Opinion
JULY 1983: AS THE WORLD SAW SRI LANKA
Monday 25th July 1983 began like just another day. But what we didn’t know was that it was to be the last day of an era. By mid-morning from my second-floor office in Fort I could see the city being put to the torch. Already my two sisters’ homes in the suburbs had been attacked and they were taking shelter with Sinhalese and Burgher neighbours.
After ensuring that the female staff was safely escorted home, I walked to my wife’s office in Kompannavidiya. Outside the Air Force Headquarters on Sir Chittampalam Gardiner Mawatha, gangs were stopping cars and setting them on fire. A Police jeep drove through the inferno; but the mob did not pause from their orgy of destruction. On Malay Street groups were looting and then setting shops ablaze. I watched truckloads of troops chanting ‘Jayaweva’ drive out of Army Headquarters, exhorting and encouraging the mobs.
A Sinhalese colleague accompanied us back home where we packed one briefcase with essential documents and one basket with food and necessities for Nishara, our nine-month-old baby. If we had to flee this was all we would take. When a house in the adjacent road was attacked, we took refuge with a Sinhalese neighbour.
We were among the fortunate. We survived. This article remembers the many who did not return to their homes; who came home to charred ruins; who fled to refugee camps and then into exile overseas. It honours the memories of the men, women, children and domestic animals who perished in Sri Lanka’s Holocaust.
By Jayantha Somasundaram
This article is based on reporting by the international media on the events in Sri Lanka 40 years ago.)
“I am not worried about the opinion of the Jaffna people… now we cannot think of them, not about their lives or their opinion… the more you put pressure in the north, the happier the Sinhala people will be here… Really, if I starve the Tamils out, the Sinhala people will be happy.” – President J.R. Jayewardene, Daily Telegraph (London) 11 July 1983
“Someone seemed to have planned the whole thing and waited only for an opportunity. And the opportunity came on the night of 23 July,” (Race & Class London XXVI.I [1984]). Thirteen soldiers of the 1st Battalion Sri Lanka Light Infantry were killed in a landmine explosion in Thirunelveli. Enraged troops struck back immediately. David Beresford wrote that “members of the Tamil community in Jaffna told the British Guardian troops killed a number of students waiting at a bus stop; the students aged between 18 and 20 had been lined up and fired upon. Six were killed and another two injured. Shortly afterwards troops drove through a village about five miles outside Jaffna shooting at random. Two were reported killed. Soldiers in civilian clothes were out in jeeps and raided a number of houses shooting inhabitants. In one house a family planning official was allegedly shot dead while lying on his bed and his 72-year-old father-in-law a headmaster shot sitting outside on the veranda. About 16 people were killed.
“Asked yesterday why no inquests have been held, President Jayewardene said: I didn’t know until a couple of days ago. It is too late now.” The violence then spread to Trincomalee where since early June Tamils had been subject to violence by hoodlums from the market area. On the 3rd the Mansion Hotel had been attacked. Now sailors went on a rampage destroying Hindu Temples, homes and shops. “In Trincomalee” reported The Irish Times (29.7.83), “130 sailors were under arrest after breaking out of their barracks on Monday and attacking shops and homes.”
“Only one in every 100 policemen is a Tamil. When security forces were ordered last week to protect Tamils in Trincomalee and other cities, they reportedly joined in the looting and burning,” said the London Observer (31.7.83).
A crowd had gathered at Kanatte Cemetery in Colombo for the funeral of the soldiers to be held on the 24th evening. “That night, a section of this crowd started setting fire to Tamil houses at the Borella end of Rosmead Place,” (Race & Class ibid).
On the morning of the 25th, mobs began moving right through Colombo and its suburbs waylaying Tamils and attacking them. They stopped vehicles and set ablaze those belonging to Tamils. They went through commercial areas looted shops and set them on fire. Residential areas were worked systematically and homes occupied by Tamils were attacked, looted and burned. Tamils who fell into the hands of these mobs were beaten and killed.
