Jonathan Steele in Kilinochchi, Friday December 17, 2004
Come to Elephant Pass to witness a rarity: a place where the contradictions of the "war on terror" have not produced the usual regression.
In most of the world the fight against "international terrorism" has had negative effects. In western Europe it has led to restrictions on civil liberties, including prolonged detention without trial. In the US it has created an unprecedented sense of fear, manipulated by politicians. In Russia the authorities have used it to prolong a vicious war against Chechen separatists.
But
here
in
northern
Sri
Lanka,
a
group
that
Britain,
the
US
and
other
western
governments
label
terrorists
administers
a
huge
chunk
of
land
with
its
own
police
and
courts.
These
self-same
governments
not
only
give
no
help
towards
crushing
this
enclave,
they
accept
its
existence,
pump
in
aid
money
through
UN
agencies,
and
urge
the
Sri
Lankan
government
to
negotiate
with
its
leaders.
The reason? Western states realise that, although the group has used terrorist methods and assassinates Tamils who criticise it, it has widespread popular support and makes legitimate demands.
To view this example of common sense in a world that has gone hysterical over "terror", you drive south from Jaffna, Sri Lanka's northernmost city. Dozens of army posts and sandbagged gun emplacements line the potholed road up to a no man's land where bored monitors from the international committee of the Red Cross watch the trouble-free crossing points.
Then you enter the territory controlled by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam after two decades of armed struggle to safeguard the rights of Sri Lanka's Tamil minority. Parliamentary efforts to curb discrimination by the majority Sinhalese have long since failed.
Four years ago the causeway known as Elephant Pass saw one of the bloodiest battles of modern times. This was not the usual asymmetrical warfare of a hi-tech airforce bombing targets in densely populated areas (Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq) but more akin to the first world war. Young guerrillas waded through swamps under heavy artillery to capture army outposts in deserted countryside. More than 10,000 died on both sides.
The strategic result of the Tigers' victory was stunning. The government accepted a ceasefire that was brokered by Norwegian diplomats, and the Tigers were left in control of large areas where Sri Lanka's Tamils live.
Because it pioneered the use of suicide bombing that killed scores of civilians in the 90s, the Tigers were put on international lists of "terrorist organisations." That does not prevent the Tigers' chief negotiator from living in London, meeting diplomats and addressing the Tamil diaspora. Nor has it stopped Britain's high commissioner from travelling to the Tigers' capital in Kilinochchi. US officials take the road to Jaffna that passes through "Tiger country" and when they stop for a rest just happen to find themselves in contact.
If the outside world treats the issue with intelligence and sensitivity, the same cannot be said for the Sri Lankan parties. After six rounds of peace talks on Tamil autonomy, face-to-face negotiations facilitated by Norway collapsed last year. The government then fell in an election in which the opposition claimed too many concessions had been made.
Although the new government, led by President Chandrika Kumaratunga, claims it shares its predecessors' willingness to negotiate, talks have not resumed. Meanwhile, tens of thousands of displaced civilians have seen little or no peace dividend. Money promised by the government to rebuild damaged homes is held back. Tamil villagers and fishermen cannot return to land sealed off by the army.
Now even the ceasefire is under question. Last month the Tigers' leader said that if delays continue, "we [will] have no alternative than to advance the freedom struggle of our nation." Some saw this as an ultimatum for a return to war, but SP Thamilselvan, the head of the Tigers' political section and the Norwegian facilitators' main contact, told me: "It doesn't express any suggestion of a deadline, but the leadership has a responsibility to convey to the world that Tamil people have touched the fringe of their impatience."
For the outside world, the crisis is a lesson in the importance of far-sighted political leadership. Sri Lanka has so much going for it. It has a vibrant parliamentary democracy. No foreign powers are interfering. Tourists flood to its beaches. But the Sinhalese elite seems unable to embrace change. A coalition between the two largest Sinhalese parties could end the immediate deadlock easily. It is blocked by absurd personal rivalries between the president and the opposition leader.
Even if they were to agree on sensible terms for negotiations with the Tigers, both parties would have a huge task. They have failed to lobby the Sinhalese electorate and to argue the case that without an end to ethnic discrimination and without genuine power-sharing with Tamils, the island is doomed to violence.
The one hopeful sign is that war is not imminent. Neither the government nor the Tigers want a return to bloodletting. But communities can drift into war, regardless. Only strong leadership can prevent it.
The Guardian