10/10/2025

On International Women’s Day, the world celebrates women’s empowerment — often in the form of speeches, corporate slogans, and symbolic gestures. But for the Tamil nation, empowerment is not a matter of ceremony; it is a story of sacrifice, resistance, and rebirth. It is embodied in the life and death of Second Lt. Malathy, the first female fighter of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) to lay down her life in combat.

The Birth of a Revolutionary Woman

Second Lt. Malathy was born in Mannar, Tamil Eelam, a region known for its coastal beauty and deep history of resistance. From this land of fishermen, farmers, and freedom fighters, she emerged as one of the first women to take up arms for her people’s liberation. Her birthplace, often marked by both cultural richness and the scars of war, shaped her understanding of injustice and resilience — grounding her lifelong commitment to the struggle for Tamil Eelam.

Malathy was more than a soldier — she was the dawn of a new era for Tamil women. Born into a community enduring systemic persecution, she saw firsthand the occupation, displacement, and humiliation faced by her people. When oppression became unbearable, she chose to resist — not as a bystander, but as a revolutionary.

Her death on October 10, 1987, during the Indian military assault on Jaffna, transformed her into an eternal symbol of Tamil women’s resistance. From that day forward, she was not merely mourned; she was immortalised. Her courage signified that Tamil women would no longer be confined to the margins of history — they would write it themselves.

The Malathy Brigade — A Legacy of Fire

Her legacy lived on through the Malathy Brigade, one of the two brigades of the LTTE’s Women’s Wing. This unit became a powerful emblem of equality and discipline — a force that shattered centuries of patriarchy and colonial subjugation. Tamil women, once dismissed as victims, now commanded entire battalions. They fought not only against the Sri Lankan state but against the very social structures that denied them freedom.

A memorial statue was built in 2004 in Kilinochchi to honour her memory — a bronze embodiment of sacrifice and womanhood. It stood tall until it was destroyed by the Sri Lankan military after occupying Kilinochchi. But even in its destruction, the monument’s message survived: you can demolish stone, but you cannot erase a nation’s memory.

Malathy’s death was commemorated across the North-East as Women’s Uprising Day**, celebrated in the de-facto Tamil Eelam state. It was a day when women renewed their commitment to justice, freedom, and equality. Her story was not that of tragedy — it was the birth of collective determination.

Redefining Feminism Through Struggle

The women of Tamil Eelam did not inherit feminism from textbooks or foreign movements; they created it through lived struggle. Second Lt. Malathy was not fighting to prove equality — she was living it. On the battlefield, there was no gender, only comradeship and conviction.

As Methagu Velupillai Prabhakaran once said:

⁠“Malathy’s sacrifice opened a new chapter in the history of Tamil women — she showed that women too can fight and die for freedom.”

Her sacrifice became the moral foundation upon which Tamil women’s liberation was built. She was not seeking validation from the world — she was fighting to protect her homeland, her language, and her people.

Her Power and Determination

Malathy’s determination was rooted in justice, not vengeance. She believed that true power came from dignity and discipline — from the ability to stand unbroken even when surrounded by violence. Under her name, Tamil women learned to rebuild schools amid bombings, run hospitals during air raids, and defend their homeland with unwavering courage.

She symbolised the transformation of Tamil womanhood— from silenced victims to fearless leaders. The LTTE’s women’s wings were not symbolic; they were operational, disciplined, and intellectual forces. They were teachers, medics, engineers, and soldiers — all driven by the spirit of Malathy.

Women’s Day Beyond Words

Across the world, Women’s Day is often reduced to social media posts and speeches about equality. But for Tamil women, it is a reminder of Malathy — a woman who gave her life so others could live with dignity.

Even today, in the militarised homeland of Tamil Eelam, women continue to lead— mothers of the disappeared, activists, journalists, and survivors who resist daily under the weight of surveillance, occupation, and systemic violence. Their fight is the continuation of Malathy’s uprising.

A Call to Action

On this Women’s Day, let us remember that Malathy’s strength did not die with her. It lives on in every Tamil woman who refuses to bow down — in every mother still searching for her disappeared child, in every student speaking truth to power, in every young girl who dreams of a free Tamil Eelam.

True empowerment is not given — it is claimed.
Malathy showed the world that liberation begins when women stop asking for permission to be free.

Today, the land that once birthed Malathy’s revolution has been silenced under occupation and political hypocrisy. In Tamil Eelam, women who once led the frontlines of liberation are now being pushed back into the confines of traditional roles — expected to serve, not lead. The very parties that claim to represent Tamil interests — whether in Tamil Eelam or in the diaspora — have failed to carry forward the legacy of women’s empowerment built through struggle and sacrifice. Instead of elevating women into positions of leadership, they reproduce the same patriarchal and caste-based hierarchies that the liberation movement sought to dismantle. Our people have grown comfortable celebrating the memory of women like Malathy while ignoring the living women who continue to fight today — in the courts, on the streets, and in exile. True honour to Malathy’s name will come not from memorials alone, but from restoring the revolutionary space for Tamil women to lead once again, politically, socially, and nationally.

Her story is not history — it is prophecy.
And her flame still burns — in the hearts of all who refuse to surrender.

The UN’s October 6 Resolution: A Legal Betrayal That Legitimises Genocide in Tamil Eelam- 08/10/2025

A Resolution Draped in Diplomacy, Built on Denial
On 6 October 2025, the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) adopted Resolution 60/L.1, “Promoting Reconciliation, Accountability and Human Rights in Sri Lanka.” Though clothed in human-rights language, the resolution represents a grave betrayal of international law and of the Tamil people’s right to justice and self-determination.
By “reaffirming the sovereignty, independence, unity and territorial integrity of Sri Lanka”, the UN has once again reinforced the structure that enabled the genocide itself. This affirmation is not neutral; it is a legal and political endorsement of the state that exterminated tens of thousands of Tamils at the peak of the genocide in 2009 and continues that destruction through militarisation, land grabs, and demographic engineering.
Under the Genocide Convention (1948), every state and the UN as a whole have an erga omnes obligation to prevent and punish genocide. By legitimising the Sri Lankan state without accountability, this resolution breaches that duty and converts human-rights rhetoric into complicity.

Genocide Reframed as “Reconciliation”
The resolution’s constant invocation of reconciliation conceals an ongoing genocide. There was never a “civil war” between equal parties; there was, and remains, a state-driven campaign to destroy the Tamil nation.
At the peak of the genocide in 2009, the Sri Lankan military executed surrendering civilians, shelled hospitals and “No-Fire Zones,” and starved entire populations in deliberate violation of the Geneva Conventions. More than 70,000 Tamils were killed in months. These acts constitute actus reus of genocide under Article II (c) and (d) of the Convention.
Yet Resolution 60/L.1 speaks of “shared pain” and “divisive politics” — language that erases the asymmetry between victims and perpetrators. Equating the genocidal state with the people it annihilated is not reconciliation; it is legal revisionism.