“There is no doubt that someone had identified the Tamil houses, shops and factories earlier. Seventeen industrial complexes belonging to some of the leading Tamil and Indian industrialists were razed to the ground, including those of the multi-millionaire and firm supporter of the ruling party, A.Y. S. Gnanam (the only capitalist in Sri Lanka to whom the World Bank offered a loan), and the influential Maharaja Organisation. The Indian-owned textile mills of Hirdramani Ltd, which used a labour force of 4,000 in the suburbs of Colombo was gutted. So was K. G. Industries Ltd, Hentley Garments, one of the biggest garment exporters…Several cinemas owned by Tamils were destroyed…Probably the worst affected area was the Pettah, the commercial centre of Colombo, where Tamil and Indian traders played a dominant role. Hardly a single Tamil or Indian establishment was left standing. A most distressing aspect of the vandalism was the burning and the destruction of the houses and dispensaries of eminent Tamil doctors – some with over a quarter of a century of service in Sinhala areas.” (Race & Class ibid)
All over the island
By midday the skyline was marked by columns of smoke as factories, shops and houses burned to the ground. A curfew was imposed at 2.00 pm but the terror did not abate, the attacks continued into the next day. “In the capital Colombo, Tamils are said to have been dragged from their cars and incinerated with petrol,” reported the London Economist (30.7.83).
Anthony Mascarenhas of the London Sunday Times wrote: “Throughout Monday Tamil shops were attacked and burned. Those who resisted perished with their property. Buses and cars were stopped and their Tamil passengers beaten up. Cars were burned and strewn all over the city. The army moved in by noon but troops turned a blind eye. Next day Tuesday, the looters took over defying the curfew. By midweek the trouble had spread all over the island. Affluent Tamils in Colombo who had hidden to escape the mobs were now singled out for attacks in their homes, which were looted and burned.”
“The capital was strewn with the wreckage of scores of shops and houses set ablaze, gutted or looted in the rioting.”(New York Times 28/7/83)
John Elliot of the London Financial Times reported from Colombo: “In each street individual business premises were burned down while others alongside were unscathed. Troops and police either joined the rioters or stood idly by. President Jayawardene failed either intentionally or because he had lost control to stem the damage.”
“By Monday night” said Asiaweek from Hong Kong (12.8.83) “the official death toll in the Greater Colombo area alone was 36 with hundreds more injured and unofficial estimates put the figure at three or four times higher. Most of the dead were helpless Tamils stranded in the city and caught by mobs while trying to flee. In the Borella area two Tamil shop-owners were burnt alive when a mob set fire to a row of shops. In Maradana a Tamil was chased by a mob brought down with stones and then hacked to death.
“On Monday while Borella was being put to the torch rioting broke out in adjacent Welikada prison. Some 400 prisoners from a section reserved for common criminals broke into the maximum-security section. Of the Tamil inmates many of whom were still awaiting trial, 37 were killed, either bludgeoned to death with iron bars or literally trampled to death.
“By Tuesday morning virtually every town in Sri Lanka with a Tamil presence bore scars of rioting. The main target, Tamil owned shops and businesses. According to one estimate more than half the country’s Tamil owned shops were gutted.
“Meanwhile the violence went on” continued Asiaweek (12.8.83). “On Thursday an incoming train from Kandy was stopped just outside the Fort station by security forces acting on a tip that Tamil terrorists were on board. One Tamil was reportedly apprehended carrying hand grenades and an automatic rifle. In the process of arresting them however, pandemonium broke out in the train and the Tamil passengers fled. Ten were run down by a mob of some 2,000 Sinhalese who doused each one with petrol and set them alight while still alive. As the victims screamed in pain the Sinhalese crowd cheered and flashed victory signs, then spilled into the streets looting and burning Tamil shops.”
Welikada Prison
“The same day saw more trouble at Welikada,” explained Asiaweek. “Sinhalese prisoners for the second time in three days broke into the maximum-security wing, this time murdering seventeen Tamil detainees. With three other Tamil inmates killed in the Jaffna jail, the total number of Tamils clubbed or trampled to death by rampaging Sinhalese prisoners was 55.”
David Beresford of The Guardian (13.8.83) recalled that ‘Kutumani’ Yogachandran and Ganeshnathan Jeganathan in speeches from the dock had announced that they would donate their eyes in the hope that they would be grafted onto those who would see the birth of Tamil Eelam. “Reports from Batticaloa jail where the survivors of the Welikada massacre are now being kept say that the two men were forced to kneel and their eyes were gorged out with iron bars before they were killed.”
