No-fire-zone (NFZ), in the contemporary discourse on conflicts and conflict resolution, is a metaphor for the fake concern for civilian life. Each civilian death in NFZ symbolises the unverifiability of truth and utter lack of credibility of the state and non-state players. Unarmed civilians, threatened from within and without by soldiers armed to their teeth and trained to kill, can neither completely endorse LTTE’s revolutionary fervour nor respond favourably to the Sri Lankan government’s “benign”, humanitarian overtures.
The complex process of conflict resolution demands stopping of war to give peace a chance, to open a narrow window for a dialogue for reconciliation. Ceasefire — clearly transient in nature — is yet another tool in the hands of a cynical leadership. But, cessation of hostilities is another ballgame altogether. The consequence of cessation of hostilities should be temporary or lasting peace, as the case may be, but in reality it is not. Similarly end of war does not necessarily construe as equivalent to peace.
The long-drawn struggle of armed (or otherwise) ethnic Tamils for a separate homeland as a lasting solution went through several stages. What began as a struggle to redress legitimate grievances was ruthless suppressed by the Sri Lankan State — more often than not acting as non-inclusive Sinhala State. The birth of a new wave of militancy once again earned the wrath of the state. It followed the inevitable polarisation within the rival sides. Consequently, democracy and peace became the minority viewpoint vis-à-vis chauvinism and hardening of positions. As the room for flexibility and negotiation shrunk, the scope for militaristic strategies and solutions on both sides expanded.
Whenever there was a possibility of conflict resolution, either the Sri Lankan government or the LTTE squandered it. It is too early to apportion blame in this regard. However, militant movements and organisations tend to lack internal systems/processes and patience and faith to leverage peace initiatives to achieve their long-term goals. But modern democratic states are expected to have the vision and be equipped to go the extra mile to resolve conflicts with its own people. If the LTTE as an organisation and its leadership was seen as being not amenable to conflict resolution, the Sinhala chauvinism embedded in the Sri Lankan body politic was more adamant in not yielding ground to militants.
The end result has been the huge humanitarian cost paid by the Tamils of Sri Lanka. It proved yet again that military force cannot solve political problems and ensure peace. If so, George Bush would have been awarded Nobel Peace prize by now.
The two books under review capture the various aspects of the conflict and peace initiatives. G H Peiris, professor emeritus, University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka, presents a comprehensive account of peace initiatives during this decade. Swedish academician Camilla Orjuela looks at the role of civil society groups and their limitations in facilitating peace.
One could be a bit wary of Peiris’s political positions, not because of his Sinhala origin, but for expressing his “deeply felt gratitude to Dr Ajai Sahni, executive director of the Institute for Conflict Management, New Delhi, who has been a source of encouragement” for his writings on Sri Lanka. Those familiar with defence and security analysts would be aware of the strident positions of Sahni, who has jointly edited (with anti-terror top cop KPS Gill) the book, Terror & Containment: Perspectives on India’s Internal Security.
The tone and tenor adopted by Peiris in opposing the LTTE and in tacitly supporting the state often borders on pamphleteering. It can easily put off not only those who are sympathetic to the Tamil cause, but also those who appreciate a sense of balance and detachment in academic works.
To a discerning reader, Peiris’ book, despite its blatant biases, offers interesting information and perspectives. For instance, in the prelude titled “Final Phase of the Eelam War”, written very recently (early 2009), the author avers: “In the eastern lowlands, indications are that of a buoyant economy aided by a fairly rapid process of reconstruction...The re-establishment of a provincial council (headed by... Karuna group) and other elected institutions of government in this area testify to a process of democratisation which it had not experienced at least since the mid-1980s.”
The book provides an excellent recap of the peace initiatives — from Thimphu to Oslo. It also offers insight into the leadership styles and politics of Sinhala leaders such as Jayawardene, Premadasa, Kumaratunga and Wickremasinghe that shaped their responses to the conflict and peace. Another interesting chapter is “The Liberation Tigers in Crisis” which focuses on the revolt by Karuna and its consequences.
After Peiris’ shrill tone and tenor, Orjuela’s sober academic approach is a welcome relief. The in-your-face contrast couldn’t be missed. Let’s illustrate it with their self-explanatory descriptions of Pongu Tamil.
Orjuela: “The political and cultural manifestations called Pongu Tamil (Tamil Uprising), which started at the University of Jaffna in January 2001, was another example of the new possibilities for political mobilisation.... According to the organisers, Pongu Tamil played an important role expressing the Tamil demands to be recognised as a nation, with its own homeland and right to self-determination to audiences in both southern Sri Lanka and the rest of the world.”
Peiris: “The LTTE-directed Pongu Thamil (sic) demonstrations in Sri Lanka was featured by nationalistic rhetoric and certain ritualistic associations with belligerence such as the mass performance of the ‘Nazi salute’ to Prabhakaran’s cardboard image.”
One of the first questions that struck me during the latest phase of the Eelam war, described time and again as the endgame, was: How could the LTTE evacuate and take with them hundreds of thousands of civilians? Whatever has happened to Tamil civil society and its community-based/civil society organisations?
They may not be in a position to resist but at least could provide succour to civilians and information to the world beyond the LTTE-controlled areas. Orjuela’s book helps one to draw inferences about the ground
realities of peace and conflict.
The heart of Orjuela’s book is the chapter titled “Identity and Violent Conflict in Sri Lanka”. It analyses the background and dynamics of the conflict as well as official attempts to resolve it. According to the author, this chapter “specifically highlights the way in which identities have become politicised and polarised before, during and after the escalation of militarised violence”. Reading Orjuela’s book makes one realise the painful truth, contrary to what politicians say, that there are no simple solutions to identity-based conflicts. Read together, the two books help us understand the past and identify a few pointers to the future as well.
(Mohan teaches at the Asian College of Journalism, Chennai) .
mohan.word@gmail.com
