collapse of the peace talks between the LTTE and Premadasa’s regime put an end to the congenial atmosphere as well as the hopes and expectations that dominated Jaffna. With the resumption of hostilities, Premadasa’s administration adopted harsh policies subjugating the Tamil civilians to extreme hardships. Electricity and telecommunications were cut off plunging Jaffna into darkness and in isolation from the rest of the world. The Sinhala state began to economically strangle the Tamil nation. A stringent economic blockade was imposed causing acute shortages of food and medicine in the North. The absence of electricity and fuel paralysed industries, transport and seriously affected agriculture. Unemployment was rampant and the cost of living became extremely high.

Slowly, the objective conditions of war gripped Jaffna. When the sound of artillery shelling and aerial bombardment returned to the Peninsula, people rushed to clean up their old bunkers or to dig new ones. The proud and ever resilient Jaffna people prepared themselves to face the challenges of the new turn of events.

When the war broke out we were residing near the lighthouse at Munai in Point Pedro. One couldn’t have asked for anything closer to paradise than this elegant old house just twenty-five yards off the beach and surrounded by coconut trees. So we were extremely reluctant to abandon it regardless of the danger we were in. Soosai and our bodyguards encouraged us to relocate deeper inside Vadamarachchi. They warned us that the Sri Lankan troops might attempt an amphibious landing on the beach in front of our house. It was only the regular, indiscriminate shelling of coastal fishing villages by patrolling naval gunboats, and the frequent sorties by planes that made us realise the advice to move further inland was prudent.

Our departure from the Point Pedro beach house to another residence in Athiyaddy, Jaffna, marked the beginning of a saga of relocating houses both in the Peninsula and in the Vanni for nearly a decade as we became ‘soft’ targets for the Sri Lankan Air Force. Some of the houses we occupied received direct hits by bombing. The beautiful old house in Point Pedro was eventually bombed and partially destroyed.

The Battle for Jaffna Fort

The resumption of hostilities between the LTTE and the Sri Lanka government shifted the emphasis away from the politics of peace and dialogue to the war of liberation. The strategy of liberating occupied territories took the centre stage again.

In Mr. Pirabakaran’s analysis, the Fort garrison occupying the heart of Jaffna posed a serious danger to the LTTE administration. Built by the Dutch centuries ago, with security uppermost in their minds, the Fort was situated along the Northern coast of Jaffna in close proximity to the Pannai causeway that linked the Peninsula with the islands of Mandaitivu and Kayts. But apart from its strategically crucial location, the Fort garrison was also serious threat to the lives of civilians living in the Jaffna city. The Sinhala troops manning the Fort regularly launched indiscriminate mortar attacks on civilian areas causing several casualties. The Jaffna General Hospital, just a short distance from the Fort, was also subjected to mortar fire. Terrified patients and staff were regularly compelled to vacate the hospital for safer ground during these attacks. Equally significant was the political symbolism that the Fort represented. For the Tamils, the Fort, built during the period of Dutch colonial domination, stood as a monument to alien occupation of their homeland. For the Sri Lankan state, the military occupation of the Fort symbolised its ‘sovereignty’ over Jaffna and its population. Therefore, the Tiger leadership had significant political and military interests vested in taking control of the Fort and was fiercely determined to do so. But a direct ground assault on the Fort garrison would have been suicidal. Built as an impenetrable stronghold, surrounded by a deep moat, the Fort was a formidable strong point. Instead, Mr. Pirabakaran opted to lay siege to it. The mechanisms for a siege were set in place amid a deteriorating cease-fire and it began on 18th June 1990, just a week after the outbreak of full- blown hostilities. The LTTE’s combat units surrounded the Fort precincts and having taken up positions in well-constructed bunkers, pounded the Fort with mortar bombs. Fifty-calibre antiaircraft guns were moved closer to the site and the combined firepower was sufficient to effectively cut the helicopter borne delivery of supplies to the besieged soldiers. Surrounded and bombarded by sustained mortar assaults and with the supply lines cut off, the Sinhala troops were brought under severe psychological pressure. Determined to prevent the fall of the Fort, the Premadasa regime undertook a ferocious bombing campaign in Jaffna to support the beleaguered troops. All combat aircraft and helicopter gunships were mobilised for day and night aerial bombardment. The intense aerial bombing and artillery fire (from Pallaly base) blasted not only the surroundings of the Fort, but indiscriminately extended to residential areas in the city. This campaign of blind bombardment caused heavy civilian casualties and eventually destroyed thousands of houses in Jaffna. Many people vacated the area and those who remained behind spent hours in their makeshift underground bunkers. The brief period we spent in Athiyaddy, just a few miles from the Fort, was a nightmare. Helicopter gunships strafed the area day and night. Aerial bombardment was continuous. We lived out each day expecting a bomb to fall on our house at any moment. One day the Jaffna LTTE Commander, Banu, visited our residence and warned us to vacate the house immediately. He told us that the LTTE’s military intelligence wing had learned that the Air Force had obtained, through local agents, information on the location of our residence. On his advice, we shifted out of Jaffna and went to live in Vathiri, Vadamarachchi. A few days later we learned that the house in Athiyaddy had been reduced to rubble after receiving a direct hit by a barrel bomb.

After a protracted siege, the Jaffna Fort eventually fell to the LTTE fighters on 26th September, the anniversary of Thileepan’s death. The siege had lasted 107 days. With supply lines effectively cut off, the Sri Lankan troops holed up inside the Fort faced the possibility of slow death by starvation. Finally the Sri Lankan army launched a covert operation at night and secured the withdrawal of the troops through an underground tunnel leading to the Jaffna. lagoon shore at the rear of the fortification.

Life in Vadamarachchi

Our return to Vadamarachchi did little to change our uncertain life. Although the ground battles were being fought elsewhere - in the vicinity of Pallaly military complex - Vadamarachchi was subjected to aerial bombardment, helicopter raids and naval shelling. These regular attacks constantly reminded us that we were living under conditions of war. Routine sorties over Vadamarachchi by Air Force planes and helicopter gunships became a terrifying part of people’s lives. The appearance in the sky of planes and helicopters sent them fleeing to safety. Those with bunkers snatched up their children and fled to the underground for protection. Less fortunate ones (and there were many) watched the planes circle in the sky for some indication of where the bombing would take place. Apart from high explosive bombs, planes dropped crude homemade barrels of inflammatory material such as tar. An entire family would be wiped out if one of these barrels scored a direct hit on a house. Perilous also, was the barrel bombs randomly dropped as the transport planes passed over Vadamarachchi en route from one place to the other. Disgustingly, the Air Force personnel displayed their racial hatred by dropping barrels of excreta on the Tamil people. The induction of supersonic jets added a new and terrifying dimension to the war against the people. The sound of approaching warplanes and their appearance in the sky as a circling dot was like an omen of death. The screaming noise of diving bombers delivering their lethal cargo was spine-chilling. These indiscriminate bombing raids on civilian areas caused heavy casualties.

Helicopter gunships also played their part in killing, maiming and terrorising people. The strafing of civilians was a sport for the crew of the helicopters. For example, I was visiting some friends living in front of the local Manthikai hospital when we heard a helicopter approach the area. We all knew that a helicopter close by meant trouble was at hand. Everybody became alert in preparation for its attack. Suddenly the sound of automatic machine gun fire rattled through the air. The low flying helicopter was circling the shopping area of Point Pedro town and firing indiscriminately into the civilians. Having finished the ‘fun’ there, the helicopter approached the hospital. We took cover behind a concrete wall trying to avoid the fifty calibre bullets. After about half an hour of this ‘joyride’ the helicopter disappeared. Fortunately nobody was injured during this attack. But these frequent helicopter raids made travelling by vehicle or bus a hazardous exercise. It is impossible to recollect the number of times our vehicle took cover under trees to avoid being spotted by helicopters. I can also remember being chased by a helicopter as we crossed Vallai Veli (expanse), the two- mile open road, which links Vadamarachchi to Valigamam in Jaffna. Several civilians lost their lives and many were injured when helicopters strafed and rocketed buses when crossing this area of open space. Overloaded with passengers, buses were unable to move quickly at the sound of an approaching helicopter and would be caught in the middle of the open road, making them sitting ducks for the airborne crews who seemed to delight in firing at the obvious civilian targets.

The Sri Lankan Navy also played its part in the destruction of Vadamarachchi. Scores of people have been killed and injured and hundreds of concrete houses along the coastal belt of Valvettiturai and Point Pedro been reduced to rubble by systematic naval bombardment. Naval shelling interrupted my Tamil classes at a house in Thumpalai, a few hundred yards from the Point Pedro beach, and compelled my teacher and myself to seek cover in the bunker.

In these circumstances we were forced to live the life of a mole and in every house we occupied the first and the foremost task was to dig out a bunker in the compound. Six feet deep and two feet wide, L shaped with an entrance at the back and front, and covered with huge tree trunks and a pile of sand bags on the top, these dark boltholes provided us safety during our life in the Jaffna Peninsula, and later, in the Vanni. Contributing to our security arrangements was a team of bodyguards living in adjoining houses or in cottages in the compound. The fences surrounding the houses we lived in were raised to seven feet high with iron sheets, giving an appearance of a mini-military camp. Whether we liked it or not, that was the life of LTTE cadres. People could easily identify these ‘iyakkam’ (Movement) houses from their external appearance.

New Image of Women Cadres

The fall of the Fort to the LTTE ushered in relative security to the residents of the city and surrounding suburbs. We decided to move back into Jaffna to be closer to the political hub of the LTTE. Initially we took a house at Chundukili near the coast. From here Bala had easier access to the LTTE leaders and cadres and it was more convenient for his work. The women cadres also had many political issues to contend with and they often came to see me to discuss these problems. Gayathri, a university student before she joined the LTTE and a senior cadre from the ‘Birds of Freedom’ group, had taken over as editor of the women’s monthly magazine ‘Suthanthira Paravaikal’. She was a regular visitor, in search of ideas for the magazine. Jeyanthi was now in charge of the women’s military wing and Jeya (who lived with us in Chennai) was the leader of the Women’s Front, the political wing of the LTTE women. Jeyanthi and Jeya - both from Vadamarachchi - had been in the first batch of girls to be trained in Tamil Nadu in 1985. Theepa, also from the Chennai days and the first batch of trainees, was a close confidante of Jeyanthi. All three young women were close to us and Jeyanthi often organised days out for us at her bases. Her main base was a huge training centre in Kalally, Thenmarachchi and the other in Polygandy in Vadamarachchi. Bala was often included in these outings to give classes on politics and sociology to the women cadres and to keep them informed of political developments.

But now the entire image of women cadres had fundamentally changed. The rifle carrying women guerrillas of the LTTE in camouflage uniforms who marched into Jaffna after the withdrawal of the Indians in 1990, represented a radical departure from the casually dressed young women who, two years earlier, had retreated in disarray to the jungles of the Vanni. They were now well trained, combat experienced and confident. It was obvious to the crowds who gathered to see the spectacle of patrols of women contingents, that a new wave had swept through the society and this generated considerable debate. While many admired the sacrifice and commitment of the women fighters, they also felt threatened by the possibility of fundamental change in the role and image of Tamil women and its impact on culture. The perennial debate - tradition versus change- reared its head and centred on the women cadres themselves. For sections of the conservative Jaffna Tamils, the sight of young unmarried Tamil women in military fatigues patrolling the Jaffna streets with rifles, was in stark contrast to the historic image of demure, long- haired Tamil women in saris or dresses, and thus signified a death knell to tradition and a threat to their culture. The debate, nature versus nurture, was thrashed out in common-sense terms in homes everywhere and the battle between tradition and change was often heated. Many viewed the women cadres in the new role as armed freedom fighter as ‘unnatural’ to women. For them, a woman’s destiny was determined by her biology. Not only were they ‘weaker’ than men, but their essential roles in life were those of bearer and rearer of children. The ramifications of any violation of these pre-ordained roles were far reaching and would disrupt the social order and discipline, so it was argued. Women were the lynchpin in marriage and the family structure and to think or behave otherwise, so the argument went, would herald the demise of the family centred culture. Women, they argued, were respected and treated equally but in their different socio-familial role. A reactionary backlash contested the necessity and relevance of ‘women’s liberation’ to Tamil women and Jaffna society. But, in my conception, these arguments were both misplaced and misrepresented and stemmed largely from the failure to clearly conceptualise what ‘women’s liberation’ meant for Tamil women. While it is true that women’s participation in the armed struggle is a radical intervention for women in Tamil society, it has to be borne in mind that military participation is not an end in itself but has wider objectives. In Jaffna society, the wider objectives of women’s involvement in the struggle were initially lost and focused on the representation of armed women. Essentially, women in uniform now symbolised the image of ‘women’s liberation’ in Jaffna. Inevitably such an image was not appealing to the wider sections of Tamil women and the public in general. Even greater controversy surfaced when LTTE women took the bold decision to cut their long black hair. Plaited and tied up long hair had been part of the image of LTTE women and a symbolic capitulation to mainstream images of Tamil women. But when LTTE women appeared in society with short-cropped hair, they caused a furore and allegations of attempts to sabotage or destroy the culture were levelled at the women fighters. But the tremendous response by the women cadres to the decision to allow them to wear their hair short, reflected an aspiration amongst women to rid themselves of this time-consuming adornment. But the decision was actually taken based on military considerations. Maintaining long plaited hair was a nuisance for the young women during training and military operations. However, not all the cadres cut their hair. Many liked their hair long and thus kept their locks. Some amongst the women cadres hung onto their hair in the name of ‘tradition’. Insofar as I was concerned, the very fact that they had a choice over the matter represented a progressive step for the women.