Sovereignty Versus the Right to Self-Determination
By reaffirming Sri Lanka’s “territorial integrity,” the UNHRC denies the Tamil nation’s jus cogens right to self-determination, recognised in Article 1 of both the ICCPR and ICESCR and upheld by the ICJ in the East Timor Case (1995). Sovereignty cannot shield atrocity. The UN Charter (Arts 1(2), 55) and the Declaration on Friendly Relations (1970) forbid invoking sovereignty to justify repression.
The Thirteenth Amendment, celebrated in the resolution, offers token devolution within a unitary Sinhala-Buddhist state and has never delivered autonomy. True reconciliation cannot occur under the very constitution that entrenches Tamil subjugation.

From 2009 to 2025: Laws Weaponised Against Eelam Tamils
1.⁠ ⁠The Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA)
Despite promises of reform, the PTA (1979) remains the principal tool of oppression. It allows detention without trial, broad definitions of “terrorism,” and confessions under duress. Since 2009, hundreds of Tamils — including journalists, poets, and students — have been arrested under it. The UNHRC’s own resolution “welcoming” plans to repeal it ignores that detentions continue even in 2025.
2.⁠ ⁠The Anti-Terrorism Bill (2023–2025)
Marketed as PTA reform, the draft Anti-Terrorism Bill expands presidential and military powers, criminalises peaceful dissent, and allows indefinite detention. The OHCHR (2024) warned it could “further curtail civic space.” For Tamils in the North-East, this codifies permanent militarised control under a veneer of legality.
3.⁠ ⁠Online Safety Act (2024)
This law empowers a government-appointed commission to remove online posts, prosecute “false statements,” and silence journalists. In practice, it targets Tamil activists documenting war crimes. It violates Article 19 ICCPR and the right to political expression central to self-determination movements.
4.⁠ ⁠Land and Archaeology Laws
Through the Forest Conservation Ordinance, Antiquities Ordinance, and Department of Archaeology regulations, the state has seized Tamil farmland and temple lands, re-designating them as “Buddhist heritage zones.” This is cultural genocide: destruction of identity through legal instruments.
5.⁠ ⁠Office on Missing Persons Act (2016) and Commission for Reparations Act (2018)
These were established to placate international scrutiny but lack prosecutorial power and independence. Tamil mothers have protested for over 3,000 days demanding truth about their disappeared children. No prosecutions have followed. These institutions exist to delay justice, not deliver it.
6.⁠ ⁠Economic and Administrative Discrimination
Post-war economic and fiscal laws centralise resources under Colombo, depriving Tamil regions of development and welfare. Military-run businesses dominate the North-East, violating the right to livelihood and equal access to public goods under Article 2 ICESCR.
Together, these measures reveal a pattern: legality as a weapon of control. Law in Sri Lanka does not protect Tamils; it criminalises their existence.

The Myth of Domestic Accountability
Successive commissions — from the Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission to the Office for Missing Persons — have served as instruments of impunity. Not a single senior military official has been prosecuted for crimes committed at the peak of the genocide in 2009.
Under Articles 13(b) and 14 of the Rome Statute, when a state is unwilling or unable to prosecute, international mechanisms must intervene. Yet the UNHRC continues to “welcome engagement” instead of invoking Chapter VIIreferral powers or recommending ICC jurisdiction. This refusal violates the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) principle adopted in 2005.

Why Reconciliation Will Never Work
Reconciliation presumes equality. There can be none while the Tamil homeland remains under occupation. The International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility (Art. 41) forbid states from recognising or assisting situations arising from breaches of peremptory norms such as genocide.
Thus, any UN resolution that re-legitimises Sri Lanka’s sovereignty without dismantling its genocidal structure is itself unlawful. Reconciliation without accountability is not peace — it is continuing harm.

The Legal Path Forward
1.⁠ ⁠Recognise the ongoing genocide under the 1948 Genocide Convention.
2.⁠ ⁠Refer Sri Lanka to the ICC or establish a special tribunal under Article 13(b) Rome Statute.
3.⁠ ⁠Suspend all reconciliation frameworks until the Tamil homeland is demilitarised and political prisoners released.
4.⁠ ⁠Affirm the right of Tamil Eelam to self-determination as a remedy to structural genocide.
Only these steps align with international legal obligations.

Conclusion: Justice, Not Reconciliation
The October 6 2025 UNHRC Resolution does not signal progress; it codifies impunity. Its praise for Sri Lanka’s “commitments” ignores sixteen years of deceit. Its talk of “unity” masks militarised domination.
As long as the UN legitimises reconciliation under a genocidal constitution, it betrays the very law it was founded to defend.
Justice for Tamil Eelam will not come through the politics of denial. It will come through recognition of the genocide, prosecution of those responsible, and the restoration of sovereignty to a nation that has survived humanity’s gravest crime.

Thiyaga Theepam Lt Col. Thileepan

26/09/2025

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s Hunger Strike: A Compass for the Tamil Nation

In September 1987, Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan (Rasiah Parthipan) of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam undertook a hunger strike in the courtyard of the Nallur Kandaswamy Temple. For eleven days, he refused food and water. On 26 September, his body collapsed. But his act of defiance still burns as one of the most political moments in Tamil history.

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan did not fast for pity or symbolic remembrance. He turned his own body into the battlefield when all other avenues of political struggle were blocked — betrayed by India, ignored by the Sinhala state, and abandoned by the so-called international community. His act was a declaration that Tamil sovereignty is non-negotiable.

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s Demands: Still Our Demands Today

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s five demands were precise, political, and uncompromising:

The release of all Tamil political prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA).

An end to Sinhala colonisation of Tamil land.

Suspension of so-called “rehabilitation” until Tamils achieved self-rule through an interim administration.

A halt to the expansion of Sinhala police stations and military camps in Tamil Eelam.

The withdrawal of armed forces from Tamil schools and the disarmament of homeguards.

Nearly four decades later, these demands remain unfulfilled — in fact, conditions have only worsened.

The PTA is still alive, rebranded and reinforced as a tool of terror against Tamils.

Colonisation has deepened, with Sinhala settlers brought into the north and east, and Tamil land grabbed under archaeology, forestry, and fisheries departments.

Militarisation suffocates daily life, with one soldier for every four Tamils in some districts. Camps still occupy farmland, checkpoints block mobility, and the army profits from tourism and business on stolen land.

Temples are erased, Hindu sites demolished and replaced by Buddhist shrines as part of a cultural genocide.

Tamil schools remain under occupation, with military surveillance hanging over the next generation.

 Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s five demands were not answered in 1987. They remain the urgent demands of 2025.

The UN’s Resolutions: A Machinery of Betrayal

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s fast was also a warning: that Tamils must never put blind faith in external powers. This truth has been proven again with the latest Human Rights Council draft resolution on Sri Lanka

HRC 60 Sri Lanka Rev1 to table …

The UN’s Resolutions: A Machinery of Betrayal

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s fast was also a warning: that Tamils must never put blind faith in external powers. In 1987, he understood that the so-called “international community” would always prioritise the stability of the Sinhala state over the freedom of the Tamil nation. That truth has been proven once again with the latest Human Rights Council draft resolution on Sri Lanka

HRC 60 Sri Lanka Rev1 to table …

The resolution “reaffirms the sovereignty, independence, unity and territorial integrity of Sri Lanka.” This wording is not neutral diplomatic language — it is the political core of the betrayal. By reaffirming Sri Lanka’s territorial integrity, the UN explicitly denies the Tamil people their right to self-determination under international law. It erases the fact that Tamils constitute a distinct nation with their own homeland, identity, and history of governance. It cements Sri Lanka’s genocidal claim over Tamil Eelam, legitimising a state that has used its sovereignty not for protection of rights, but as a shield to wage a seventy-five-year campaign of disenfranchisement, colonisation, and mass atrocity. In effect, the resolution affirms the sovereignty of the perpetrator while negating the sovereignty of the victims.

