Paths to Peace

The conflict is over but peace seems more elusive every day.

The defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) by the Sri Lankan military in May 2009 provided a unique opportunity for the resolution of a seemingly intractable conflict, one that had dragged on for more than 25 years. However, recent developments suggest that a lasting political solution seems more distant than ever. The passing of the 18th amendment to Sri Lanka’s constitution is a serious threat to the health of democracy on the island, and it clearly links any progress on political reform with the actions of the ruling administration.

To get some context, the recently concluded civil war was merely the most visible (and violent) manifestation of a political struggle between the majority Sinhalese and minority Tamils that dates back to the 1950s. Resort to armed violence came rather late in the game. The LTTE was only formed in the 1970s, and only become a serious military challenge in the mid-1980s. Likewise, the demand for a separate Tamil homeland, Eelam, in the North and East of Sri Lanka became the basis for struggle only in 1976. Prior to this, non-violent parliamentary struggle focused on a federal solution. By May 2009, the LTTE may have been the predominant organization fighting on behalf of the Tamils, as a self-coined “sole representative,” but its demise does not eradicate the underlying causes of struggle.

Upon the military victory, President Mahinda Rajapakse announced that there were no minorities, only Sri Lankans – “There are only two peoples in this country. One is the people that love this country. The other comprises the small groups that have no love for the land of their birth. Those who do not love the country are now a lesser group.” Whatever the intention or motivation of the president’s statement, little that has happened since suggests that a new, more inclusive Sri Lanka is being born. Instead, reneging on his promise to dismantle the executive president, the 18th amendment sees Rajapakse’s administration take steps that clearly veer away from democracy. Rushed through Parliament and the Supreme Court as an urgent bill and passed on September 9 amid acrimony, crossovers, and politicking, the amendment sees the removal of term limits for the president and the dissolution of the Constitutional Council, set up to depoliticize appointments to the police, judiciary, public service, and electoral commissions. In its place, a Parliamentary Council will provide the president with its observations for filling key positions. This is hardly a satisfactory limit on unchecked powers. Especially given the fact that the executive presidency in Sri Lanka is already excessively strong and has led civil society organizations and activist groups to suggest the state is on the verge of a constitutional dictatorship.

In this scenario, a political settlement looks more remote than ever. By dint of the new constitutional amendment, President Rajapakse is not in need of the powers necessary to make tough political decisions. While admittedly, both his words and deeds to date suggest such a move is unlikely to be towards placating minority fears, September 21 marks the International Day of Peace and it is an opportune moment to look forward and seek solutions, and, indeed, reject those strategies that are wholly insufficient or inappropriate. To begin with, the status quo is untenable. In the parlance of scholars interested in ethnic conflict management, the post-independence Sri Lankan state has been one that can be characterized as a control regime or ethnocracy whereby ethnic domination is the clearest manifestation of the ruling institutions. Such conditions are not unknown in democracies. However, ethnic domination ultimately leads to contestation, on an escalating scale, evidenced by the civil war. There is no reason to expect that this will change with the LTTE’s demise. The strategies will change, contestation will not. Furthermore, from the point of view of normative justice, it is a wholly unsatisfactory state of affairs for the island’s minorities, which number close to 20 per cent of the population. As a result, moreover, any solution that attempts to substitute comprehensive fundamental rights for substantive political reform is also likely to fail. This is not only because of fears of implementation but because, if history is any guide, calls for an integrated Sri Lankan identity usually mask an agenda that firmly promotes one identity above others.

The only viable path to peace is through the implementation of substantive political reform. This should be obvious and yet has been avoided for decades, either rejected out of hand or implemented imperfectly. It is futile to suggest the exact political package to solve the island’s myriad problems, assuming that such a beast even exists. A key aspect would be divesting the centre of some of its powers and ensuring some level of self-rule at the regional level, self-rule that is meaningful and tailored to the particular needs of the respective communities.

The conflict management toolkit has a number of options that would be useful here, from a federacy to asymmetrical federalism to a more complex power-sharing arrangement. However, as it stands, any first step, however modest, would be useful, allowing for incremental changes in the future. The most important challenge is a change in mindset, away from consolidating majoritarian power to accepting minority grievances and decoupling it from the demands associated with the LTTE. This begins with completing the resettlement and reconstruction process, and ensuring that it is not politically-motivated. The complications there are too lengthy to detail here. Yet, it is not far-fetched to suggest that the signs of a changed mindset would begin there before tackling issues of political reform. Every indication suggests, however, that the priorities of the present administration lie elsewhere.