On his return to London Pat O’Leary told the Associated Press “People were dragged out of their homes and then the houses were burned down. I watched a group of Sinhalese people chase a group of three Tamils. They caught one beat him up threw him to the ground and stoned him. It was terrible. Nobody did a thing to help. Even the Police turned a blind eye.”
A Norwegian woman Eli Skarstein on her return to Oslo told the press that “A mini bus full of Tamils was forced to stop just in front of us in Colombo. A Sinhalese mob poured petrol over the bus and set it on fire. They blocked the car doors and prevented the Tamils from leaving the vehicle. Hundreds of spectators witnessed as 20 Tamils were burned to death.”
“For days soldiers and policemen were not overwhelmed: they were unengaged or, in some cases apparently aiding the attackers,” reported the London Economist (6.8.83). “Numerous eye witnesses attest that soldiers and policemen stood by while Colombo burned. After two days of violence and the murder of 35 Tamils in a maximum-security jail, the only editorial in the government-run newspaper was on ‘saving our forest cover’.
“It was five days after the precipitating ambush and a day after a second prison massacre that the people of Sri Lanka heard from their President. On July 28th Mr. Jayewardene spoke on television to denounce separatism and proscribing any party that endorsed it in order to ‘appease the natural desire and request’ of the Sinhalese ‘to prevent the country being divided’. Not a syllable of sympathy for the Tamil people or any explicit rejection of the spirit of vengeance. Next day Colombo was a battle field: more than 100 people are estimated to have been killed on that Friday alone.”
Tigers in the City
On Friday 29th when a soldier accidently shot himself in the Pettah the rumour spread that ‘Tigers’ were in the City. Indian journalist M. Rahman reported how in response soldiers and Sinhalese mobs retreated to the many bridges leading out of Colombo, killing Tamils desperately trying to get back to their homes.
A middle-aged businessman whom T.R. Lanser interviewed for the London Observer (7.8.83) said “On Friday about noon a mob came to attack Tamil people in the hospital. A Tamil Inspector of Police who was visiting me was murdered, cut with knives, just as he was talking to me. He faced them and he gave us time. Even with this broken foot I ran and hid…”
Michael Hamlyn wrote in the London Times (1.8.83) “burnings and killings continued over the weekend despite a 60-hour curfew. The trouble spread on Saturday to Nuwara Eliya. There were further incidents of violence against Tamils and their property in Chilaw, Matale and Kalutara.
”There was a mass exodus of Tamils displaced from their homes. Thirty busloads of refugees were taken from a camp and embarked on a ship for the North.” The International Herald Tribune (15.8.83) in Paris quoted A. Amirthalingam leader of the TULF (Tamil United Liberation Front) and leader of the Opposition in Parliament, as saying that 2,000 people had died in two months of ethnic unrest. He said the figure included deaths in the whole island since anti-Tamil violence broke out in Trincomalee on June 3rd and culminated in riots throughout the island at the end of July.
Opinion
The Cream of the Earth: Why Sri Lanka needs a Fruit Consumers Movement
By Lalin I De Silva
Sri Lanka speaks constantly about hospitals, medicines, food imports, agricultural productivity and the rising cost of living. Yet there is one simple question we rarely ask:
Are we eating enough of the food that our own soil can naturally give us?
Fruit is perhaps one of the finest gifts of the earth to humankind. A ripe mango, banana, papaya, guava or avocado comes to us almost ready to eat. Sunlight, rain, soil, microorganisms, minerals and the labour of a farmer have already done most of the work.
That is why I like to describe fruit as the “cream of the earth.”
This is, of course, not an argument that fruit alone can prevent every disease, or guarantee longevity. Science does not support such exaggerated claims. But there is strong international evidence that regular consumption of fruits and vegetables forms an important part of a healthy diet and is associated with lower risks of several major non-communicable diseases.
Sri Lanka’s own dietary guidance encourages the daily consumption of fruit as part of a balanced diet.
The tragedy is that we live on an island capable of producing an extraordinary variety of fruits, while many families increasingly depend on highly processed foods, sugary drinks and imported snacks.
This deserves national attention.
We Produce — But Do We Connect?
Sri Lanka grows banana, mango, pineapple, papaya, avocado, rambutan, mangosteen, guava, woodapple, beli, pomegranate, durian and many lesser-known indigenous fruits.