The resolution further “welcomes” Sri Lanka’s supposed commitments: to repeal the PTA, to amend laws like the Online Safety Act, to reopen emblematic cases, and to establish new prosecutorial bodies. But Tamils know these are not reforms — they are recycled tactics of delay. The PTA has not been repealed. Detentions under this draconian law continue, disproportionately targeting Tamils and Muslims. Colonisation and militarisation intensify, with Tamil farmers pushed from their lands while Sinhala settlers are supported by the state. Families of the disappeared — many of them mothers who have been protesting for over 3,000 days — are still denied truth, justice, or even acknowledgement of where their loved ones are. Yet the UN resolution “welcomes” these empty promises, legitimising impunity and offering political cover to the Sri Lankan government.

Even more dangerous is the resolution’s framing of accountability. It insists on responsibility for “all parties,” equating the Tamil national liberation struggle with the genocidal actions of the Sri Lankan state. This false equivalence is not just an insult but a political weapon. It criminalises Tamil resistance, delegitimises the sacrifices of figures like Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan, and distorts history to suggest that genocide was a “two-sided conflict.” In reality, the Sri Lankan state has always been the architect of structural genocide: from the disenfranchisement of 1948, to pogroms in 1956, 1958, 1977, and 1983, to the massacres, disappearances, and bombardments culminating in 2009 and beyond. By drawing an equivalence, the UN is rewriting history to absolve the state and condemn the struggle for liberation.

Even where the resolution acknowledges grave realities — such as mass graves and enforced disappearances — it empties them of meaning by keeping control in the hands of Colombo. It urges only that the government “seek international support” to conduct exhumations and investigations. This is the same failed formula the world has pushed for decades: entrusting the criminal to investigate his own crimes. Sri Lanka has proven again and again that it will never deliver accountability for atrocities it committed. Every mass grave is evidence of genocide, yet under this framework, they become just another bureaucratic process managed by the perpetrators themselves.

Everything in this resolution stands in direct contradiction to the struggle of  Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan. His hunger strike was a rejection of sham reforms, of fake accountability, and of foreign powers dictating Tamil destiny. His five demands are ignored, his sacrifice is erased, and his politics are distorted. While he demanded immediate, tangible changes to protect the Tamil people, the UN resolution offers only vague commitments, diplomatic appeasement, and a reaffirmation of the genocidal state.

The UN resolution shows us what  Thiyaga Theepam  Lt. Col. Thileepan already knew: international institutions will never prioritise Tamil rights above state sovereignty. Just as India betrayed him in 1987, so too has the UN betrayed us in 2025. The lesson is clear: sovereignty cannot be won through resolutions. It must be fought for through organised Tamil struggle.

We must also question everything that is being said — not only in the hollow language of UN resolutions, but also in the words of leaders who present themselves as defenders of justice. Sri Lanka’s current President, Anura Kumara Dissanayake, has recently spoken passionately about the Palestinian struggle, condemning occupation, displacement, and the denial of a people’s right to self-determination. In his speeches, he invokes the language of international law and human rights, speaking of state oppression, colonial domination, and the moral duty of the world to act. Yet when it comes to the Eelam Tamils — his own citizens who have lived through the same realities of dispossession, pogroms, mass graves, enforced disappearances, and permanent military occupation — he is silent. More than silent: he presides over and benefits from the same genocidal structures that continue to suffocate Tamil Eelam.

This hypocrisy is not accidental. By raising Palestine, President Anura gains credibility on the international stage as a progressive, rights-conscious leader. But by erasing Eelam Tamils, he upholds the very foundation of the Sinhala state — its claim of sovereignty over the Tamil homeland. He uses the suffering of Palestinians as political capital abroad, while denying the same principles of justice to the Tamils at home. How can Anura denounce Israeli settlements while defending Sinhala colonisation in the north and east? How can he demand accountability for Palestinian deaths while ignoring 300,000 Tamils starved in 2009, or the tens of thousands disappeared whose mothers still protest for answers? The contradiction is glaring: his solidarity is performative, his outrage selective, and his politics designed to mask one genocide while condemning another.

This is why  Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s hunger strike remains so relevant today. His fast was a rejection of such selective politics. He demanded universality in justice — that Tamil rights could not be postponed, traded, or erased for diplomatic convenience. Where Anura speaks of justice abroad but denies it at home, Thiyaga Theepam Lt Col Thileepan embodied the principle that sovereignty is not negotiable, whether for Palestinians or for Tamils. His sacrifice forces us to see through the hypocrisy of leaders and institutions: if they speak of Palestine but not of Tamil Eelam, if they condemn one occupation while protecting another, then their words are empty. For Tamils, the lesson is clear: we cannot rely on the conscience of presidents or parliaments. We must rely on our own organised struggle, just as  Thiyaga Theepam Lt Col Thileepan taught us.

The Meaning of  Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s Hunger Strike

To grasp the depth of Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s act is to recognise that a hunger strike is not weakness — it is the highest form of strength. When every door is closed, the body itself becomes the weapon. Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan transformed his suffering into political clarity, showing the world that Tamils would not plead for survival but demand justice and sovereignty.

Methagu Velupillai Prabhakaran understood this when he said:

“Thileepan is a symbol of the moral power of our struggle. With nothing but the strength of his conviction, he shook the conscience of the world.”

But the conscience of the world did not act. That means the lesson of Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s fast is not that we should wait for the world, but that we must rely only on ourselves.

Against Symbolism Without Struggle

Yet today, in the diaspora, remembrance of Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan has too often been reduced to ritual. Lighting lamps, sharing posts, fasting for a day, or organising cultural events without political strategy — this is not resistance. This is betrayal.

If you do not defend the Tamil Eelam national flag, if you do not openly fight for sovereignty, then you are not following  Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan. To strip his hunger strike of politics and turn it into empty ceremony is to mock his sacrifice.

The Sinhala state is not threatened by Instagram stories. Colonisation does not stop because of hashtags. Militarisation does not end because you starve for 24 hours. Resistance must be organised, uncompromising, and political.

The Diaspora’s Responsibility: A Nation in Exile

The Tamil diaspora is not powerless. We are a nation in exile — with resources, political access, and freedom denied to those living under occupation. But we are divided: by party rivalries, NGO agendas, and host-state pressures.

This division is the greatest gift to the Sri Lankan state. It weakens our struggle and dilutes our demands.

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s hunger strike was not for division. It was for unity. He put the nation above himself. Today, the diaspora must do the same: put Tamil Eelam above personal interest, above reconciliation projects, above shallow activism.

To honour Thiyaga Theepam Lt Col. Thileepan, the diaspora must:

Unite across continents under the uncompromising banner of Tamil Eelam.