The women cadres were unfazed by the criticisms levelled against their participation. Single-minded in their commitment, they weathered this storm with great dignity and confidence. Many young women continued to join the struggle and the initial shock this caused to parents eventually faded as they came to terms with a reality they could no longer determine. Women joining the armed struggle became an accepted norm of Tamil society and the culture has not fallen apart as many had expected or warned.

As the military organisation of the LTTE women fighters had now expanded, it began to play a crucial role in the liberation war. This became evident in the battle at Elephant Pass, which started on 10th July 1991. Several units of women fighters took an active role in this major battle and exhibited exceptional courage and heroism. This bloody confrontation between the LTTE and the Sri Lankan armed forces lasted twenty-four days. Without conventional weapons and an adequate air defence system and fighting in unfavourable, open terrain the LTTE suffered heavy casualties and eventually made a tactical withdrawal from the battlefield. 573 Tigers were killed including 123 women fighters. Hundreds were injured. Though it was a major military debacle, the LTTE learned through this experience the necessity and importance of developing its forces into a conventional formation. But a most significant aspect of this battle was the unity between the LTTE and the people in preparation for and during this offensive. A major Sri Lankan military installation at the very throat of Jaffna was an obvious source of resentment amongst the people. The prospect that it would be overrun and the people could move freely from the peninsula to the Vanni excited and enthused the population. Support from the people of Jaffna for the LTTE’s campaign at Elephant Pass took many forms, from the simple offering of food for the fighting cadres to the supply of transport. My medical experience meant that I was ideally suited to care for the injured cadres and I offered to assist the campaign in this area. Jeyanthi and Jeya set up two medical bases four hundred yards from our house and I was to be responsible for the injured girls who would be warded there. But as I was to learn, caring for war wounds in a makeshift medical set-up is quite a different experience to routine nursing care of surgical and medical patients backed up by a massive health care infrastructure. Treating torn flesh from razor sharp shrapnel is also a contrast to the neat surgical wound of an appendicectomy. The mutilation of an eighteen-year old girl’s slim leg by the force of a fifty-calibre bullet has a different impact on one’s thinking to that of a fracture of a teenager’s leg during routine gymnastic exercises.

Apart from my professional nursing experience, the doctors in the organisation had trained all the young LTTE women medical staff. Nevertheless, with this basic nursing training and minimum medical equipment, the young women coped admirably with the complicated and devastating injuries that came their way. Dozens of young women fighters with serious injuries passed through these medical bases. Many of them cried in pain and their friends with lesser wounds comforted them. The patience of the young women attending to the demands of the injured cadres was infinite. Although not professional in their technique, the care behind the hand that dressed the injuries ensured that infection was kept at a minimum. But while the sight of devastating wounds in young people was enough to provoke reflection in anybody, it was a pleasure to care for these young ladies who were not in anyway demoralised by their experiences or their injuries. We often joked and laughed our way through their pain during treatment. “If ‘auntie’ touches your wound it will heal” was the standard comment from the injured women. To be fair, I think their rapid healing was more to do with their youth than any skill I had in attending to their wounds. Nevertheless, I was happy that they had confidence in my care for them.

The presence of LTTE women’s medical bases in Chundukili was common knowledge amongst the public. Subsequently, the thought of young ‘daughters of the soil’ lying in bed with injuries received from the battlefield invoked great sympathy from the Jaffna populace and they responded wholeheartedly, demonstrating their concern and solidarity with the women fighters by bringing bedding, young coconuts, cooked food and so on to the medical bases. The Sri Lankan military personnel were also tipped off about the existence of these temporary medical bases in Chundukili. And so, when at around mid morning one day, the Sri Lankan Air Force launched a bombing raid on the bases, I was furious. I had just left the site when the raid took place. I had been to see if any particular problems required attending to. Not more than five minutes after I had left the base and arrived home, an enormous explosion sent me sprawling on the floor. I immediately thought our house had been bombed. I jumped up and fled to the bunker and just as I fell through the doorway, another explosion shook the area. Shock waves brushed my face and burning shrapnel came flying through the bunker door. A short time after the blast our bodyguards came running to tell me the supersonic jets had disappeared and it was safe to come out of the bunker. We were all a little shaken by this close shave and were wondering where the bombs had fallen. It was then I learned that the women’s medical bases had been hit. I rushed to the spot fearing what the extent of the casualties among the injured women might be. Miraculously, apart from a few scratches, none had been injured or killed. They heard the jet circling Jaffna town and rushed to the bunker for cover and were thus able to avoid casualties. But, tragically, one passing civilian woman had her head blown off and died on the spot. Regular bombardment by supersonic jets in the vicinity of our house after the LTTE’s offensive at Elephant Pass led to apprehension that our residence could be targeted. We moved from Chundukili to Kokkuvil where our house was more difficult to spot from the air. We resided there during our remaining years in Jaffna.

The LTTE Administration in Jaffna

The people of Jaffna adapted their lives to the conditions of war and settled down to their normal routine. In the meantime, the LTTE was expanding its military and political wings and other structures of civil administration. The Tigers allowed several of the government institutions to function, except law and order. The state administrative structure the Kachcheri system the departments of education, health, transport, agriculture etc - continued to function as usual with Government funds. The LTTE created a ‘shadow’ administration to monitor and supervise the functions of the central institutions. The Tigers also assimilated civilians with experience and expertise to run their shadow structures. A finance section was established under Mr. Tamilenthi, assisted by qualified civilian accountants. An effective taxation system was introduced. Taxes were levied from the class of merchants and middle businessmen. An Institute of Economic Research and Development that originated before the arrival of the IPKF, was expanded to promote the economic well being of the Tamil people. Finally, a police force and later judicial systems were established to maintain law and order. In other words, the LTTE created an effective de facto state with its headquarters in Jaffna and its branches of administration in all territories under its control in the Northeast. While Mr. Pirabakaran consolidated his administrative control over the North, Mr. Premadasa unleashed his armed forces in the East. The Sri Lankan troops overran the LTTE’s positions in the cities and towns in the Eastern coastal region and pushed the Tiger guerrillas back into jungle hideouts.

Nevertheless, since our arrival in Jaffna, the People’s Front of Liberation Tigers (PFLT), the political organisation of the LTTE, continued to function with its central office at Kondavil, Jaffna. PFLT branches were opened all over the Peninsula. Apart from law and order and finance, the PFLT controlled all the civil administrative structures. The incorporation of civilians into the PFLT and in the administrative services enhanced the LTTE’s image as an organisation of the people. But as time went on, the LTTE’s administration in Jaffna came under criticism. The imposition of a pass system to arrest the tide of Tamil youth travelling to Colombo enroute to western countries seeking asylum was an extremely controversial issue. The objective of the LTTE behind the pass system was to stem the exodus of people out of the country preventing a breakdown of the fabric of society. But of course, the LTTE’s policy came into conflict with the aspirations of parents who wanted their children to escape from the conditions of war and to seek greener pastures abroad. Another issue that caused controversy and criticism was the ban imposed on Tamil films. The LTTE leadership felt that most Tamil films were a shallow caricature of real life and polluted the consciousness of the people. The people thought otherwise. Many people rightly in my view - were of the opinion that they should not only have the right to choose, but that they were capable of exercising self- censorship in their choice of films. An important consideration also in the controversy surrounding this issue, was the lack of entertainment available to the people. It is only when one is deprived of entertainment facilities does one understand the importance it plays in the wellbeing of human life. The people craved for some form of entertainment in a turbulent life permeated by war and violence. Many civilians visited us and poured out their frustrations. On several issues, we shared their views. But life in Jaffna went on, despite the criticisms. Most people tolerated and forgave the inadequacies of the LTTE administration arguing that they were their children, as well as their freedom fighters. The people sympathetically understood the extreme difficulties faced by the Tigers in waging an all-out war against a modern state and simultaneously running an administration in the controlled territories. Remarkably, with the establishment of a police administration and judicial system, there was a substantial fall in the crime rate in Jaffna. In a radical move, the Tamil Eelam police recruited and trained women police officers with a view to encouraging and opening up greater participation of women in the LTTE administration. With women police officers in the Force, it was argued, women would be encouraged to report persecution and crime perpetrated against them and justice would be administered. Women felt a greater sense of security with women cadres and women police officers on the streets armed with the authority to arrest and punish criminal activity. A notable and admirable facet of the LTTE’s administration was the freedom from fear women experienced when travelling alone, particularly late at night.

The LTTE also, with its limited resources, promoted education. Without interfering with the state education system, an education organisation was set up under Baby Subramaniam (Illam Kumaran) to assist and advance the existing system by introducing into the curriculum new text books on Tamil language, culture and history. The textbooks produced by the Sri Lankan Education Department projected a distorted account of Tamil history and civilisation. Taking this fact into consideration, the LTTE’s education organisation published texts highlighting the depth and beauty of the language as well as the authentic history of the Eelam Tamils. The LTTE’s enlightened policy on education was well tuned to the sensibilities of the Tamil people’s passion for learning and was welcomed by Jaffna society.

Women Fighters

In the meantime, armed confrontations between the Liberation Tigers and the Sri Lankan forces erupted on various fronts and the participation of the women fighters became integral to the war of liberation. The Battle of Elephant Pass, in which women fighters played a crucial role, was followed by a defensive battle in Manal Aru, otherwise known as ‘Operation Lightning’ (Minal). Units of women fighters who ‘manned’ the LTTE defence bunkers in the periphery of the Pallaly Air base launched daring operations on the mini-camps of the Sri Lankan army. And as this history of the women’s military participation deepened and stories of heroism became known to me, I felt a desire to record, for posterity, some of the astounding situations and experiences these young women had confronted. Time and events were passing by at a rapid pace and if history were not recorded immediately it risked being censored by fading memories, and facts muddled by ever evolving situations. Hence, I decided to write a book to document the history of the women’s military wing of the LTTE. Jeyanthi, the women’s military wing leader, co-operated fully in this enterprise and willingly made available for interview as many as possible of the women fighters who had participated in the various battles. The women commanders came to our house to discuss the history. I travelled to their camps and conducted interviews. But whereas the book contains extracts from interviews with particular individuals, it was quite an emotional and touching experience to hear and watch them tell their stories in person. Many of them lowered their voices in respect when they referred to the name of one of their martyred friends or colleagues. Some of them became elated when rendering an act of heroism. One or two women found it easier to act out a replay of a difficult situation. Occasionally a women fighter twisted her fingers when she had difficulty in putting a particular experience into words. Many women used the word ‘frightened’, but none used the word ‘flee’. All of them straightened their shoulders when commenting on victory in the battlefield. Some groups of women fighters narrated how they ran gauntlets of falling bombs to reach frontline fighters and provided them with urgently needed ammunition. Other girls stressed the importance of providing regular meals to the fighters even at the cost of their own hunger and thirst. Legends abounded of medical teams risking their lives to attend to and carry injured cadres from the battlefield. Some of the women fighters were proud of their success in fighting their way out of round ups by contingents of Sri Lankan troops. Stories were told of their friends’ premonitions of death that ultimately came true. And as I talked to these young women and they revealed extraordinary and unique incidents and events it was impossible not to feel in awe and honoured in their presence. And so, after being allowed into their lives and having shared their stories with them I was able to comprehend the totality of their experiences, their level of commitment and the depth of their sacrifice. Hence, it is extremely disturbing to read criticisms of LTTE women from people who have absolutely no idea of the subject they are writing about.

Women Fighters of Liberation Tigers was published in Jaffna on 1st January 1993. Later the LTTE International Secretariat published it in London and Paris simultaneously. The work provides a historical sketch of the birth and development of the women’s military organisation of the Liberation Tigers. It documents, in some detail, the engagement of the women fighters in various actions in the liberation war. Beginning with the initial induction in the first battle in Mannar in October 1986 and ending with the major assault on the large military complex at Pallaly on 23rd November 1992 the work records a six-year history of the armed struggle of the women fighters of LTTE. In unveiling this history, I have attempted to portray the systematic growth and development of the women’s fighting force and its multiple experiences from jungle guerrilla warfare to a more advanced semi-conventional mobile warfare. I have also sketched the significant role played by the women fighters in engaging a formidable military machine - the Indian army in urban and jungle guerrilla warfare that transformed them into an effective fighting force. A chapter of the book deals with recruitment and training of women cadres. The rigorous training provided by the LTTE, I argued, transformed the women cadres into well-disciplined, armed combatants capable of confronting the most difficult and dangerous combat situations.