Yet our fruit value chain remains fragmented.
The farmer often does not know the final consumer.
The consumer rarely knows the farmer.
Fruit travels through several intermediaries, sometimes suffering poor handling, unnecessary damage and price escalation along the way.
Consumers may not know where a fruit was grown, when it was harvested, whether it was naturally matured or what crop-protection practices were followed.
Meanwhile, a careful farmer, producing exceptional fruit, may receive almost the same farm-gate price as someone producing an inferior product.
That is not value-chain management.
It is precisely this disconnect that a new citizen-led initiative could begin to address.
25 Districts — 25 Consumer Societies
A proposal now emerging is to establish a Pure Sri Lankan Authentic Healthy Fruit Consumers Society in each of Sri Lanka’s 25 districts.
The concept should not become another organisation full of titles, meetings and ceremonial functions.
Its purpose must be practical.
Each district society could bring together consumers, growers, doctors, nutritionists, horticulturists, schools, universities, retailers, hotels, processors and young entrepreneurs.
The first task would be to understand the district itself.
What fruits are grown?
Where are they grown?
When are they available?
Which traditional varieties are disappearing?
Where can consumers purchase genuinely good fruits?
Where are the post-harvest losses?
What do farmers need?
What do consumers actually want?
From this information, each district could eventually develop its own Fruit Map.
Twenty-five district maps could then become a National Fruit Map of Sri Lanka.
From Anonymous Fruit to Traceable Fruit
Imagine buying a mango and scanning a QR code.
You could see the district, grower, variety, approximate harvest date and production information.
You could perhaps even provide feedback on taste.
That may sound futuristic, but the technology already exists.
The problem is not technology.
The problem is that our food system was never designed to connect the person who grows the fruit with the person who eats it.
Traceability could change that.
The principle is simple:
Know your farmer. Know your fruit.
Let the Consumer Lead
For decades, agriculture has largely been driven from the production side.
“How much can we produce?” has been the dominant question.
A healthier agricultural economy should begin with another question:
What does the consumer need, value and trust?
If thousands of consumers deliberately demand fresh, safe, flavorful and traceable Sri Lankan fruit, the message travels backwards through the entire value chain.
Retailers respond.
Farmers respond.
Nurseries respond.
Researchers respond.
Investors respond.
Government eventually has to respond.
That is the real power of an organised consumer movement.
Start With Children
Perhaps the most powerful campaign message could be remarkably simple:
Two Fruits a Day.
Imagine a Sri Lankan child coming home from school and asking:
“What are our fruits today?”
Imagine every school having a small fruit garden.
Imagine children being able to identify 10 Sri Lankan fruits, understand their seasons and know where they are grown.
Such behavioral change cannot be achieved merely by issuing circulars from Colombo.
It must become part of family culture.
Kandy Could Begin
Kandy would be a logical district in which to pilot the concept.
Its climatic diversity, surrounding agricultural communities, educational institutions, hotels, markets and strong plantation heritage provide an excellent testing ground.
A successful Kandy model could then be adapted—not blindly copied—across the other 24 districts.
The objective should ultimately be much larger than selling more fruit.
It is about reconnecting soil, farmer, food, consumer and health.
Sri Lanka does not need to invent every solution from outside.
Sometimes the answer may already be hanging from a tree beside us.
We simply have to recognise its value.
Know Your Farmer. Know Your Fruit. Live Well.
Opinion
‘Outpost of Empire’
Review
by Colleen Figg, Editor
and Reviewer – Amazon, New Voices Publishing
“Fernando echoes Macbeth with the line, “There is judgment here.” It captures the question running through the novel: can anyone participate in corruption and remain untouched by it? Beneath this satire is a dark story about power and the danger of believing, that someone else will always pay the price.”
Shavindra Fernando’s Outpost of Empire is a political novel set in the fictional country of Lackadasia. At its heart is a strong idea: an exploration of world politics, terrorism and the ways in which powerful countries manipulate smaller ones. Fernando is clearly writing about political issues that matter deeply to him.
The names immediately establish the book’s satirical character. Lackadasia, Burgherbugaria and the various Klowns suggest a world in which the people and places are exaggerated, but the issues beneath the exaggeration are recognisable. The playful language allows Fernando to approach terrorism, religious conflict and political corruption from an unusual angle.