Pressure parliaments and governments worldwide to recognise genocide and reject reconciliation fraud.

Build institutions in exile — schools, media, legal councils — that preserve Tamil identity and history.

Organise boycotts and campaigns that weaken Sri Lanka’s propaganda.

Forge solidarity with Palestinians, Kurds, Rohingya, West Papuans, and others fighting state erasure.

Unity is not optional. It is survival.

A Compass for the Present

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s hunger strike is not just history. It is a compass. It shows us where to go and how to fight.

Sovereignty, not symbolism.

Unity, not division.

Struggle, not compromise.

The truth is clear: If you are not fighting for Tamil Eelam, you are not following Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan. If you are not standing for the flag, you are not following Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan. If you reduce his sacrifice to ritual, you betray him.

Conclusion: Our Fight is Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s Fight

Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan gave his life not to be remembered with pity, but to arm us with a political vision. His hunger strike exposed betrayal by India, by the Sinhala state, and by the world. Today, if we reduce his sacrifice to performance or divide ourselves into factions, we become part of that betrayal.

Our fight — in 2025, in exile and in the homeland — is the fight of Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan. To live his legacy is to fight with clarity, unity, and courage for nothing less than Tamil Eelam.

Because Thiyaga Theepam Lt. Col. Thileepan’s fast not for pity. It was for power. And that power must now be lived by us.

Long live Tamil Eelam

• Renuga Inpakumar 

The Krishanthy Case and Chemmani Mass Graves: A Human Rights Legal Analysis of Genocide

07/09/2025

Introduction

On 7 September 1996, eighteen-year-old Krishanthy Kumaraswamy was detained at a military checkpoint in Kaithady, Jaffna. She was raped by several members of the Sri Lankan Army and subsequently murdered. When her mother, younger brother, and neighbour attempted to locate her, they too were killed and buried in shallow graves. It has been 29 years. The case quickly gained international attention, not only because of the horrific crimes committed against a schoolgirl and her family, but because it exposed deeper truths about the nature of the Sri Lankan state’s campaign in Tamil Eelam.

The subsequent trial of six soldiers, four of whom received death sentences, was presented by the government as proof of accountability. Yet the proceedings did not stop with the punishment of individual soldiers. During the trial, Lance Corporal Somaratne Rajapakse disclosed that hundreds of Tamil civilians had been executed and buried in mass graves at Chemmani. His testimony drew a direct line from Krishanthy’s case to a broader system of enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, and sexual violence against the Tamil population. The legal implications of these revelations are profound: they point not merely to violations of domestic criminal law, but to systematic breaches of international human rights law, international humanitarian law, and the Genocide Convention.

International Human Rights Law

The rape and murder of Krishanthy, coupled with the killings of her family members, constituted a violation of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), to which Sri Lanka is a state party. Article 6 enshrines the inherent right to life, which may not be arbitrarily deprived. The execution of civilians at a military checkpoint, without due process or justification, is a direct breach of this obligation. Article 7 prohibits torture and cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment. International jurisprudence, including Aydin v Turkey (European Court of Human Rights, 1997), has made clear that rape by state actors constitutes torture. In addition, Article 2(3) obligates states to ensure that victims have an effective remedy. The prosecution of a handful of low-ranking soldiers, while leaving their commanders untouched, represents a denial of this duty.

The Convention Against Torture (CAT), ratified by Sri Lanka in 1994, also places binding obligations on the state. Article 2 makes clear that no exceptional circumstances, including war or public emergency, can justify torture. Article 12 requires the state to investigate allegations of torture promptly and impartially, and Article 13 ensures the right of victims and their families to complain and have their cases examined. The state’s failure to investigate the role of commanding officers, despite direct testimony pointing to their involvement, violates these provisions.

Furthermore, under the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), Sri Lanka has an obligation to take all appropriate measures to eliminate discrimination against women, which includes gender-based violence. General Recommendation 19 of the CEDAW Committee explicitly recognises gender-based violence as a form of discrimination. By failing to protect Tamil women from systematic sexual violence at checkpoints, camps, and detention centres, the state violated this core treaty obligation.

Finally, the revelations about Chemmani highlight the practice of enforced disappearances, which are recognised as a violation of customary international law and as a jus cogens norm, even though Sri Lanka has not ratified the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance (ICPPED). Enforced disappearance engages multiple rights simultaneously: the right to liberty and security, the right not to be tortured, and the right to recognition as a person before the law.

International Humanitarian Law

The context in which Krishanthy was murdered was based on rape used as a weapon of war and genocide. Accordingly, international humanitarian law (IHL) is engaged. Common Article 3 of the four Geneva Conventions (1949) applies to non-international armed conflicts and prohibits, “at any time and in any place whatsoever,” violence to life and person, particularly murder, mutilation, cruel treatment, and torture, as well as outrages upon personal dignity. The rape and murder of a schoolgirl at a checkpoint, together with the execution of her family, are textbook examples of violations of Common Article 3.

Customary IHL, as identified in the International Committee of the Red Cross’s study, further prohibits rape and other forms of sexual violence (Rule 93), enforced disappearance (Rule 98), and summary executions (Rule 156). The Chemmani mass graves, containing hundreds of bodies of “disappeared” Tamils, provide material proof that these violations were not isolated acts, but part of a widespread practice.

Crimes Against Humanity

The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, though Sri Lanka is not a party, provides a useful codification of customary international law on crimes against humanity. Article 7 defines such crimes as acts including murder, extermination, torture, rape, enforced disappearance, and persecution when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against a civilian population. The context in Jaffna in 1996—military occupation, systematic targeting of Tamil civilians, and revelations of mass graves—meets this threshold.

Thus, Krishanthy’s case, far from being an isolated atrocity, must be situated within a widespread and systematic campaign against Tamil civilians.

Rape as Genocide

The Genocide Convention (1948), to which Sri Lanka is a party, defines genocide as certain prohibited acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group. These acts include killing members of the group (Article II(a)) and causing serious bodily or mental harm (Article II(b)). International tribunals, including the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda in Prosecutor v Akayesu (1998), have recognised that rape can constitute genocide when committed with the requisite intent.

The pattern of sexual violence against Tamil women—including the targeting of Krishanthy—was not random. It was a deliberate tool to terrorise the community, destroy social cohesion, and inflict serious bodily and mental harm on the group as such. The Chemmani graves underscore this genocidal logic, as they contain not only men of fighting age but also women, children, and the elderly, showing the intent was to destroy the group in part, not merely to defeat combatants.

The revelations at the Krishanthy trial did not end with the convictions of a handful of soldiers. In his testimony, Lance Corporal Somaratne Rajapakse identified senior officers, including Brigadier Lalith Wijesiriwardana, as being involved in the chain of command that authorised or condoned extrajudicial killings and mass burials at Chemmani. Under the doctrine of command responsibility, Brigadier Lalith bore legal accountability for crimes committed by subordinates acting under his effective control. His failure to prevent or punish the crimes — combined with the testimony that orders flowed from officers at his level — makes him complicit not only in individual acts of murder and rape, but in the wider policy of enforced disappearance and extermination of Tamils. The fact that no action was ever taken against him underscores the Sri Lankan state’s systemic impunity and further strengthens the case that these were not rogue atrocities, but part of a deliberate genocidal project.