Historically, the women of Tamil Eelam have been politically conscious and participated actively in the Tamil national struggle for self-determination. They were the active forces in the non-violent political struggles of the sixties and seventies. The women’s participation in the armed struggle, I argued in the book, was an extension of their participation in the national struggle for liberation. Furthermore, I explained that the objective and subjective conditions that led to the involvement of women in the armed resistance movement ‘have been shaped by specific historical processes of state oppression’. ² As the integral part of the national formation and as the direct victims of state oppression, Tamil women volunteered to join the resistance movement since it was a struggle of a people, I argued.

² Adele Ann. ‘Women Fighters of Liberation Tigers’ 1993. Thasan Press 1993. Chapter One Historical Background’ Page 1.

A Reply to the Critics

In the Introduction of the book I have clearly stated that the work was not intended as a theoretical document on feminism. “It is beyond the scope of this text to provide a thorough exposition of the many feminist issues that women in combat confront. Nevertheless a few feminist problems are briefly touched throughout the text,” I commented. ³

³ Ibid. Page iv.

Since there is very little written in English about women in the armed struggle of the LTTE my book, in 1993, subsequently became the punch bag for feminist critique of the LTTE women. Undoubtedly there is always a space for criticism in politics. Yet there are two aspects of criticism: negative and positive. Some critics are constructive. They are objective and balanced in their analysis. Such constructive criticisms are useful and have to be welcomed for their positive value since they attempt to reveal the truth of the phenomenon under investigation without bias or prejudice. On the other hand, negative criticism is essentially destructive; it is a negation of objective analysis. They are often erroneous, and have nothing to contribute towards the understanding of the objective reality under investigation. Spearheading the negative assault on Tamil women in armed struggle are some human rights activists and feminists. Either by design, or misfortune, they often constitute the intellectual hub of repressive state machinery whose major concern is to undermine the legitimacy of the Tamil armed resistance as a mode of political struggle. Criticising Tamil women’s participation in the armed struggle is the venue through which they are able to launch a wider attack on the Tamil political struggle in general. Thus, these criticisms also aim to deny women, as an integral part of the oppressed, their right to defend themselves against the threat to their survival.

There are also feminist writers who have written extensive criticisms of LTTE women fighters without adequate knowledge and understanding of the specific historical conditions that led to the participation of Tamil women in armed resistance. Some of them are Sinhalese feminists whose views are prejudiced and trapped in the chauvinistic discourse of the Sinhala establishment. There are also Tamil feminist critics who were born and bred in Colombo and studied abroad and have little or no knowledge of the concrete conditions of repression or resistance in the Tamil homeland. Though learned intellectuals the get their ‘data’ from the distorted literature produced by the Colombo media. These are messianic visionaries who claim to have transcended their Tamil cultural identity for the highest ideals of multi-cultural universe and look upon the Tamil struggle as merely a perverted manifestation of narrow nationalism. One such critic is Radhika Coomaraswamy. In a highly controversial article entitled LTTE Women - Is This Liberation’ published in a Colombo weekly ⁴ Ms. Coomaraswamy created a stir among social and political thinkers in Sri Lanka. The controversy stems from her gross misrepresentation of Tamil women in armed struggle. Important also was her general condemnation of the armed struggle as a mode of political struggle. But in her exposition of the LTTE women she raises several feminist issues. To my astonishment she has completely ignored the basic issue: the nature of state terror and oppression, that assumed genocidal proportions, destroying 70,000 Tamil civilians. Surprisingly, she did not touch on the history of the Tamil struggle, particularly the non-violent struggle that lasted more than two decades and finally succumbed to the violence of the state. Producing an ahistorical thesis, suppressing fifty years of resistance to state violence, Ms. Coomaraswamy nevertheless declares she is against violence’, denouncing the LTTE women fighters as ‘perpetrators of violence’. From a close reading of her article I assumed that she has extremely limited knowledge of the Liberation Tigers, their aims, objectives and ideology. Furthermore, her portrayal of the women Tigers was predicated on false assumptions, most of which seem to be her own projections and conjectures.

⁴ Coomaraswamy, Radhika. LTTE Women Is This Liberation The Sunday Times January 5th 1997.

To begin with, I appreciate Ms. Coomaraswamy’s commitment to human rights, non-violence and generally the welfare of humanity. She does indeed stand for and articulate many of the cardinal values current in international humanist politics. I do not find myself in disagreement with Ms. Coomaraswamy or indeed the world at large in recognising and accepting the principles of human rights enshrined in universal convenants of the United Nations. The privileging of fundamental rights and freedoms as central to humanity will continue to figure as larger issues in global politics. Nor do I have any difficulty in appreciating and respecting non-violence. These noble ideals are fundamental to human dignity, social development and civilised living. I also share with her a hope for humanity, wonder at creativity, stand in awe of the achievements of humanity over the ages, and marvel at the beautiful and fabulous diversity of life. Nevertheless, despite the projection of ideals that enhance humanistic tendencies, we can neither escape from nor ignore the vast sections of humanity, which live under the crushing weight of social injustice and oppression. The structures of oppression are multitudinous. People are oppressed by caste; women are subjected to discrimination and violence because of their gender; small nations are crushed by larger ones; ethnicity singles out peoples for mass murder; religious differences, racial differences, differences in the colour of skin leads to various forms of abuses and conflict. And so it goes on, an endless procession of different manifestations of injustice. The fact is that an oppressed humanity exists along with their trials, tribulations and struggles. There are sections of humanity who face extreme forms of repression and gross violations of human rights amounting to genocide. And for some of these people the acceptable norms of conflict resolution i.e. dialogue, consultation and negotiated settlement have failed to bring respite. Instead, the oppression continues, becomes entrenched and defies a rational settlement. And in these rather tragic circumstances, having exhausted all forms of democratic, non-violent modes of agitation, the persecuted choose to confront the genodical violence of the oppressor by violent means, as the ultimate option in exercising the legitimate right to self-defence. One can argue that when all non-violent modes of struggle are exhausted and when persecution deepens to an intolerable magnitude threatening the very existence of a particular national formation of a people, the violence of the oppressed becomes qualitatively different from the violence of the oppressor. In this case, the violence of the oppressed becomes the legitimate weapon of selfdefence for the preservation of the life of the community as a whole. This is the case with the Tamil people in Sri Lanka. Despite the inadequacies of the political arrangements the British left behind when they handed back sovereignty to the people of the island, the onus of responsibility for governance was invested with the politicians who formed the government. One is left to speculate what the situation would be today had such concepts as multi-culturalism, multi-racism, pluralism etc prevailed as the ideal type of polity at that uniquely historical time in the island. One can only presume that today’s cataclysmic events would never have emerged. Tragically, racism and the ultra-nationalist sentiments prevailed instead amongst the Sinhalese and their political representatives. As opposed to building a democratic, pluralist society under a modern progressive state, the Sinhala political leaders stooped to the baseness of whipping up racial and religious fanaticism. The post-independence Sri Lankan state abrogated is responsibilities for the wellbeing of all its citizens and became an embodiment of institutionalised racism. Over the past fifty years the state has been blatantly and unashamedly implementing undemocratic and unjust policies which, in effect, have seriously disrupted the homogenous existence of its historical neighbours in the North and East the Tamils.

A Struggle against Genocide

I need not repeat the history of injustice to which the Tamil people have been subjected. It is well documented. But the oppression is more grave and far deeper than most analysts have perceived. In my view, after twenty years of living with the Tamil people in various circumstances and witnessing the depth of their persecution, I am compelled to conclude that the Tamil people’s struggle for political rights has become a struggle against genocide. And it is against this mode of oppression that the Tamils are compelled to wage their armed struggle in defence of their right to existence. Of course I am well aware that the charge of genocide is grave; it is regarded as the most serious crime against humanity. Therefore, a question may be posed as to whether the mode of oppression perpetrated against the Tamils can be designated as genocide and on what grounds such a charge of that magnitude can be levelled against the Sri Lankan state. To answer such a question it is necessary to clarify the meaning of the term genocide and explain the conditions that give rise to that phenomenon in the Sri Lankan context.

Genocide has not been explicitly defined. There is no clear, universally accepted definition or a general theory of genocide. The definition provided by the Genocide Convention of 1995, which is regarded as a pre-emptory norm of international law, is limited and narrow in its focus. Genocide is limited to acts ‘committed with intent to destroy, in whole or part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group’. Based on certain historical experiences of mankind, genocide is generally understood as a deliberate act of exterminating a group of people (designated as a nation, race and ethnic formation) through mass murder as has happened to the Jewish people in German concentration camps. On that basis the U.N. Convention defines genocide emphasising the aspect of physical extermination of people. Though the huge loss of Tamil lives resulting from racist violence, military offensive operations and ‘disappearances’ fits into this definition, we find such a definition inadequate and too limited to explain the most subtle and sophisticated forms of genocide which aims to destroy, over a period of time, the racial, ethnic or national identity of a people by systematically destroying their political, social, cultural and economic structures. It is well known that some international Governments which participated in the Genocide Convention, to cover up their own actions, did not favour a wider framework of definition. The famous international jurist Raphael Lemkin, who originally coined the word genocide, provides a wider definition of genocide in the following terms in his famous work ‘Axis Rule in Occupied Europe’.

“Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is intended rather to signify a co-ordinate plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups. Genocide is directed against the national groups as an entity, and the actions involved are directed against individuals, not in their individual capacity, but as members of the national groups”. ⁵

⁵ Lemkin, Raphael. Chapter IX ‘Genocide’ in ‘Axis Rule in Occupied Europe: Laws of Occupation’. Washington, D.C. Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1944. Page 79.

Based on aspects of the above definition, we can argue that the mode of oppression practised against the Tamil people by the Sinhala state is none other than genocide. This genocidal oppression, which spans a period of fifty years, is based on a calculated strategy implemented by successive Sri Lankan governments with a deliberate intention of destroying the essential foundations of the Tamil nation i.e. the land, the language, culture, economic, social and political life. The ultimate objective is to destroy the national or ethnic identity of the Tamil people.

Genocidal programmes are the ultimate manifestation and expression of inhumanity. Genocide wallows in the terror it inflicts, tramples on human lives; it is dismissive of familial social bonds, disrespectful to age and gender also. Women too are part of the targeted collective and become victims of this horrendous crime. Indeed women are often singled out as mediums through whom acts of genocidal intent can be perpetrated. The widespread rape of women during racial riots or during military occupation is an example. At the individual level, rape is experienced by the woman as a despicable and gross violation of her person and an act of mental and physical torture perpetrated against her. But at the collective level, rape aims to violate and humiliate the norms of society. The violation of women outrages the dignity and deeply offends the national sentiments and feelings of a nation. While women may be used as mediums to humiliate the feelings of a nation of people, the overall objective is the genocide of a people. In such circumstances, and to the dismay of Ms. Coomaraswamy and her school of thought, women cannot be denied their right to self-defence of themselves and their people. To deny an oppressed people their right to self-defence is to ask that people to commit mass suicide. So, for Ms. Coomaraswamy to posit the LTTE women in the armed struggle as ‘perpetrators of violence’ who ring the ‘death knell for femininity’, as contributors to the ‘militarisation of civil society’ who commit ‘human rights’ violations, is to pitch the argument in the wrong direction. The participation of women in the armed struggle has to be viewed as an extension of their participation in the national resistance campaign. Women have participated in all non-violent campaigns and it is therefore obvious that when the mode of struggle undergoes transformation, women’s participation would be part of that new trend. If non-violent struggle has already failed it would be absurd for women to continue to pursue such a meaningless exercise. Worse still, such a mode could be counterproductive. Ms. Coomaraswamy has missed the point. It is the state oppression of the Tamil people that has driven women to participate in the armed struggle.

There seems to be, in Ms. Coomaraswamy’s article, a general misconception centring on women in armed struggle. Her article conveys the idea of armed struggle and the extension of arms to women as a form of military take-over. It is conceived as a deliberate, irreversible process aimed ultimately at the displacement of democratic values, the due process of law, dialogue and negotiated settlements to resolve conflicts. This ‘militarisation’ of civil society which Ms. Coomaraswamy observes taking place amongst the Tamil people, is not an end in itself but rather marks a definitive stage in the evolutionary history of the Tamil struggle where the masses of people, including the young, elderly and women, register their ultimate political voice through an open insurrectionary revolt against an otherwise callous and deaf body polity intent on destroying the Tamil people. It was the objective conditions of genocide and the urgency to resist and defend against the forces of destruction, that the Tamil populous, including women, voluntarily entered the process of armed struggle. Therefore, the phenomenon of ‘militarisation’ as conceived by Ms. Coomaraswamy is not a deliberate exploitative ploy by the LTTE to enhance its troop levels for the war, but rather a historical necessity produced by the extreme conditions of civil war. Indeed, I would argue that Ms. Coomaraswamy’s concern about the ‘militarisation’ of civil society and the violation of human rights would be best directed against the Sinhala women joining the state military forces by which action they are ultimately opting into the oppressive apparatus of the state and unnecessarily falling in line with a male prioritised institution, strengthening the hand of Sinhala nationalists and contributing to the perpetuation of a brutal war. Sinhala feminists have failed to persuade their sisters that while they have the right to choose to join the military forces, there is no real urgency to do so. The nation, for them, would be best served by projecting their ‘feminine’ qualities in peaceful struggle for a radical, fair and just solution to the ethnic conflict. For Sinhala women living in a ‘democratic’ political system, governed by their own people, under a constitution which preserves and protects their language, religion and culture, where they are not discriminated or subjected to racial violence, or threatened with genocide, they are not required to join the military forces.