Henry Stockwell is a central character: an ambassador who arrives in Lackadasia presenting himself as a friend of the country. He believes he understands how power works and treats the country, its politicians and its people as pawns on his personal chessboard. In his arrogance, he never doubts that he controls events rather than being controlled by them. This confidence makes him a compelling figure and in him, we explore the workings of political influence and the potential traps contained therein.
As the story develops, Fernando reveals a political world where causes are adopted when they are useful, people are exploited and discarded, and the truth becomes whatever those in power need it to be. Ordinary people suffer the consequences of decisions made far beyond their reach or knowledge, while those making those decisions continue to justify their actions. Even the people who help keep this world running may not be as important or as safe as they imagine.
Stockwell brings this idea into focus. He recognises corruption in others and willingly takes part in it himself, yet he cannot see that he might also suffer its consequences. Ultimately, he thinks his position will keep him safe. He is intelligent enough to understand the game, but not insightful enough to grasp the limits of his place within it. This blindness gives the novel a strong sense of irony.
The satirical approach gives Fernando room to criticise political hypocrisy without turning the novel into a direct political argument. By using fictional countries and exaggerated names, he creates some distance from specific governments and events while still making the larger targets of the book clear. The humour does not take away from the seriousness of the subject; instead, it makes the cruelty and self-interest beneath the political performance stand out more sharply.
Near the end, Fernando echoes Macbeth with the line, “There is judgment here.” It captures the question running through the novel: can anyone participate in corruption and remain untouched by it? Beneath this satire is a dark story about power and the danger of believing that someone else will always pay the price.
I came away feeling that Outpost of Empire is a valuable and thought-provoking book, particularly in today’s political and social climate. It has a distinctive voice, and the questions it raises about power, responsibility and foreign interference remain relevant far beyond the fictional borders of Lackadasia.
About the Author
Shavindra Fernando has worked as a reporter. He read English & Classics at the University of Peradeniya in Sri Lanka, and took International Relations & Ethnic Politics as a Reuter Fellow at the University of Oxford in England. The Vague Poetess (1999)was his first novel.
Opinion
Speaker’s dilemma
The Opposition, in its wisdom (or perhaps stupidity), has submitted yet another No-Confidence Motion (NCM) against the Speaker of Parliament. Perhaps it hopes to score some brownie points in the eyes of the public, which is hardly indifferent to such developments. Yet, knowing full well that the motion is unlikely to succeed, the exercise may well prove futile — akin to banging one’s head against a solid rock.
Nevertheless, the nearly fifty allegations levelled against the Speaker, whether justified or mere mudslinging, cannot simply be brushed aside. Such allegations may well have a bearing on the individual concerned, particularly where it matters most — his conscience — and few would dispute that possibility.
From a protocol standpoint, the Speaker occupies one of the highest positions in the country, ranking third in the hierarchy of state. He consequently belongs to the uppermost echelons of public life, with acquaintances and associates extending across a wide spectrum of society, including diplomats and other distinguished personalities. Such a position carries with it not merely prestige and privilege, but also an onerous responsibility to uphold the dignity and integrity of the office.
As the guardian of Parliament, the Speaker is expected to maintain standards of conduct, impartiality and discipline that are beyond reproach.
Whether the allegations are justifiable or not may be of little consequence to members of the ruling party, who will undoubtedly defend their colleague to the hilt. Nevertheless, the stigma arising from such allegations may prove difficult to erase, particularly in the eyes of his family, close associates and, ultimately, the voters who placed their trust in him. Of course, it is common knowledge that politics can be a dirty game and that, as Lord Acton famously observed, “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Yet, nothing could be more devastating than a person losing his own soul in the process. On the one hand, stepping down could be construed as an admission of responsibility for the allegations levelled against him. On the other, allowing the No-Confidence Motion (NCM) to proceed could expose him to further public scrutiny and potentially inflict lasting damage on his character, dignity and reputation. Thus, he finds himself caught between two unenviable choices, each carrying consequences that may extend far beyond the immediate political fallout.
The Speaker is therefore confronted with a classic Hobson’s choice, with neither option likely to be without consequences. After all, in politics, there are no permanent friends or enemies—only permanent interests.
WILLIAM
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