Command Responsibility

A central legal issue raised by the Krishanthy case is command responsibility. During his testimony, Lance Corporal Somaratne Rajapakse stated that orders to eliminate detainees and dispose of their bodies came from superior officers, naming Lt. Thudugala and Wijesiriwardana. Under international law, commanders are responsible for crimes committed by subordinates if they knew or should have known about them and failed to prevent or punish. This principle was recognised in the Yamashita case (1945) and codified in Article 28 of the Rome Statute.

The failure to investigate or prosecute these officers represents not only a denial of justice but a breach of Sri Lanka’s international obligations to hold perpetrators at all levels accountable.

Chemmani as Structural Proof

The Chemmani mass graves provide material evidence that Krishanthy’s murder was part of a wider genocidal pattern. Rajapakse testified that between 300 and 400 bodies were buried there during the army’s Jaffna campaign. Exhumations in 1999 confirmed at least 15 bodies, and renewed excavations in 2025 have already unearthed over 200 skeletons, many belonging to children, with signs of violence. The discovery of children’s belongings, school uniforms, and personal effects underlines that this was not collateral damage from combat, but targeted killing of civilians.

Taken together, these graves reveal a policy of extermination directed at the Tamil population, in violation of Article II(c) of the Genocide Convention, which prohibits deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to destroy a group.

Conclusion

The rape and murder of Krishanthy Kumaraswamy cannot be understood in isolation. It is a case that exposes the deeper reality of genocide in Tamil Eelam, through the use of sexual violence, disappearances, and mass executions as state policy. Legally, it represents violations of the ICCPR, CAT, CEDAW, and Geneva Conventions. It demonstrates crimes against humanity under customary international law and satisfies the definitional threshold of genocide under the Genocide Convention.

The testimony linking the case to Chemmani mass graves confirms that the Sri Lankan state’s campaign was not the work of rogue soldiers, but the product of orders, structures, and impunity that reached into the upper echelons of the military. The failure to hold these superiors accountable represents a breach of international obligations and perpetuates a culture of impunity.

To honour Krishanthy’s memory is to recognise her case for what it is: a legal emblem of genocide, a human story that continues to indict the Sri Lankan state, and a demand for international justice that cannot be ignored.

Long live Tamil Eelam.

Counter-Report to A/HRC/60/21: UN Failures to Protect Eelam Tamils and the Denial of Self-Determination

Executive Summary

This counter-report responds to the OHCHR’s “Comprehensive report on the situation of human rights in Sri Lanka” (A/HRC/60/21). While the OHCHR acknowledges ongoing violations, it fails in four critical respects:

1.⁠ ⁠Denial of Genocide – The report avoids naming the 76-year genocidal campaign against Eelam Tamils.

2.⁠ ⁠Erasure of Self-Determination – The Tamil homeland is never acknowledged; Tamils are framed as a minority “community” rather than a nation.

3.⁠ ⁠Endorsement of Domestic Impunity – Despite overwhelming evidence that Sri Lanka is unwilling and unable to prosecute atrocity crimes, the UN continues to recommend domestic mechanisms.

4.⁠ ⁠UN Complicity – Decades of inaction (1983 pogroms, Chemmani mass graves, Mullivaikkal 2009) have entrenched impunity and legitimised Sinhala majoritarian domination.

This approach violates the Genocide Convention (1948), ICCPR and ICESCR (Art. 1), the Responsibility to Protect (R2P), and international jurisprudence recognising the right to remedial secession where a people is subject to systemic persecution.

I. Introduction (§§1–4)

The OHCHR situates its report under Human Rights Council resolutions on “reconciliation and accountability.” Yet the very framing is flawed:

•⁠  ⁠It reduces Tamil suffering to “violations” rather than a pattern of genocide.

•⁠  ⁠It fails to recognise Tamils as a people with the right to self-determination (ICCPR, Art. 1).

•⁠  ⁠It praises government “engagement” despite Sri Lanka’s rejection of past resolutions — mirroring decades of UN appeasement.

UN failure: After Mullivaikkal in 2009, the UN’s own internal review (Petrie Report) admitted “systemic failure” to protect Tamils. Sixteen years later, the same pattern repeats: documentation without enforcement.

II. Political Context (§§5–6)

The report highlights electoral change under President Anura Kumara Dissanayaka as a “mandate for reform.”

•⁠  ⁠This ignores that Tamils in the North-East consistently vote for Tamil parties demanding autonomy, not reconciliation within a unitary Sinhala state.

•⁠  ⁠The UN erases these democratic expressions, just as it did after the 1977 Tamil mandate for independence.

Legal failure: By treating Sinhala-majoritarian governments as legitimate representatives of all peoples, the UN violates the principle of equal self-determination and entrenches internal colonialism.

III. Economic Crisis (§§7–14)

The report focuses on poverty and IMF austerity but frames Tamil deprivation as generic economic hardship.

•⁠  ⁠In reality, land seizures, militarisation, and discriminatory policies deliberately impoverish Tamils in the North-East.

•⁠  ⁠This amounts to genocidal acts under Art. II(c) of the Genocide Convention — “deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to destroy.”

UN failure: In 2009, while Tamils were starved in internment camps, the UN and IMF negotiated Sri Lanka’s bailout. Today, the same prioritisation of fiscal recovery over genocide victims continues.

IV. Legislative Developments (§§15–19)

The OHCHR treats the PTA and new counter-terror laws as reformable.

•⁠  ⁠But the PTA is not merely draconian — it is an instrument of genocide designed to suppress Tamil political identity and memorialisation.

•⁠  ⁠Reforms will not cure laws whose very purpose is persecution.

UN failure: For decades, the UN has called for “review” of the PTA, never demanding full repeal or recognising it as part of genocidal persecution (Rome Statute, Art. 7(h)).

V. Ongoing Violations (§§20–26)

OHCHR acknowledges torture, arbitrary detention, and surveillance — but frames them as generic “concerns.”

•⁠  ⁠In reality, these are systematic crimes against humanity targeting Tamils as a group.

•⁠  ⁠Families of the disappeared and memorialisation activists are persecuted to erase Tamil collective memory — a genocidal act under Art. II(b)–(d) of the Genocide Convention.

UN failure: Navi Pillay (2013) and subsequent High Commissioners documented the same abuses. Yet no action was taken under Article VIII of the Genocide Convention (UN duty to prevent). This repetition proves institutional complicity.

VI. Land Appropriation and Religious Sites (§§27–29)

The OHCHR treats land grabs as “disputes” with departments.

•⁠  ⁠In fact, state-sponsored colonisation and erection of Buddhist shrines are tools of cultural genocide, aimed at erasing the Tamil homeland.

•⁠  ⁠Forcible demographic change is recognised in international jurisprudence (ICTY Krstić).

UN failure: Despite decades of Tamil complaints, the UN has never recognised the North-East as the Tamil homeland. Instead, it legitimises Sinhala colonisation through “development” frameworks.

VII. Impunity and Reconciliation (§§30–37)

The report recommends truth commissions and reform of the Office on Missing Persons (OMP).