Women and National Struggle

Ms. Coomaraswamy, being a United Nations official, should be mindful of the preponderance of national conflicts in contemporary world politics. The occurrence of gross human rights violations amounting to genocide in several ethnic conflict situations in the world has become serious concern to the international community. In some cases, for example, Kosovo and East Timor, the international community was compelled to intervene and establish peace through force or rather through military violence. The international community is fully aware that Sri Lanka’s ethnic war continues to be the most violent conflict in Asia and that the Tamil nation has been fighting against the oppression of the Sinhala-Buddhist state. That the Tamils of the Northeast constitute a nation of people and that their struggle is thus a national struggle is an indisputable historical political reality. Tamil women, who constitute half the population of the Tamil nation, are inextricably embedded in this national struggle. The women who have joined the Tamil liberation army as well as the majority of the women who participate in the civilian mass protests, constitute the backbone of the Tamil national struggle. A historically developed, fully matured national struggle transcends gender differences and the spirit of nationalism - or rather the national consciousness - binds the people into an integrated, united force committed to a singular project of freedom.

Ms. Coomaraswamy denounces nationalist struggles arguing that the nationalist movements exploit women to fulfil their nationalist aspirations. For her, nationalism and nationalist struggles belong to the realm of reactionary politics. As opposed to nationalism, she counterposes internationalism or rather the universalism of women’s movements glorifying ‘international ideals of women’s solidarity across cultures, against war and for peace’. Ms. Coomaraswamy, though a United Nations Rapporteur on Violence Against Women’ lives in a different ideological universe divorced from the crude realities of the conflict in which her own people are entrenched. I am in little doubt that the women of Tamil Eelam would be extremely annoyed and take issue with anyone who preaches to them about the international ideals of global solidarity, of transcultural unity, of humanism and non-violence when they are forced to live in military occupied zones, in refugee camps faced with the constant threat of death, of military violence and of rape. It is easy to philosophise and preach universal values from ivory towers in Geneva and New York. But these sermons have no meaning to those women who are condemned to face terror everyday of their lives.

The induction of women into the fighting force, Ms. Coomaraswamy argues, has resulted in a major transformation with regard to the ‘symbolic representation of women in Tamil society’. Referring to anthropologists for the source of her argument, she posits the ‘privileged woman’ in Tamil Hindu society as the ‘auspicious married woman with many children and material wealth’. This ideal woman is symbolically represented by ‘wearing of rich saris, brilliant jewellery, silver toe-ring and a red pottu on her forehead’. ⁶ Having portrayed the very affluent, high caste Hindu married woman with her lavish adornments and many children as the ideal Tamil woman, Ms. Coomaraswamy counter poses the LTTE woman as the negation of the ideal traditional Tamil woman. Criticising the Tiger women in combat fatigues, ‘without make-up, jewellery or ostentation’ and short hair, she injects the concept of androgyny to project the female Tigers as masculine devoid of any traditional Tamil characteristics of the feminine. This is a gross misrepresentation and extremely limited understanding of LTTE women, which, we can only assume, is primarily aimed at undermining their image and participation in the struggle. Firstly, Ms. Coomaraswamy should realise that the LTTE women fighters are combatants belonging to various contingents of a professional liberation army, which is at constant war with the Sri Lankan state. As combatants constantly engaged in battles, the LTTE women cadres are compelled to adopt their mode of appearance to the conditions of war. It would be absurd to conceive of LTTE women fighters in rich saris, brilliant jewellery, flowers in their flowing hair involved in battles in the trenches. Ms. Coomaraswamy would have seen, at least in books, how similarly the women fighters in various national liberation struggles wear combat fatigues, boots, with no make up, jewellery or long flowing hair. Can she attribute androgyny to all those brave young women who fought for the freedom of their nations relinquishing ostentation during the years of war? Furthermore, it is a total misconception on the part of Ms. Coomaraswamy to advance a thesis that the LTTE projects androgyny as an ideal for women. Nor do the Tigers glorify the so-called ‘armed virgins’, a concept Ms. Coomaraswamy borrows from Professor Peter Schalk. She says, ‘However, the LTTE is also clear that the ideal woman remains a virgin; sexuality is seen as an evil, debilitating force’. The source of this absurd notion remains unclear. This assumption betrays her total ignorance about the lives of the LTTE women. The LTTE leadership, for many years now, has been supporting love, marriage and the having of children among the cadres. Indeed, over the years we have attended many weddings as an outcome of love marriages. Furthermore, the LTTE has a marriage counselling board to help and support marriages. The monthly financial maintenance and residences for the married couples is drawn from the coffers of the LTTE. Subsequently, Ms. Coomaraswamy’s spurious accusations of the LTTE promoting the eradication of femininity, love and sexuality have no basis in fact.

⁶ Coomaraswamy, Radhika. LTTE Women Is This Liberation’ The Sunday Times January 5th 1997.

Drawing from feminist theorists, Ms. Coomaraswamy distinguishes between the ‘positive qualities of certain constructions of femininity i.e. nurturance, gentleness, compassion, tolerance’ as opposed to the masculine worldview of ‘authority, hierarchy and aggression’ and argues that the LTTE’s ideology does not allow for the promotion of positive feminine qualities. Positing the celebration of life as the fundamental value of universal feminism, she charges the LTTE with celebrating death as martyrdom. While I do not subscribe to the scientific basis behind formulating universal constructs of femininity and masculinity, I do sympathise with the attempts by humanist feminists who theorise such noble principles to advance the cause of global peace and harmony. But for Ms. Coomaraswamy to argue that the LTTE, particularly the LTTE women, do not subscribe to creativity, to the sacredness of life, to all positive qualities attributed to femininity, is ridiculous. This clearly shows that she writes from conjecture, rather than from facts. I think she does not have access, as most Colombo writers do not, to the substantial political, theoretical and literary work produced in Tamil by LTTE women. Ms. Coomaraswamy’s projections are based purely on the appearance of female fighters in ‘masculine’ attire. The simple fact that Tamil women participate in the armed resistance and the dead are honoured as heroes has given rise in the imaginative mind of Ms. Coomaraswamy of a plethora of negative ideas about LTTE women.

In her rather shallow and limited perspective, the armed struggle of the LTTE is reduced to a simple phenomenon of violence and those who are involved in the struggle are depicted as ‘perpetrators of violence’ and terminators of life. In this crude assessment the objective historical conditions that gave rise to the Tamil resistance movement are deliberately erased. So is the objective of the struggle. Ms. Coomaraswamy may object if I say that the LTTE cadres, both men and women, are fighting to protect their people from genocidal holocaust. In other words, they are fighting to protect life, the collective life of the Tamil nation. This is how the Tamil people view the struggle. For them the Tigers are their defenders, freedom fighters who are prepared to sacrifice their lives to save and protect the life of the community. Here one finds an extraordinary phenomenon of self-sacrifice, the renunciation of individual life for the redemption of the collective life, which is a supreme humanist ideal. It is in this context the martyrs are honoured. It is not a celebration of death as Ms. Coomaraswamy alleges, but rather an honour and respect given to a life sacrificed for the greater cause of the preservation of the lives of a people as a whole.

I have lived and worked amongst the LTTE women for several years and shared their experiences of joy and sorrow, their aspirations and hopes. I can say with certainty that there is no ideal projection of the ‘armed virgin’ in their theoretical or political ideology. Nor is there any renunciation of positive feminine qualities. Behind the appearance of every uniformed female fighter, is a tender, gentle and passionate young woman with all the qualities attributed to femininity. I lost count of the numbers of so-called ‘armed virgins’ who fell in love, married and have produced children and enjoy married life. I have seen the positive qualities of nurturance in abundance among LTTE’s married women. It is deeply disturbing to note that a well-read woman such as Ms. Coomaraswamy could demonise the LTTE women as ‘armed virgins’, as ‘perpetrators of violence’, and as negations of ideal traditional Tamil women. Her conceptualisations have no basis in truth.

Empowerment of Women

Another issue raised by Ms. Coomaraswamy centres on whether or not LTTE women are empowered or ‘disempowered’, as she likes to argue. For her, the LTTE women are ‘disempowered’, ‘cogs in the wheel of someone else’s designs and plans’, and ‘implementers of policy made by someone else, by men’. To advance such a thoroughly negative perception of the LTTE women is both sad and misleading. At the most basic level, Ms. Coomaraswamy must be aware that fundamental to the empowerment process is the recognition of structures of oppression. Women who join the LTTE have identified Sinhala racism as the basic structure of oppression to which they are subjected. Participating in a struggle to free themselves from this mode of oppression is a process of empowerment in itself. But Ms. Coomaraswamy, in her rush to demonise the LTTE women, totally ignores participation in this mode of struggle as a crucial empowering experience. Furthermore, her attack on their level of empowerment does not take into account any consideration of the conditions in which they operate. She is devoid of any empathy with the LTTE women fighters. The LTTE women are not operating with the support of a state administration with financial resources from international organisations to realise the ideas and implement the projects they have formulated. Faced with constant military offensives, repetitive displacements, constrained by financial shortages and access to resources, the LTTE women struggle to realise their social projects and empowerment activities. So one has to question the motive behind Ms. Coomaraswamy’s decision to take up the LTTE women and scrutinise the level of their empowerment and to single out the organisation as an example of inadequate representation of women at the top decision making level. To substantiate her unnecessarily derogatory and negative conceptions of LTTE women, she cites their absence from the top decision-making level of the organisation as proof. But before we examine the truth of her allegations concerning the women in decision making level, we have to point out that the imbalance in the numbers of women at top decision-making level in governments and organisations throughout the world - including the one she herself works for has constituted an issue of major concern for feminists everywhere. Furthermore, as Ms. Coomaraswamy is certainly aware, the number of women at the top levels of power does not necessarily reflect the extent and depth of the empowerment of the masses of women in society. It is precisely this concern for the empowerment of the masses of women I have, since returning to Jaffna in 1990, consistently spoken and written about. Ms. Coomaraswamy, unfamiliar with my early writings and the women fighter’s literature, took up my book Women Fighters of Liberation Tigers to misrepresent the LTTE women. Since my book deals with the historical evolution of the women’s military wing of the LTTE and does not take up central feminist concerns such as peace, non-violence, the empowerment of women, women in decisionmaking, the ‘feminine principle’, environment issues, reproductive rights of women, women in post-revolutionary societies, women and class, women and race and so on it is widely assumed that I am unaware of these serious feminist issues, or that I am not concerned about them. Based on this misconception I am portrayed as an instigator of armed struggle and militarism. This indeed, is a travesty of truth. Not only am I aware of many of these issues, but, as I intend to point out, I have written and consistently spoken about some of them on several occasions in the past. Before we move onto the issue of empowerment of LTTE women I wish to clarify, briefly, my views on women’s emancipation.

For reasons that would take me beyond the theme of this writing, I did not include major feminist issues in my book Women Fighters of Liberation Tigers. The book was largely conjunctural. Arguing that young women had broken with the past, their joining of a freedom struggle had opened up new possibilities for women and the mode of participation had challenged traditional views about women in society, was, whether feminists like it or not, a reality in Tamil social formation. And as I argued in the book and stand by the position today, women cadres themselves were not only proud of their new radicalism but were flush with a new confidence and self-esteem.

It is well known that theoretical paradigms couched national liberation struggles with women’s participation in progressive terminology. I set out my original position drawing from those theoretical positions. Adopting the socialist feminist position, I argued that a national liberation struggle includes on its political agenda a programme for social transformation involving the elimination of oppression and discrimination within the emerging nation state. Logically, such a radical programme would have to include tackling the various levels of women’s oppression for them to be located to realise their potential, to fully participate in and to shape and influence the future society they wished to live in. So women’s participation in armed struggle is for both national and social emancipation. Their participation itself constitutes a step towards their emancipation, a step towards their empowerment. When women start to struggle against oppression then we have to accept that women have begun to move towards their emancipation.

But time has moved on and we have witnessed unexpected changes of events that have rocked the world order. Political and economic systems collapsed like a pack of cards. Theories and concepts became defunct; some were dumped in the dustbin of history. Feminist critiques of socialist societies, their political problems and expressions of disappointments by women in post national liberation struggles, began to surface in political and feminist discourse. But I have never been a dreamy romantic believing that the articulation of a few progressive sentences and words in glossy political pamphlets would be sufficient to dislodge or entice men, with all the world’s power in their hands, to take the rational path and unburden themselves by relinquishing to women a share of their power and changing their life styles and thinking. It was my position nearly twenty years ago and nothing has happened to convince me to dramatically change my view that women’s emancipation is a long, ongoing process requiring constant vigilance, assessment and re-assessment of a multitude of issues if women are to effect the degrees of social change which will emancipate them and create a better world. For this, I argued, women in national liberation struggles require not only patriotism but a feminist consciousness also. In my document ‘Women and Revolution’ written in 1983, I argued, ‘Women’s participation and a feminist consciousness are crucial to national victory and social transformation. Identifying, articulating and fighting to alleviate modes and structures of women’s oppression during the course of the national struggle provides the grounds to deepen and strengthen the struggle for national victory and effecting a radical social emancipation’.

Being close to a struggle in which women are confident that will lead to their emancipation and as an observer of events, I reiterated these sentiments several times in speeches and articles. In 1991, I wrote a cautionary article, which briefly sets out the problems of women in post national liberation struggles and touches on the issue of empowerment of women. The article, the ‘Feminist Perspective’ was translated into Tamil and appeared in the Women’s Front magazine ‘Suthunthira Paravaikal’ under the heading ‘Socialism and the Oppression of Women’. The article makes no pretensions of being in anyway an exhaustive study of the complex issues of women in socialist and post revolutionary societies nor is it a rigorous exposition of the concept the ‘feminist perspective’. But that women do confront contradictions and complex socio-political problems and so as to avoid the possibility of similar situations emerging in the Tamil struggle, I concluded:

“That women must become a powerful political force capable of ensuring that women’s issues are seen as integral to the overall programme of the Party or government, to influence policy decisions and to be part of the decision-making process in economic planning, the allocation of finance and resources. Women’s issues should not be sacrificed at the altar of male orientated, male prioritised issues. This requires that the strength of a grass root women’s organisation be translated into political authority. Thus we can begin to see that the objective of women in struggle goes beyond conceptions of equality with men, participation with men etc. where men’s lives, behaviour, practices, authority become the yardstick of measurement for women. The objective of women goes beyond equalitarianism in a world defined by men. The objective of women in struggle is the emancipation of women, but the emancipation of women entails the emancipation of men also from their stereotyped images and perceptions of the world. The emancipation of women embraces a much more radical politics, which entails a new vision of the world, society and women’s place in it. To effect this new vision of the society and women’s place in it women need political power to influence national politics. The new way of perceiving the world to the betterment of women and society can be called the feminist perspective”. ⁷

⁷ ‘Suthunthira Paravaikal’ May-June 1991.

The above quotation reflects many of the concerns of international feminists. There is a recognition that women’s participation in armed struggle is not an automatic guarantee of their future emancipation; that the radicalism of breaking out of the social mould has to be consistently built on and developed if women are to be emancipated. Accepting a male defined and prioritised world will also not lead to woman’s emancipation nor does it necessarily lead to the creation of a better world. That men need to undergo serious reflection and transformation is also recognised. Crucial also, is the necessity of a grassroots women’s organisation with participation in politics at the national level.

I will now address the crucial issues of women in the decision- making level of the LTTE and their empowerment. Ms. Coomaraswamy is looking for a radical impact by LTTE women on Tamil society. Many aspects of LTTE women’s empowerment do appear to be very modest to the outside observer. But one of the very realistic aspects of the empowerment approach is to acknowledge and accept the very basic level at which action needs to take place if meaningful and enduring steps towards women’s emancipation are to be made. This reality is a product of historical social oppression and its deep, devastating implications on the entire socio-psychological construction and potential of women. Since LTTE women themselves are from that social world it is perhaps a mistake to separate LTTE women as distinct from the collective of Tamil women. Indeed, I would go so far as to assert that it is impossible to distinguish the two. If a distinction at all is to be made it is only in the fact of their membership into the ranks of an organisation and adherence to its discipline. But essentially LTTE women are daughters of the soil and any assessment of their empowerment in the movement requires us to keep that basic fact in mind. Nevertheless, Ms. Coomaraswamy advances a misleading argument when she asserts that LTTE women are ‘disempowered’ and there is an absence of LTTE women in the decision making of the organisation. Their long history of participation in the struggle has earned two senior women cadres a place in the central decision- making body of the LTTE. Apart from their contribution to general LTTE policy, they articulate the interests of women at that level. The views they represent stem from collective discussions and decisions made by the senior female leaders of the political and military structures. Indeed, across the spectrum of the LTTE, women occupy senior and responsible posts, which necessitate serious decision making with repercussions on society. For example, in the judicial system in LTTE controlled areas we find female judges and Supreme Court judges. These women make final and decisive decisions which impact on people’s lives and the society in general. Female lawyers represent complicated cases on behalf of women. In the medical section, a woman was the first doctor to join the LTTE and she has subsequently trained hundreds of male and female nurses in the organisation. Women assume enormous responsibility in the managing the finances of the LTTE. They manage their own administrative structure and finances of their sections. In the important area of media and information, women are opinion makers. An entire section of women collectively choose topics and direct their own films and news programmes. A newspaper is written, edited and produced by the women cadres. The rehabilitation organisation established to assist the displaced population employs women to take up the challenge of formulating and implementing socio-economic projects. An important example of women’s participation in decision-making is found in the administration of the LTTE controlled territory. Women have been appointed as area leaders of particular geographical areas. They are responsible for decisions affecting people in their region and all administrative sections of the LTTE and the cadreship work under their command, including the male cadres. The experience, the self- confidence and self-esteem gained by these women occupying these important political and administrative posts, must, inevitably empower the women for social activity both inside and outside the LTTE. Furthermore, Ms. Coomaraswamy is lacking in the knowledge of the women’s section dealing with specific problems of women. Thousands of women turn to this centre for assistance, advice and guidance. They seek help for innumerable social problems and medical care etc. and it is from these everyday experiences of women that the female cadres formulate new policies.

Furthermore, the number of women occupying the seats of power of the LTTE at this time might not satisfy armchair critics, there is no valid argument to assume a permanency of the situation. The large numbers of women at middle level decision making is substantial and encourages me to feel confident that many of these young women will be shifted to top level decision making positions in the future. Furthermore, in my view, the range and scope of new opportunities provided to young women cadres and the subsequent growth of confidence and self-esteem, which promotes the self- reliance of women convinces me that LTTE women are in a process of empowerment. In this process not only are women cadres becoming empowered, but they are contributing towards the empowerment of the masses of Tamil women in general. Their inroads into all areas of employment and social activity has set an example and opened up the possibility to other women of opportunities that might not have come their way for decades if left to evolve over time. In this way, LTTE women cadres have made an enormous contribution to the empowerment potential of Tamil women.

While the participation of women in the freedom struggle has continued to deepen the politics in Tamil Eelam, the political organisation of the LTTE the PFLT - was to be dealt a fatal blow when its leader became involved in a treacherous bid for power. A crisis in the politics of the PFLT exploded in Jaffna.

The PFLT and Mathaya

It was around 10p.m on a hot day in March 1993, when Mr. Mahendrarajah (Mathaya), the Deputy Head of the LTTE, entered our residence at Kokkuvil, Jaffna and announced he was going to observe a fast-unto-death in our house and demanded a room for that purpose.

Mathaya looked nervous and agitated. Dressed casually in a ‘sarong’ and shirt and carrying a small luggage bag with a few personal items, he claimed that his fast had begun the very moment he entered our house. His grim looking and armed bodyguards were waiting in front of our house and his four-wheel drive Pajero vehicle was parked near the gate. Taken aback by this sudden development, Bala and I queried as to why he wanted to fast-unto-death and for what reason he had chosen our residence as the venue to launch his campaign.

Mathaya explained that he was disillusioned with the LTTE leadership, particularly with Mr. Pirabakaran, for removing him from the Chairmanship of the political party (PFLT) and also from the deputy leadership of the LTTE. He said that the decision was unfair and unacceptable and therefore he wanted to register his protest in the form of fasting. Insofar as his choice of residence as the venue of fasting was concerned, he explained that it was the place where all leaders and commanders of the LTTE, as well as the local journalists visit, and therefore his protest would be known to the entire movement as well as the public if it was performed in our house.

Bala and I were well aware of the background to the story of Mathaya’s downfall. The primary reason was his utter mismanagement of the party and the effect on the movement’s support base. Mathaya, in his role as the leader of the party and the deputy leader of the LTTE, assumed an autocratic style and appointed his henchmen to the seats of power in the political organisation in violation of the party constitution. The constitution stipulated an electoral system for the selection of party officials from village to district levels. Mathaya’s action undermined the project of democratisation of the party organs and failed to reflect the will of the people. Eventually the PFLT became a corrupt institution promoting the interests of a few individuals who were loyal to Mathaya. The public resentment was so widespread, it compelled the LTTE to dissolve the party organisation or risk further alienation. Mathaya lost his positions as the party leader as well as the deputy leader of the LTTE as a result. Though the LTTE Central Committee and the General Council made the decision after lengthy discussions, Mathaya felt that the move to oust him was an act of personal vendetta by Mr. Pirabakaran and he was determined to challenge the decision.

For several hours through the night, we pleaded with Mathaya to give up his fast and resolve the matter through discussion with the leadership rather than undertaking this mode of protest. We also felt unhappy over the choice of our residence as the venue for his fasting. That would implicate us as accessories to Mathaya’s scheme of things, in our view. Finally Mathaya relented when we argued that he had the right to protest but not in our residence. He decided to give up his fast when Bala promised to hand over his letter of protest to Mr. Pirabakaran. Thus, the drama ended in the following morning and Mathaya left our house with his bodyguards and an element of satisfaction that he had registered his protest with the Balasinghams by observing a night of fasting. This incident was the tip of the iceberg insofar as Mathaya’s affair was concerned, as we later learned.

About a month later, Mathaya and some of his close associates were arrested by the LTTE’s intelligence wing for conspiring to assassinate Mr. Pirabakaran. In a massive cordon and search of his camp in Manipay - supervised by senior commanders of the LTTE - Mathaya was taken into custody along with his friends. We were shocked and surprised by this sudden turn of events. Mr. Pirabakaran, who visited our residence that day, told us briefly of a plot hatched by the Indian external intelligence agency - the RAW- involving Mathaya as the chief conspirator to assassinate him and to take-over the leadership of the LTTE. He also said that further investigations were needed to unravel the full scope of the conspiracy.

The investigation took several months to complete. Mathaya, his close associates involved in the conspiracy, and several other cadres who functioned directly under him, were thoroughly investigated. Finally, the complete story of a plot emerged. Confessions by all the main actors were tape-recorded and video filmed. The leadership also arranged a series of meetings for all the LTTE cadres to explain the aims and objectives behind the plot. Apart from Mathaya, other senior cadres who were involved in the conspiracy were allowed to make public confessions during those meetings confirming their involvement. It was a complicated and bizarre story of the Indian intelligence agency establishing secret contacts with Mathaya through his close associates, with the promise of huge funds and political backing from India if the plot succeeded and the LTTE leadership was eliminated. A former bodyguard of Mr. Pirabakaran was secretly released from an Indian jail in Tamil Nadu and trained as the main assassin. He was sent to Jaffna with an intriguing story of a successful jailbreak as cover. His assignment was to plant a time bomb in Pirabakaran’s bedroom as a part of an overall plot planned by Mathaya. This young man, as soon as he landed in Jaffna, was once again included amongst Mr. Pirabakaran’s bodyguards. Surprisingly, just a few days before his arrest, he visited our residence to tell us fabulous stories about his jail break. The investigation established, without doubt, that Mathaya was the chief conspirator. The plot was to assassinate Mr. Pirabakaran and some senior commanders loyal to him and assume the leadership of the organisation. On 28th December 1994, Mathaya and a few of his fellow conspirators were executed on charges of conspiracy to eliminate the leadership.

Following the dissolution of the now discredited PFLT and the indictment of Mathaya, the political wing of the LTTE was restructured and Mr.Tamil Chelvan, who had been functioning as the military commander of the Jaffna peninsula, was appointed as the head of the section.

The Dowry Controversy

Dowrying women at the time of marriage is an institutionalised and intractable customary practice amongst the Jaffna Tamils. The practice is encoded in the Thesawalamai Laws, the customary property laws of the Jaffna people. In these extraordinary and interesting property laws, we find a matrilineal - alongside a patrilineal set of property regulations. The origins of the matrilineal property system have a history extending beyond three hundred years of recorded Thesawalamai codes. The origins of the practice are contested, but it has been argued that the dowry system, as it is practised amongst the Jaffna Tamils, derives its origins from the Dravidian Tamils who migrated to Jaffna from Southwest India, perhaps as long as ten centuries ago. The Malabars, as colonial rulers called these people, were originally Dravidian Tamils from Kerala who had a property system embodied in their customary law called ‘Marumakkal Thayam’. The colonial rulers modified the laws but the essence of the practice of dowrying women has not fundamentally changed over the centuries. The practice has both its supporters and detractors. Known as ‘chidenam’ amongst the Tamil community, dowrying women remains, to this day, a determining factor in people’s lives. More specifically it has a devastating impact on the lives of women. It is on this crucial issue, a woman’s social status and her future socio-economic life will be determined.