•⁠  ⁠But these institutions are part of the infrastructure of impunity. The OMP has traced only 18 people out of 15,000 disappearances.

•⁠  ⁠Equating Tamil genocide with abuses “by all parties” distorts proportionality and denies state responsibility under Art. I of the Genocide Convention.

UN failure: The UN created tribunals for Rwanda and Yugoslavia. For Sri Lanka, despite equivalent evidence, it supports domestic commissions. This double standard betrays Tamils.

VIII. Emblematic Cases and Sexual Violence (§§38–44)

The OHCHR highlights the murder of Sinhalese journalists and the Easter Sunday attacks but sidelines Tamil victims.

•⁠  ⁠Tamil cases like the “Trincomalee 11” drag on, showing Sri Lanka’s unwillingness and inability to prosecute.

•⁠  ⁠The UN itself admits only one wartime sexual violence conviction stands (Krishanthi Kumaraswamy).

Legal conclusion: This satisfies the Rome Statute’s complementarity test for ICC referral. Yet OHCHR fails to recommend referral, proving selective justice.

IX. International Mechanisms (§§48–56)

The OHCHR praises its evidence “repository.”

•⁠  ⁠Evidence without prosecution is meaningless. Victims see this as “a second form of violence.”

•⁠  ⁠By withholding evidence from tribunals, the UN obstructs justice.

UN failure: In 2009, Ban Ki-moon’s Panel of Experts gathered evidence but suppressed it. In 2015, OISL evidence was archived without action. The same failure is repeated.

X. Conclusions and Recommendations (§§57–64)

The report calls this a “historic opportunity,” urging Sri Lanka to reform itself.

•⁠  ⁠Contradiction: The state is the perpetrator. Under international law (ICJ Bosnia v Serbia), perpetrators cannot be trusted to self-investigate genocide.

•⁠  ⁠Self-determination erased: Instead of recognising Tamil nationhood, the report calls for devolution under the 13th Amendment — a colonial arrangement rejected by Tamils.

UN failure: Despite acknowledging “systemic failure” in 2009, the UN again places “primary responsibility” on Sri Lanka, denying international enforcement.

Alternative Recommendations

1.⁠ ⁠Recognition of Genocide – The UN and Member States must recognise the Sri Lankan state’s actions since 1948 as genocide against the Tamil nation.

2.⁠ ⁠ICC Referral / Ad Hoc Tribunal – The Human Rights Council must mandate referral of Sri Lanka to the ICC or establish a tribunal, as was done for Rwanda and Yugoslavia.

3.⁠ ⁠Acknowledgment of the Tamil Homeland – The North-East must be recognised as the Tamil homeland, with Tamils’ right to external self-determination affirmed under Art. 1 ICCPR.

4.⁠ ⁠International Criminal Prosecutions – Evidence from the OHCHR repository must be made available to courts abroad and to international tribunals.

5.⁠ ⁠Targeted Sanctions – Member States must impose sanctions on Sri Lankan military and political leaders credibly accused of atrocity crimes.

6.⁠ ⁠End to UN Complicity – The UN must cease legitimising domestic commissions and acknowledge its repeated failures — from Chemmani to Mullivaikkal.

Risks to Victims and Witnesses

Any investigative mechanism that involves the Sri Lankan state — including truth commissions or the Office on Missing Persons — exposes Tamil victims to grave risks of reprisals and surveillance. The requirement to disclose names, addresses, or testimony within a state-controlled process facilitates the very actors who committed genocide to identify and intimidate survivors and families of the disappeared. In Tamil Eelam, where the military maintains a ratio of nearly one soldier per four civilians, victims already live under constant surveillance, harassment, and threats. Providing sensitive details to state-linked institutions will therefore compromise privacy, physical safety, and the ability to seek justice freely, violating international standards of witness protection under Articles 68 and 87 of the Rome Statute and the UN Declaration on Human Rights Defenders (1998).

In practice, Tamil families who have testified before the OMP or domestic commissions have faced increased police visits, questioning by military intelligence, and community-level stigmatisation. This not only silences victims but also entrenches fear across the community. It illustrates why any investigation of genocide in Tamil Eelam must be international, independent, and insulated from the Sri Lankan state, with strict guarantees of anonymity, relocation mechanisms, and protection orders. Without this, so-called accountability processes become tools of further persecution rather than justice.

Final Legal Conclusion

The OHCHR’s A/HRC/60/21 is not a path to justice but a continuation of UN complicity. By denying genocide, erasing self-determination, and endorsing domestic impunity, the UN sustains the very structures that enable ongoing atrocity crimes.

Justice for Eelam Tamils requires not another “historic opportunity” for Sri Lanka but international accountability and recognition of Tamil nationhood.

Submitted By: Renuga Inpakumar, Graduate of Bachelor of Laws at Western Sydney University, Current Student for Bachelor of Arts at Western Sydney University.- 19/08/2025

Our Daughters’ Blood Still Stains the Earth

Under the warm morning light of 14 August 2006, Senchollai — a sanctuary for the daughters of the Tamil nation — was alive with the sounds of youthful chatter, the rustle of notebooks, and the quiet hum of preparation for a humanitarian training programme in first aid and disaster preparedness. Founded in 1991 in Sandilipay, Jaffna, Sencholai was established to care for children who lost both parents in the ongoing genocide. Constant military offensives forced it to relocate multiple times before settling in Vallipunam, Kilinochchi. In January 2006, the Leader of Tamil Eelam opened a new campus with 11 residential blocks for 245 girls aged 3 and above, plus facilities such as a health centre, skill development centre, library, and cultural hall.

Sencholai housed children from across the North and East, providing both formal education (including national exams) and vocational training in nursing, handicrafts, music, karate, photography, and computer skills. Life included “life survival techniques” like running to underground bunkers during air raids. These were children of Tamil Eelam, between sixteen and eighteen years old, whose lives held the promise of a new generation that could one day heal the wounds left by decades of oppression. They were not combatants, they carried no weapons, they wore no uniforms. 

They were there to learn how to save lives, not to take them. Under international law, and in the moral conscience of any just society, they were civilians entitled to absolute protection. The grounds of Senchollai were marked with the innocence of childhood and the collective resilience of a nation under siege — neem trees offering shade for girls reading aloud, dormitories filled with whispers of friendship, a courtyard where braids were tied with care. Its coordinates had been formally given to both UNICEF and the International Committee of the Red Cross, who in turn passed them to the Sri Lankan state to ensure protection under Article 52(1) of Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions and Article 38 of the Convention on the Rights of the Child. The state knew exactly what Senchollai was, and more importantly, who was inside.

At a southern Sri Lankan Air Force base that morning, four Israeli-built Kfir fighter jets from the No. 10 “Fighter” Squadron stood armed and ready. 

 The mission was not improvised. It had been prepared in advance, coordinated between military and political authorities, and involved pilots who had undergone extensive training on the Kfir platform. Before being cleared for such missions, these pilots had spent months mastering aerial targeting and weapons delivery, including “touch-and-go” manoeuvres — a method of rapid descent, target acquisition, release, and immediate climb-out. 