This customary practice of the Jaffna Tamils came to my attention when we were living in London. The majority of the young Tamil men known to us, were, in some way or another, deeply involved in a process of acquiring and saving dowry money for their sisters living in Jaffna. Complaints and disapproval of the practice flowed easily from the tongues of young Tamil men as they slogged for long hours at work to earn a substantial dowry for their sisters. For one reason or another, most of our London Tamil friends disagreed with the practice. All cursed the practice for reducing their sisters to commodities in the dowry market. Nevertheless, it was quite extraordinary to observe a reversal in attitude to the practice when it came their turn to marry. Very few young men rejected the dowry offered to them and many legitimised their receipt of the property at the time of their own marriage. For me, in the late 70s and early 80s, the idea of women having to literally ‘buy’ a husband didn’t agree with my burning feminist notions and I suspected that such a demeaning practice would be met with fierce opposition from Tamil women. But, as I later learned, the dowry system was far more complex than I realised and it could not be reduced to the simple practice of handing over of an agreed sum of money and property to the bridegroom and his family at the time of marriage of a woman.

The more deeply I related to the Tamil community, the more apparent it became that the practice of dowry was a pivotal factor in many socio-economic problems in the Tamil community with potentially devastating effects on the lives and dignity of women. Mr. Pirabakaran and the cadres we met in India in the late 70s early 80s opposed the practice and were adamant that the abolition of dowry would occupy a foremost project in the LTTE political programme. The young women cadres lamented the fact that they should be subjected to such a demeaning practice and fiercely argued in favour of its abolition. Immersed in this anti-dowry environment, I assumed that there would be opposition to the practice amongst the Tamil community in Jaffna. But, to my surprise, when we went to live in Jaffna, I could not discover collective opposition to the dowrying of women. Rather, I found a variety of opinions on the subject, many in support of the practice. Support for the practice perplexed me, particularly when it came from articulate Tamil women. Fleeting remarks from property owning women indicated that ‘chidenam’ (dowry) was women’s hereditary property and it would be dangerous to deprive women of this right by abolishing the dowry system. Many parents argued that it was their parental right to devolve their family property or gift to their daughters in the form of jewellery, land, money or a house at the time of her marriage and no law could deprive them of that right and expression of love. Vast sections of people argued that it would be impossible to arrange a marriage for their daughters without a dowry. Some women argued that ‘chidenam’ was their hereditary property and it was unfair to legislate against that right. A very serious view was advanced by people who were opposed to the dowry practice but were of the opinion that it would require more than a law to root out such a deeply entrenched customary practice. For them, a fundamental change in social attitude amongst the people was crucial if the practice was to be rid of. These views were not lost on me and I realised the issue could turn out to be the opening of a Pandora’s box in the Tamil community.

By 1993, dowry demands from bridegrooms and their families escalated outrageously, adversely affecting families and making the lives of many women miserable. The dowry problem had become a heated and controversial social issue. The injustice of the practice compelled many women to demand from LTTE women cadres the implementation of their 1992 International Women’s Day pledge to abolish the dowry practice. This demand was taken to Mr. Pirabakaran who decided to act on the matter. However, in view of the far reaching consequences for the society and the diverse arguments and sentiments surrounding the issue, Bala and I were sceptical that enacting a law was a solution to bringing an end to the practice. I, in particular, wanted to have much more accurate information and knowledge on the issue. If the LTTE were to effect such a radical change to such a deeply entrenched practice, we believed the people’s support was crucial to success. Without the support of the people behind the proposed changes, in our view, loopholes would be found around the system or the practice would go underground and demands would skyrocket. Subsequently, we advanced the idea of researching public opinion and opening up public debate on the issue. LTTE cadres, both men and women, were deployed to the villages and schools, university, offices etc for meetings to engage in debate and discussion with as wide a section of the people as possible. In this way, the LTTE men and women cadres could advance their opposition to the practice and at the same time hear from the people their concerns and canvass the people’s views on the solution to the problem. In the meantime, Bala opened up the debate in the local press by writing an article in an assumed name, advancing one perspective of public opinion. There was no public response to the article. Keen to ignite public debate and discussion on the practice he wrote another article from a different viewpoint under another assumed name. He wrote several articles using various names but failed to receive the feedback to justify continuing the media debate and the issue fizzled out. A sociological research questionnaire was formulated in a bid to discover more accurate knowledge about the social dynamics of the practice and women cadres were despatched to research the Northern province. Once this information had been collated, solutions could then be worked out. New laws to ban the practice of dowry would then be formulated and presented to the people for debate and amendment before it became statutory.

In the meantime, I decided to research the practice to discover and clarify the roots and mechanisms of ‘chidenam’ in Jaffna society. I was fortunate to have access to out of print classical sociological texts and law books written in English by Jaffna scholars who had explored the subject and documented the many legal cases. I spent many hours everyday at the Jaffna University Library searching into old newspapers and sociological magazines for articles on the topic. But when my research took me to the laws and history of the practice of ‘chidenham’ in Tamil society I was amazed and also became anxious. I was fascinated by the discovery of an ancient matrilineal property system, which gave to women considerable property rights. I was anxious that if new laws were to be implemented they should aim to strengthen the property rights of women not to inadvertently undermine them. Over the centuries, women in other societies had struggled hard to gain property rights, so it would have been extremely foolish for the Tamil community to undermine a well-entrenched historical matrilineal system. The customary laws required thorough scrutiny and any changes in the law should be made by working through the existing codes and strengthening them further, was how I viewed the legal approach to a solution to the dowry problem. In reality, in- depth research was required to discover how far the colonial rulers had modified the property codes and to what extent those modifications were useful to women and the society. Furthermore, the understanding of this matrilineal system coupled with a knowledge of various socio-cultural practices e.g. the arranged marriage system, led me to lean towards the view that the practice of dowry in its modern form was more indicative of the social oppression of women than an issue at the centre of their oppression. And so I set out my views in my book entitled Unbroken Chains published in 1994. The first part of the book focuses on the customary laws of the Jaffna Tamils as set out in the Thesawalamai codes, with the view of elucidating the property laws and the property relations upon which dowrying women is based. The second part examines the modalities of the contemporary practice of dowry and shows how the custom has a determining effect on the social existence of Tamil women. The contribution of state oppression to a deviation of the practice is explored. The arranged marriage system comes under scrutiny for its role in maintaining the caste system. The unyielding character of cultural influences in the determination of women’s lives is pointed out in the case of many professional women who, regardless of education, employment and status, are compelled to submit to the hegemony of social tradition and the dowry system. I examine the issue of domestic labour and its relatedness to the dowry system. The conclusion briefly looks at the effects of dependency on women’s lives. The book was translated into Tamil and appeared as a series of articles in the literary magazine ‘Vellichum’. The objective behind the writing of the book was to clarify the concept ‘chidenam’ in Jaffna culture. If my book has contributed towards that process, that is sufficient for me.

Eventually, on the instructions of Mr. Pirabakaran, the LTTE lawmakers (Justice Department) formulated new laws pertaining to the practice of dowry, upholding the property rights of women and abolishing the practice of cash donations to relatives of the bridegroom. The most significant aspect of the new law was the removal of the ancient code that gave the husband control over his wife’s property.

Researching Violence against Women

When the IPKF withdrew from Jaffna in 1990, they left behind a legacy of phenomenal social problems. Years of economic underdevelopment, the destruction of property, the disruption of war on people’s lives and occupation by a foreign army all added up to create a complex set of social problems amongst the Jaffna population. That there had been a breakdown in traditional cultural values and behaviour was a shared and lamented view amongst the people. The LTTE was faced with the enormous task of restoring calm and order into people’s lives and preventing social anarchy. The LTTE offices in every electorate throughout the Peninsula were inundated with a variety of complaints from the public on numerous social and criminal offences. Hence, the people demanded action from the LTTE to restore the tradition of social discipline and cohesion, which has been a distinguishing and admirable feature of the Jaffna society. But within this context it was also possible to formulate progressive strategies to some of the persistent social problems. Specific social problems, in my view, required thorough exploration and research based on which policies and solutions could be formulated.

Women, in particular, were facing phenomenal social problems and it was crucial to research particular social issues to discover the reality behind the appearance and formulate a forward-looking agenda for the future. For example, women from the depressed and poor sections of the society were repeated offenders in bootlegging. Arresting and imposing heavy fines on these women made no impact on stopping the practice. In my perception, punishing the women by either detaining them in custody or fining them had the potential to create even more social problems. Arrested women were not only criminalised, but the children were separated from the mother’s care and control. Both of these factors, in my view, had to be taken into consideration. I argued in favour of viewing the problem differently and the formulation of new solutions. In many cases widowed or abandoned women or women with disabled husbands had become the breadwinners and bootlegging was the only avenue in the socio-economic environment in Jaffna through which they could earn a living to support their families. But this social problem was a classic example of how thorough research into the dynamics of the issue could provide the answers for new solutions. So in fact, while the negative impact of war on the society was profound, it nevertheless provided a unique opportunity for positive social change. On the other hand, the social disruption brought about by war had the potential for the destruction of many positive dimensions of the society. Much of what was being destroyed could never be restored to its original form. In this complicated and serious context, in my view, there existed wide space and urgency for social research to capture and record as much of the social history of the Tamil community as was possible before it perished forever. Opportunities abounded for the recording of social history. For example, I was amazed to discover three and four generations of women living in either one house or one compound. That meant that the oldest woman in the family possessed the knowledge of over one hundred years of social history, if she remembered her own mother’s life. The socio-cultural history of women from different castes, the village history, changing social practices, the role of village midwives, the history of jewellery and clothes etc could be recorded first hand from these living encyclopaedias of social history.

Within this context of my thinking and interest in researching the many problems of Tamil women since my return to Jaffna, I followed up the exploration of the dowry issue with research into domestic violence in 1994-95.Amidst the seemingly insurmountable social problems faced by women during this period, incidents of domestic violence against women occasionally popped up in conversations. When a female cadre responded to my idea of researching domestic violence with the answer, ’What about women beating up men?“, I knew the area was complex and at the level of common sense understanding. While I learned during my research, that one or two women did enter into stand up fights with their husbands, I never had time or the resources to research the issue of female domestic violence and instead I remained at the level of domestic violence against women.

The Tamil Eelam Police Force was determined to protect the interests of women and any of the cases they reported at the police station were viewed sympathetically and swift action taken on their complaints. So in the absence of any form of counselling services, marriage guidance advice, refuge for battered women, social service etc, women came forward to lodge complaints of domestic violence by their husbands. It was an indication of the confidence women enjoyed in the police force. But most of the complaints women made against their husbands were cries for help to arrest the violence and to resolve the family problem. Very few women indeed were aiming at either separation from their husbands or wished to see them prosecuted. Because I viewed the issue of domestic violence as more serious than a private matter between husband and wife in which nobody should interfere, I decided to try and open up this area and at least ground this injustice against women in some form of scientific research or theoretical analysis.

Mr. Nedasan, the Head of the Police Force, co-operated with my research plans and after gaining the permission from women who had lodged complaints of domestic violence -allowed me access to some of his records. I studied the records of complaints to gain some inkling into the level of violence the prospective interviewee had been subjected to and began talking to as many of these women as possible. Given the secrecy and shame in society surrounding this issue, I was pleasantly surprised by the willingness of the women to travel long distances on bicycles for me to conduct the interview and readiness to share their intimate marital stories with me. Apart from a few young women who had not fully come to terms with the impact of the violence on their married lives and who both defended and blamed themselves, the ladies were totally uninhibited in rendering their stories; in some cases their entire married lives constituted daily beatings. I attribute my success in relating to these ladies to two factors. Firstly, I was a married woman. I doubt that very intimate matters would have been told to an unmarried Tamil interviewer or, any unmarried woman at all for that matter. Unmarried women are assumed not to know the ‘secrets of married life’ and therefore unable to understand the depth and intricacies of the intimate lives of married people. Secondly, I viewed the co-operation of the women as an indication of their aspiration to talk confidentially and openly to a person about their experiences with this problem. Apart from the content and level of the violence to which these women had been subjected, an issue that truly astounded me was the depth of compassion these women retained for the men who had abused them for most of their married lives, particularly the older women. The retention of their sympathy for their violent husbands is an issue in itself, but it also reflects the spirit of tolerance and love for their married partner, which has its roots in the cultural norms of Tamil society. Many social issues spun off from the content of these interviews, one of the most important being the reality of marital rape in the lives of Tamil women.