This technique, rehearsed repeatedly in training, was specifically designed to maximise accuracy and speed, leaving targets no time to react. On 14 August 2006, the very same “touch-and-go” method was executed over Senchollai with precision and this became the recorded target of attack— proof that this was not a chaotic act of war, but a cold, calculated strike.

Each Kfir carried four 250-kilogram high-explosive bombs, a total payload of 4,000 kilograms (4 tonnes) — weapons chosen for their capacity to deliver maximum destruction within a confined perimeter. 

The GPS Coordinates were also sent by the LTTE to the Sri Lankan state directly to address that Senchollai was a children home and place of study not an army base. The GPS coordinates were also provided in good faith by humanitarian agencies, were programmed into the aircraft systems. The reconnaissance aircraft confirmed the presence of schoolgirls — not armed combatants — and yet the mission proceeded with the explicit aim, expressed within military planning circles, to kill Tamil females in order to stop the reproduction of the Tamil race.

Leading the attack was Squadron Leader Vajira Jayakody, flying an Israeli-supplied Kfir, alongside Flight Lieutenant Monath Perera (“Monarch”). They were joined in operational and command roles by other individuals who were pilots. These men, together with reconnaissance crews, executed a strike they knew would obliterate a civilian girls’ home.

Above these pilots stood Air Vice Marshal Sudarshana Pathirana, commander of the No. 10 Squadron at the time, who oversaw mission planning and authorised the strike. Over him was Air Marshal Roshan Goonetileke, then head of the Sri Lankan Air Force, ultimately responsible for all aerial operations. Their actions were directly tied to the political leadership: Gotabaya Rajapaksa, serving as Defence Secretary, personally approved high-value air missions, while President Mahinda Rajapaksa, Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces, provided the overarching military and political mandate to strike civilian infrastructure under the guise of counterterrorism. This was a chain of command fully aware that the target was a civilian site, fully able to prevent the strike, and fully committed to carrying it out regardless. Under international humanitarian law, each of these men is criminally liable for ordering, enabling, or failing to prevent the deliberate targeting of children.

 We also cannot forget Air Marshall Harsha Abeywickrama, Air Vice Marshal Sudarshana Pathirana, Wing Commander Shehan Fernando, Wing Commander Sampath Wickramaratne, Squadron Leader Priyantha Udayakumara, Flight Lieutenant Prabath Wijekoon, and Flight Lieutenant Dinesh Nagasena. These individuals are considered to be celebratory fighter pilots they were trained in Israel by the Sri Lankan state. They have not been held at all accountable for the genocidal crimes and are examples that committing heinous crimes on innocent children has not been considered by the international community. These were the perpetrators of the peak of the genocide that bombed continously the No Fire Zone. 

The flight from the southern airbase to Mullaitivu took precisely eleven minutes. In the first three minutes, the Kfirs ascended in formation, payload armed. By the sixth minute, they approached the GPS-marked perimeter of Senchollai, its cluster of buildings visible to the naked eye. By the ninth minute, they were in perfect attack position — no anti-aircraft fire, no military presence, no resistance. At the ten-minute mark, the first bombs fell, tearing into the main building. In under sixty seconds, all sixteen 250-kilogram bombs were dropped, some striking dormitories, others open courtyards where children had fled for safety. The compound was obliterated.

What remained was deliberate devastation. The neem tree was blackened, its shade replaced by acrid smoke. Notebooks lay open in the dust, marked with blood. A sewing machine, once belonging to a girl who dreamed of being a tailor, lay twisted in rubble. Survivors recall choking dust, screams, and the unbearable stillness of lifeless friends. Fifty-three girls were dead. Three staff were killed. More than a hundred others were injured — blinded, burned, or permanently disabled.

The Sri Lankan state now celebrates these men as “war heroes.” They are decorated with medals, promoted, and elevated in public ceremonies. Their roles at Senchollai and in the peak of the Mullivaikkal genocide in 2009 are whitewashed as “victories” in state propaganda. In reality, they represent the deliberate targeting of children as a tool of genocide — a policy aimed at destroying the Tamil people’s ability to exist as a nation.

Legally, the attack on Senchollai constitutes a grave breach of the Geneva Conventions, a war crime under Article 8(2)(b)(i) and (ix) of the Rome Statute, and an act of genocide under Article II(a) of the Genocide Convention. The principle of erga omnes obliges all states to act against genocide, and universal jurisdiction allows any court to prosecute the perpetrators, regardless of where the crime occurred. The evidence is precise: the victims named, the unit identified, the pilots recorded, the chain of command documented.

It is impossible to ignore the deafening silence of institutions mandated to protect children and prevent mass atrocities — the United Nations, LLRP, the International Committee of the Red Cross, UNICEF, Save the Children, and countless other child protection agencies — in the face of these documented massacres. 

When schoolgirls at Senchollai were bombed in broad daylight, and when Tamil children were crushed under relentless shelling at Mullivaikkal, these organisations issued no binding demands for justice, no pursuit of accountability, and no effective protection measures. Instead, their muted responses and reliance on the Sri Lankan state’s own narratives have enabled the perpetrators to not only evade prosecution but to be publicly decorated as heroes. The world must now ask: how can the very bodies entrusted with safeguarding children justify their inaction when confronted with irrefutable evidence of targeted, state-led massacres? Their silence is not neutrality — it is complicity, and it has paved the way for the ongoing erasure of an entire generation of Eelam Tamil children.

The Australian government must take decisive action to ensure that every Sri Lankan state war criminal — from the pilots who carried out the Senchollai massacre, to the commanders and political architects of the Mullivaikkal genocide — is permanently barred from entering this country. Australia’s so-called commitment to human rights is meaningless while it continues to allow visits, training exchanges, and academic partnerships with institutions like the Kotelawala Defence University, a notorious breeding ground for Sri Lanka’s military elite implicated in war crimes. The silence of the Sri Lankan High Commissioner in Canberra, who sits comfortably in diplomatic circles while representing a regime that slaughtered children and buried civilians in mass graves, is not diplomacy — it is complicity. The current president, Anura Kumara Dissanayake, postures as a voice for the people yet continues to protect war criminals, uphold the military occupation of Tamil Eelam, and dismiss calls for international accountability — proving that a change in leadership has not ended the state’s genocidal policy, only rebranded it. Just as travel bans have been imposed by the U.S., U.K., and Canada on Sri Lankan officials tied to atrocity crimes, Australia must follow suit. There can be no place on Australian soil for those who commanded, enabled, or defended genocide. Every visa granted to such individuals is a stain on Australia’s moral credibility and a direct insult to survivors seeking refuge here.

On August 7, 2025, in Muththaiyankaddu Mullaitivu, Tamil civilian Ethirmanasingham Kapilraj, a 32-year-old father of an infant, was lured to a Sri Lankan military camp under the pretext of collecting metal scraps, brutally beaten by soldiers, forcibly disappeared, and later found dead in a nearby tank. Three police officers, initially involved in the case, were arrested amid growing public outrage. This killing is not an isolated act of violence — it is part of the same entrenched system of state terror that has targeted Eelam Tamils for decades. Even under President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and a so-called “new” government, the apparatus of genocide remains intact: the military continues to occupy Tamil land, Tamil civilians are still abducted, tortured, and killed with impunity, and the state’s security forces operate above the law. The perpetrators of genocide have simply changed uniforms and party colours, while their intent and methods remain the same — to erase the Tamil nation from its homeland.