I continued with my research into domestic violence, but the sample of women was narrow in scope. For the study to be truly representative, it was crucial that I should speak to women who had not reported their case, but rather suppressed the violence and suffered quietly at home. And it was at this point that I ran into the expected reluctance of women to discuss the issue. Although various sources informed me of cases of domestic violence, I found it extremely difficult to break through the barrier of silence and to bring the social problem out from behind the walls of their houses. The caste/class factor in domestic violence came into play. Many of the women who had the courage to report the domestic violence and bring it out of the closet were women from the oppressed sections of society. Generally, the domestic violence could be attributed to the husband’s abuse of alcohol. The more complicated cases amongst the middle and high caste women remained closeted behind the walls of their homes.

But while social research was my personal interest, there were other dimensions of commentary that were required for the struggle in general. Sections of the Tamil diaspora often pointed out and complained to the international section of the LTTE in Jaffna about the absence of an authoritative LTTE publications in English to represent its views on the world stage. In response to and accepting that there was truth in the criticism - Bala and I took up the responsibility of producing an English language newspaper, ‘Inside Report’ which clearly reflected the views of the LTTE. It contained political analysis, articles on human rights violations, the military situation etc. This monthly publication consumed a great deal of our time, for, in view of the absence of any proficient English writing journalists in Jaffna at that time, Bala and myself and the occasional article from the public, wrote the contents of the eight page paper. Producing a paper under conditions of war where facilities and resources are scarce is a staggering task. Not only did we write, type, edit, proof read and layout the newspaper, but it was necessary to spend time at the press ensuring that letters did not drop out of the hand composed typeset plates during the process of printing. The newspaper, as did my social research, came to a halt with the outbreak of war. Indeed, one thing we eventually learned about living under conditions of war, was the futility of initiating any major projects. War and displacement inevitably intervened to put an end to or destroyed any new projects and initiatives.

The Outbreak of War in Jaffna

The euphoria that gripped the Tamil nation following the commencement of peace talks in 1994/95 between the Government of Chandrika Kumaratunga and the Liberation Tigers faded when hostilities resumed on 19th April 1995 following the collapse of the peace negotiations. Bala’s recent work, The Politics of Duplicity ⁸ provides a detailed critical examination of the underlying causes behind the breakdown of the talks.

⁸ Balasingham, Anton. “The Politics of Duplicity. Re-Visiting the Jaffna Talks’ First Edition 2000, Fairmax Publishing Ltd.

The Sri Lankan military establishment as well as the Sinhala Buddhist nationalist forces that formed the backbone of Kumaratunga’s government were opposed to peace and to any rational political settlement that might provide for regional autonomy or self rule to the Tamil people. Instead they opted for a military solution. Though Chandrika assumed power as Head of State with a mandate for peace, she swung towards the side of hard-line militarists under the façade of a strategy of ‘war for peace’. While the Foreign Minister, Mr. Lakshman Kadirgamar convinced the governments of the world of the necessity of war for a permanent peace and secured substantial financial aid for a war effort, the Sri Lanka Government launched a massive arms procurement programme. The armed forces were given the go ahead to buy modern weaponry systems, irrespective of costs, in preparation for an all out war.

Bala and I were alarmed by the emerging situation. Though some of our military cadres displayed over-confidence about the military power of the LTTE in defending our controlled areas, we assumed correctly as it turned out that the Government was preparing for a major invasion of the Jaffna Peninsula and the LTTE combat units might find it difficult to contain it. Our assumption was predicated on the unprecedented and massive build-up of government troops in the Pallaly military complex. We also learned that the government had purchased new combat aircraft, tanks, artillery pieces and other heavy weaponry, which were systematically shipped to the Pallaly base from the South.

The existence of an LTTE administrated de facto state in the Jaffna Peninsula was a humiliation and a challenge to the Sri Lanka state, which claimed sovereignty over the entire island and its people. Though the LTTE allowed the functioning of certain elements of the state structure, they maintained law and order and supervised various departments of the government to eliminate inefficiency and corruption with a view of promoting public welfare. The popular support for the Tigers by the Tamil people despite the government’s denouncement of LTTE’s rule as autocratic and illegal, irritated Colombo. Added to the concerns of the Sinhala leadership was the LTTE’s stated policy of self-determination, political independence and statehood. The Sinhalese feared that the LTTE’s military expansion, its territorial conquest of Tamil homeland and its administrative capability, might eventually lead to the realisation of the Tamil aspiration for an independent Tamil state.

The military conquest of Jaffna therefore became a key project of Kumaratunga’s government. If successfully accomplished, in the government’s view, it would signal the demise of Tamil power in the North and bring about the downfall of the LTTE’s military hegemony. The capture of Jaffna would also enhance the image of Chandrika Kumaratunga as the conqueror of the Tamil kingdom and as a champion of Sinhala-Buddhist supremacy. In spite of her pretensions as an angel of peace, President Kumaratunga opted for militarism anticipating that war and conquest of the Tamil homeland would put an end to the Tamil freedom movement once and for all, and at the same time earn her tremendous popularity among the nationalists and Sinhala-Buddhist hard-line constituency. Hence, she gave primacy to the objective of the military invasion of Jaffna and appointed her uncle, General A. Ratwatte, to implement the project. The hard-line and ruthless General Janaka Perera, notorious for his mass killings of Tamils during his command in the Eastern Province and Sinhalese during the JVP uprising in the 80s, was given the task of field commander for the invasion of the Jaffna Peninsula.

Although the people of Jaffna expected military operations in the Peninsula following the collapse of the negotiations, they had no idea of the scale and magnitude of the military preparations that were being undertaken by the Sri Lanka government. Thousands and thousands of combat troops and heavy weapons were being inducted into the Pallaly complex by air and sea. We later learned that about thirty to forty thousand troops were assembled from various districts of the East and South of the country for this decisive battle. But apart from the aerial and artillery bombardment, life went on as normal in Jaffna. Unaware of the massive military build-up, the people of Jaffna entertained an illusionary confidence that the LTTE fighters would successfully defend Jaffna in the event of an invasion by the Sinhalese army. Frankly, Bala and I were nervous about the impending assault. We could see that an invasion on the Peninsula would bring massive destruction of property to Jaffna. But even more worrying was the number of civilian casualties such an invasion would inflict. The prospect of an all out conventional war in the densely populated area was frightening. I felt deeply sad to think of the possibility of the cultural capital of the Tamil people falling to Sinhala occupation and domination again.

On 9th July 1995, as the first phase of the invasion of Jaffna, the Sri Lankan armed forces launched a massive military assault code- named ‘Operation Leap Forward’. Thousands of well armed combat troops supported by artillery and aerial bombardment made a pincer movement towards Jaffna city. One column of troops moved from Pallaly and Tellipallai towards Alaveddy and Sandilipay, while the other advanced from Mathagal along the coastal belt of Ponnalay towards Vaddukoddai. With limited resistance from the LTTE, the Sri Lankan troops reached the outskirts of Vaddukoddai and Sandilipay within four days. The Colombo media was jubilant, highlighting stories of dramatic military victories by the Sinhala army. But the military success of the first phase of the Jaffna invasion sent shudders through the Jaffna civilian population. So I was relieved when Bala told me that Mr. Pirabakaran was planning a major counter offensive operation to thwart the invasion. The LTTE’s counter-offensive code named ‘Operation Tiger Leap’ was launched on 14th July 1995. LTTE commando units attacked the military concentrations at Alaveddy and Sandilipay inflicting heavy casualties. Intense fighting continued for two days. During the fighting, a Puccara combat aircraft was shot down by an LTTE surface to air missile and the naval command ship ‘Ediththera’ was sunk by a Black Sea Tiger near Kankesanthurai Port. Unable to resist the ferocious counter thrust by the LTTE, the government troops abandoned their offensive and withdrew to barracks.

The success of the operation ‘Tiger Leap’ and the significant damage inflicted on the navy and airforce generated a sense of relief amongst the Jaffna population. But they were unaware that the army’s operation ‘Leap Forward’ was a diversionary strike to test the defensive capability of the LTTE. The operation was also undertaken to confuse the LTTE of the possible route the Sri Lankan army might take to advance towards Jaffna city when the real offensive began.

The sense of relief and normalcy that prevailed in Jaffna following the military victory of operation ‘Tiger Leap’ turned out to be short lived. By the end of July 1995 the Sri Lankan armed forces began to intensify the aerial and artillery bombardment. The shelling and bombing centred on Jaffna city and its suburbs. The attacks were indiscriminate and intended to cause civilian casualties and to terrorise and demoralise the civilian population. Day by day, the artillery shelling and aerial bombing increased and eventually extended into the night. On several occasions the sound of approaching bombers woke us up and sent us running in the dark to the bunker. Jaffna town trembled under the intensity of the night bombardment. Every night was a nightmare for the people who took cover in bunkers or woke up and ran to different areas away from the shelling for safety. Our house rattled and shook from the vibrations of nearby explosions of artillery shells. I can still remember the sleepless nights and deafening noise when the boosters of shells ignited over our area. Ultimately the night shelling became so frequent we grew weary of taking cover and left it to luck as to whether a round fell on our house or not. The aerial bombardment was also indiscriminate. Although the Sri Lanka Air Force claimed it targeted LTTE military encampments the bombs always landed on civilian targets. The most infamous incident was the air strike on St Paul’s church at Navaly about five kilometres from the Jaffna city. Bombs exploded amongst the displaced people who had taken refuge at the Catholic shrine. In this tragic incident on July 9th, 120 civilians - including children and the elderly - were killed and more than 150 people were seriously injured. Sri Lanka had the audacity to claim that it had successfully targeted an LTTE military camp. The denial by Sri Lanka following the mass murder added insult to injury and outraged the beleaguered Jaffna people. This horrific incident would have been blacked out behind the curtain of press censorship if the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) delegation had not issued an official statement confirming the civilian casualties, placing the blame squarely on the Sri Lanka Air force for the indiscriminate aerial attack. The ICRC statement revealed the nature of the savage war. Severely embarrassed by this revelation, the Sri Lanka Foreign Minister, Mr. Kadirgamar, summoned the ICRC representative to his office and warned him not to interfere in the internal affairs of the state. The other ugly incident that horrified the people of Jaffna was the aerial bombardment of Nagar Kovil Maha Vidyaklayam (High School) on 22nd September in which twenty-four students were killed and thirty-five seriously injured.

The Invasion of Jaffna and the Exodus

The military invasion we had anticipated with great apprehension started on 1st October 1995 with the launching of an offensive code-named ‘Operation Thunder’. Aptly named, it began with massive artillery and aerial bombardment on Valigamam, particularly in the areas of Vasavillan, Pathameni, Atchuveli and Puttur. After softening the LTTE’s defence positions with heavy artillery barrages and aerial strikes, thousands of Sri Lankan troops attacked LTTE positions at Vasavillan and Pathameni precipitating ferocious fighting, which continued for days, with casualties on both sides. Heavy artillery stationed at Pallaly base rained shells incessantly day and night throughout Valigamam - particularly in the Eastern sector compelling thousands of people to flee from their traditional villages. ‘Operation Thunder’ continued for nearly two weeks. The Sri Lankan army, ignoring the heavy casualties it suffered, overran several LTTE positions and captured the strategically important towns of Atchuveli, Avarankal and Puttur. With the capture of these towns, we knew that the Sri Lankan army had chosen the Eastern flank of Valigamam as their route to advance towards the Jaffna city. Accordingly, the Tiger combat units built massive defence barriers in Neerveli and Kopay blocking the Jaffna-Point Pedro main road. We also knew that if Neerveli and Kopay fell, the Sinhalese troops would swiftly move across the Chemmani expanse and seize Navatkuli Bridge which links Valigamam and Thenmarachchi regions. In that eventuality, an estimated half a million people in Valigamam, including the populace of the Jaffna city, would be trapped by the army. In fact, that was precisely the strategic objective of the Kumaratunga government. We waited and watched anxiously for the next move as ‘Operation Thunder’ subsided and the government troops consolidated the territories that they had gained from the LTTE. We expected the next phase of the war would be decisive. The morale of our cadres was high, with a fierce determination to defend Jaffna. But we were also acutely aware that the Government troops had the manpower and firepower and displayed a strong determination to achieve their strategic objective, irrespective of the heavy casualties they suffered.

The decisive day came on the 17th October 1995 when “Operation Riviresa’ (Sun Rays) got underway. The strategic target was Jaffna city. Fierce fighting flared in the Neerveli sector where the LTTE fighters were dug in and heavily concentrated. While the Tigers resisted fiercely from their defensive positions, the Sri Lankan army turned their artillery fire indiscriminately against civilian settlements in Jaffna city and its suburbs. Supersonic and Puccara combat aircraft struck at civilian areas according to the whims of the pilots. The intense aerial activity and artillery shells exploding around our area at Kokkuvil meant that Bala and I spent a large amount of our time racing between the house and the bunker about twenty yards from the front door. Our bodyguards, concerned that our house might be a possible target for aerial attack, watched the path of the bomber planes and warned us whenever a bomber started to dive close to our house. On several occasions the shock waves from exploding shells and bombs swept through our bunker tugging our hair and clothing. A sudden unexpected explosion one evening vibrated through the house, throwing up dust and bringing down loose sheeting and rattling the windows. I was thrown back against the wall of my room. My head took the full brunt of the impact and I felt as if it was to be torn from my body. I fell to the floor and shouted at Bala to keep down, anticipating a barrage of artillery shells. Our bodyguards came running with a torch to direct us in the dark to the bunker where we all waited to ensure the barrage was over. We later learned the explosion was in the neighbourhood and over ten people had died.

The entire population in Jaffna lived in fear and uncertainty. Valigamam turned into a killing field. Hundreds of people were being killed and their property destroyed under the guise of ‘a war for peace’. Neither the world media nor the international governments showed any serious concern over this monumental human tragedy.

During those dangerous times Bala spent several hours studying maps to locate the possible routes where the army might advance to reach the Jaffna city. It concerned him very much and he was deeply interested in fathoming the potential moves by the army. By studying the day-to-day events in the battle, he pointed out to me that the Sri Lankan troops would not be able to penetrate the built up areas and the network of roads and lanes where LTTE fighters were heavily entrenched. He calculated correctly as it turned out that the Sri Lankan troops might attempt to advance through the coastal region of Uppu Aru lagoon along the fields and marshy lands lying between the Jaffna-Point Pedro road and the salty lagoon that stretches from Puttur to Chemmani. The LTTE commanders were aware that the army might eventually seek this route. Unfortunately the LTTE’s defence fortifications were weak in this terrain against the formidable firepower of the enemy’s battle tanks.

On 29th October the Sri Lankan armed forces overran the LTTE defence lines in Neerveli in one of the bloodiest battles of ‘Operation Riviresa’ and the armoured columns began moving towards Kopay North, along the coastal region of the lagoon. The LTTE had mobilised several combat units to block the advancement of troops towards Kopay and heavy fighting erupted in the area. The situation was very dangerous. If the Sri Lankan troops overran the LTTE defence positions in Kopay North, they could swiftly proceed to Chemmani and capture Navatkuli Bridge trapping the population in Valigamam. The air was thick with fear and tension. Mr. Tamil Chelvan came to our residence and asked Bala and myself - along with our bodyguards to vacate our Kokkuvil house and move to Chavakachcheri where he had arranged a house for us to stay in temporarily. He also said that the Jaffna population would be informed of the situation the next morning and they would be advised to leave Valigamam before the Navatkuli Bridge fell to enemy troops. While we were hurriedly packing our bags to leave for Madduvil, a village in Chavakachcheri, an endless barrage of artillery shells rained down in the vicinity of our house indicating that the troops were closing in on Jaffna city. On our way to Chavakachcheri, our hearts sank when we saw crowds of displaced families trekking along the Kopay-Kaithaddy road fleeing from the advancing columns of Sri Lankan troops.

The following morning - 30th October - LTTE political cadres made a public announcement through loud speakers informing the people of Jaffna and other areas of Valigamam that the Sri Lankan troops were closing in on the city. Declaring that the LTTE forces were determined to resist the Sri Lankan troops and defend Jaffna, they requested the people to move to safer areas in Thenmarachchi to avoid the danger of being subjected to the enemy’s ruthless firepower. The warning hit a nerve with the agitated, terror stricken population and precipitated a hasty and confused exodus from Jaffna.

The exodus was a colossal human tragedy, unprecedented in its proportions. Heeding the appeal of the LTTE cadres and realising the imminent danger to their lives from the invading enemy troops, the entire population of Valigamam - more than five hundred thousand people - stepped out onto the roads carrying their bare essentials and dragging along their children, the elderly and the sick. Everyone knew they would be safe if they could just crossover the Navatkuli bridge into Kaithaddy, Thenmarachchi. This realisation led to a headlong rush to cross the bridge before the enemy blocked the evacuation of the Jaffna population. The roads leading to Chavakachcheri were jam-packed with masses of desperate, frightened people. Bicycles - the only mode of transport - became a burden as the movement of the multitude ground to a halt with the cramming and congestion of people. The overcrowded processions of people extended for miles and it took several hours to move a few hundred yards. Adding to the tragedy, it started to rain. Teardrops from the weeping sky provided only a tiny relief to the many thirsty, dehydrated mouths. Children cried with the agony of starvation as their parents watched helplessly. The elderly stumbled along the roads, often stopping to draw breath. Deprived of food and water and exposed to the weather, the sick became sicker. Strained and stressed by the emotional and physical upheaval of the event, a pregnant woman lay down on the side of the road to deliver her baby, unattended in the open air. Despite the physical hardships suffered by the people there was a sense of determination and urgency to escape from the clutches of an unpredictable and dangerous enemy who was nearing the gates to Jaffna.

The Sri Lankan government and its armed forces never anticipated such a mass evacuation of people from Valigamam. When they understood the scope and magnitude of the exodus and the direction of the moving multitude, they realised, to their utter dismay and frustration, that they are going to conquer a ghost city. The advancing troops could do nothing to prevent the evacuation. At one stage Air Force jets in desperation struck at the fleeing population at Chemmani killing two civilians and injuring five others. This cowardly act failed to deter the population fleeing across the bridge. Within three or four days, a population of half a million people vacated Valigamam and crossed over to the LTTE controlled Thenmarachchi.

A huge displaced population engulfed Chavakachcheri, a historic town famous for its open market and delicious fruit. Every house in the town provided shelter and refuge to relatives, friends and strangers. I know of one house where sixty people lived, stretching the water resources and toilet facilities. All over Chavakachcheri - in schools, colleges, temples, churches, coconut plantations, and mango groves people scrambled for some space where they and their families could stay. As I rode on my bicycle to the local vegetable market I was overwhelmed by the sense of urgency that filled the air. The town was packed with people and their belongings. Some people just stood, surrounded by their possessions with nowhere to go. Others squatted listlessly under trees they had claimed as their home. Small fires burned and smoke wafted eerily through the air as women struggled to cook for their hungry, tired and distressed families. Children cried and rubbed their eyes and looked around hopelessly. The elderly and sick lay on mats on the cold ground and snatched a short rest while the other family members watched over them. A deep sorrow engulfed me as I witnessed this historic tragedy. Most of these people had abandoned their elegant houses with flourishing gardens and fruit tress. Having deserted their property built up over generations of hard toil, they were now, overnight, reduced to conditions of wretchedness, faced with despair and misery. It was a sad and tragic scenario to see the proud and dignified people of Jaffna moving around aimlessly, impoverished and homeless. An entire community of people was compelled to abandon their sacred city, the cultural capital of the Eelam Tamils, where they have lived for innumerable centuries.

The life in Chavakachcheri and its surrounding villages became intolerable for the displaced Jaffna population. Faced with an acute shortage of food and medicine, deprived of proper accommodation, sanitary facilities etc, the displaced suffered extreme hardships. Adding to their misery was the artillery fire directed at random amongst them to create terror and cause casualties. The shelling also reminded the Tamil people of the imminent invasion of Thenmarachchi. Neither the Kumaratunga government nor the international governments showed any concern about the pathetic plight of the displaced. The Colombo media observed a studied silence as if nothing had happened to the Jaffna population. The media only highlighted stories of the ‘spectacular’ military advances of the ‘brave soldiers’ whose objective was to ‘liberate’ the people of Jaffna from the ‘terrorist’ LTTE. There was one lone voice that expressed concern over the exodus of the Jaffna population. The former United Nations Secretary General Boutros Boutros Ghali called upon the international governments to assist the uprooted Jaffna population. Fearing that this inhuman tragedy caused by the war would become internationalised, Mr. Kadirgamar, Sri Lanka’s Foreign Minister acted swiftly, denying the existence of any humanitarian tragedy. In a bid to cover-up the criminality of the Sinhala state, the ‘Tamil’ Minister cautioned the UN Secretary General not to exaggerate the ‘minor problem’ of an ‘internally displaced’ people that concerns the ‘internal affairs’ of a ‘sovereign state’. Mr. Kadirgamar thereby suppressed the only voice that expressed genuine concern for the plight of the displaced Jaffna Tamils.

Withdrawing to Vanni

The task of catering for the needs of half-a-million displaced people in Thenmarachchi while engaging in a defensive war against a formidable conventional army poised to take over the Peninsula, was far beyond the resources of the LTTE. Though a few commando units had penetrated into Valigamam and were able to harass the occupation army, the LTTE leadership decided to move the bulk of its forces to Vanni. The Tigers knew that the Sinhala army would soon enter Thenmarachchi and Vadamarachchi to take control of the entire peninsula and to fight a defensive war from Chavakachcheri would be suicidal for both the LTTE fighters and the over-crowded civilian population. With this realisation the LTTE had taken steps to progressively move its combat formations to Vanni. Already a section of the displaced population had moved into Vanni fearing an escalation of the war in Thenmarachchi. Though the LTTE aspired to move the displaced people into Vanni, it did not advocate or encourage such a project realising the practical difficulties in rehabilitating a massive population. Having suffered horrendously as a consequence of displacement, significant sections of the population were unsure as to whether to choose an uncertain life in Vanni or to return to their homes under an army of occupation. They waited, watching the developments of the war. But for a huge section of the Jaffna population, who openly supported and sympathised with the LTTE, there was no choice but to follow the organisation into Vanni to avoid military persecution. Bala and I were in this category. We had no choice but to move to the Vanni or die. We were waiting instructions from Mr. Pirabakaran and they came. Soon after we were on our way to the coast. Our reliable friend Soosai got busy on the walkie-talkie giving instructions to the female Sea Tiger crew who were to pilot the boat that would take us to the Vanni. It quickly appeared on the scene and moored about one hundred yards in the shallow waters of the Kilally lagoon. We waded out, knee deep in water and bundled onto the boat. A few minutes later we were on our way across the lagoon, leaving Jaffna behind us for a totally new life in the Vanni. Our destination was the village of Visvamadu, about twenty kilometres from Killinochchi town. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what to expect, but as Soosai drove us along the pot-holed dirt road an hour after our landing in the Vanni, the economic underdevelopment of the area was apparent, even in the dark of night. The route to Visvamadu was interspersed with small hamlets and vast open tracts of paddy fields and roads lined with thick jungle overgrowth.

Our stay in Visvamadu was temporary, the first in a series of residences we occupied during our displaced existence in Vanni. Visvamadu is an agricultural village of hardworking Jaffna farmers. These people had secured the land under a government colonisation scheme and had transformed an area of thick jungle into fertile patches of paddy fields and coconut plantations. We became friendly with several farming families and our life in Visvamadu was relaxed and free from the conditions of war. Killinochchi became the central commercial town teeming with the displaced population. The LTTE had established its political headquarters in Killinochchi and we regularly visited the town. On 18th April 1996 while we were still living in Visvamadu, we heard of ‘Operation Riveresa 2’ during which the Sri Lankan troops suddenly marched into Thenmarachchi and captured the area without resistance from the LTTE. This sudden military invasion caused chaos amongst the displaced population in Thenmarachchi. Thousands and thousands of panic-stricken people fled to Kilally to cross the lagoon to the Vanni. There were few boats available to transport a huge number of terrorised, stampeding people. The tragedy was further compounded by air strikes on the fleeing population at Kilally in an attempt to stop the evacuation of the people to Vanni. Sri Lankan bombers and helicopter gunships attacked the boats carrying civilians causing death and chaos. Trapped by the invading troops and prevented from escaping to the Vanni across the lagoon, the displaced population had no choice but to return to their abandoned homes in Jaffna. The return of the displaced to Jaffna was portrayed by the Government controlled media as a major victory for the Kumaratunga government whose troops had ‘liberated’ the Jaffna population from the clutches of the ‘terrorists’.

Insofar as I was concerned, the return of a large number of people to Valigamam was not to be viewed as a setback, but as a positive step for the people and the struggle. Firstly, most of the people had a home of their own and a known social environment in Jaffna, which was preferable in anybody’s judgement to the miserable existence in the open in Thenmarachchi. For me, the people’s return to their homes would give them the opportunity to restore their dignity and self respect after facing severe and demoralising distress as displaced, dispossessed people. Equally important, in my view, it was crucial to the struggle that the people reclaim their property in Jaffna. In this way the Tamil people’s residency in the peninsula maintained their claim over traditional lands and, secondly, it prevented the occupation of vacant Tamil homes and the usurping of land by Sinhalese settlements as has been the case in Trincomalee district. And thirdly, I felt it was necessary for the struggle that the people should retain their emotional attachment to their historical birthplace. That the land was theirs and the Sinhalese were the intruders and foreign occupiers was an important sentiment to be nurtured. If anyone was to leave Jaffna it should be the Sinhalese army, not the Jaffna people.

Tragically, following the return of the majority of the displaced people to Valigamam to their abandoned homes and villages the Sinhalese occupation army, under the command of General Janaka Perera, slowly turned the Jaffna peninsula into an open prison. The so-called ‘liberators’ soon revealed themselves to be oppressors. The mass scale arrests, detention, torture and extra-judicial killings of civilians are documented facts. Over one thousand people have disappeared and mass graves, for example at Chemmani in Jaffna, have been uncovered. The persecution of the people of Jaffna living under Sinhala military occupation is regular news in both the local and international media.