Justice for Senchollai cannot be partial. It requires criminal accountability for every individual in the chain of command, from pilot to president, as well as recognition that the security of Tamil children cannot exist under the same political order that sought to destroy them. A sovereign Tamil Eelam is not merely a political aspiration; it is a legal and moral necessity for the survival of a people. Nineteen years after Senchollai, the question remains: will the world fulfil its duty under international law, or will it once again allow the murder of Tamil Eelam’s children to fade into history unpunished?

We cannot forget the Tamil Eelam children as our Methagu Velupillai Prabhakaran quoted: 

“The children who have lost their parents in the war are not orphans. They are the children of the Tamil nation. The nation will mother them and father them.”

Long Live Tamil Eelam.-14/08/2025

Black July Was Not a Riot — It Was the Beginning of a Genocide That Continues Today

“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, July 1, 1983.

These words were not uttered in the shadows or behind closed doors. They were spoken publicly by the President of Sri Lanka — a full-throated declaration that the lives and voices of Tamils did not matter, and that their suffering was not only acceptable, but politically desirable. Less than a month later, the streets of Colombo ran red. Tamil homes were burned, bodies set alight, women raped, children butchered, and businesses looted. Over 3,000 Tamils were killed in days, more than 150,000 displaced.

This was not a spontaneous outburst of communal violence. This was a premeditated, state-sanctioned genocide.

Genocidal Intent — Spoken, Not Hidden

Black July was not the beginning. It was the culmination of decades of anti-Tamil policies and pogroms — and the launch of a new phase of ethnic destruction.

The language used by Sri Lanka’s political leadership before and after 1983 lays bare their intent.

Cyril Mathew, Cabinet Minister and one of the main organisers of Sinhala mobs, said:

“If we are governing this country, we must govern it according to our religion, our culture, our history. The Tamils must be made to realise that they can never be equal.”

Ranasinghe Premadasa, then Prime Minister and later President, added:

“There is no room in this country for separatism. Anyone who thinks otherwise must be taught a lesson.”

This “lesson” was taught through blood — in Colombo, in Welikada Prison, and across the South. Tamil civilians were hunted by name, religion, language, and postcode. Government-issued voter rolls were handed to the mobs. The police and military were not absent — they were complicit.

The message was unmistakable: Tamil life could be extinguished without consequence.

The 14 Photographs That Exposed a Nation’s Crime

In this brutal landscape, where even truth seemed destined to burn, one man lit a different fire — the fire of exposure.

Keerthi Mahasooriya, a Sinhalese communist and member of the Sinhalese Socialist Organisation, risked his life to take 14 photographs during Black July. They documented the unfiltered horror: incinerated homes, butchered civilians, and a capital city soaked in Tamil blood.

He did not hand these photographs to the Sri Lankan press or government, which would have buried them. He passed them to Thirunavukkarasu, a trusted Tamil political leader, who delivered them to the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). After 42 years he exposed the truth which we know today on Udaruppu IBC Program. From there, the photos were sent to Baby Subramani, a cadre working in Tamil Nadu, who printed and distributed them to Tamil Nadu news agencies.

These images revealed what the world had refused to see. They were not just photographs — they were evidence. They made denial impossible. They made silence complicity.

The Rise of Tamil Resistance

The Sinhala state wanted Tamils to kneel. But from the ashes of Black July, a new Tamil generation rose — one that no longer believed in false promises of coexistence, but in the fundamental right to resist genocide.

Reflecting on the aftermath of 1983, the Tamil Eelam leader articulated with precision why armed struggle was not a choice but a necessity for Tamils:

“We have tried every political method. We participated in elections. We engaged in peaceful protest. But the Sinhala state only responds to Tamil demands with bullets and blood.”

And again, in 1993:

“The July holocaust in 1983 was a turning point. It was the fire that burned away illusions of coexistence… It told every Tamil child that they were not safe under this state. It gave birth to a new era — the era of armed resistance.”

And most powerfully:

“When oppression becomes more powerful than resistance, resistance becomes a duty.”

This was not extremism. This was realism — a people confronting the fact that they were being exterminated, and that survival demanded not submission, but defiance.

Black July Did Not End. It Evolved.

The genocide has never stopped. It only changed tactics.

Today:

More than 167,000 Tamils remain forcibly disappeared.

Tamil mothers have protested for over 3,000 consecutive days, holding up the faces of their children to a government that refuses to speak their names.

The Tamil homeland is under occupation, with one soldier for every four Tamil civilians.

Tamil temples are bulldozed. Buddhist shrines are erected. Tamil land is stolen.

Farmers starve. Fisherfolk are blocked. Students are surveilled. Writers are arrested.

The Prevention of Terrorism Act still silences Tamil youth.

The genocide continues — silently, slowly, under bureaucracy, under barbed wire, under the gaze of a world that no longer pretends to care.

We Remember — To Refuse Erasure

We do not remember Black July for sorrow alone. We remember to accuse. To document. To defy.

We remember Keerthi Mahasooriya, who used his camera as a weapon against lies.

We remember Thirunavukkarasu, who moved the truth into the hands of the movement.

We remember Baby Subramani, who printed and distributed those photographs so Tamil Nadu and the world could never say they didn’t know.

We remember the Tamil Eelam leader, who reminded us that resistance is not terrorism — it is the language of survival.

We remember every child burned. Every woman silenced. Every body never found.

Black July was not a riot. It was genocide — and it never ended.

We do not grieve quietly.

We do not forgive murder.

We do not forget.

We are Tamil.

We are memory.

We are resistance.

Long Live Tamil Eelam

By Renuga Inpakumar, Spokesperson, Tamil Refugee Council, Final Law Student

The UN High Commissioner’s Visit to Chemmani Is a Continuation of Betrayal—Justice Demands Mullivaikkal

2/07/2025

The United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Türk, recently visited the Chemmani mass graves in Sri Lanka—a site where Tamil victims were buried in secret by the Sri Lankan military after enforced disappearances. While such a visit may appear symbolic, it is politically empty and dangerously misleading. For Tamil survivors and families of the disappeared, this gesture—absent of any visit to Mullivaikkal, the epicentre of the Tamil genocide—amounts to nothing less than an insult to truth, memory, and the rule of law.

The UN cannot claim neutrality while enabling impunity. Its actions—past and present—reveal a pattern of complicity masked as engagement. The international system, which moves swiftly when genocide occurs in places like Ukraine, has continued to ignore the genocide of Tamils, despite the fact that Eelam Tamils represent the second-highest number of enforced disappearances in the world, with over 165,000 people unaccounted for since 2009. We are having our families rallying for more than 3000 days. These are not mere statistics. These are families—fathers, mothers, children—erased by a genocidal state that the UN continues to partner with.

UN Failures—From 2009 to the Present

Let us be clear: this is not a new betrayal. In 2009, the UN physically withdrew from the Tamil homeland as the genocide reached its peak in Mullivaikkal. Satellite images and eyewitness accounts confirm the use of chemical weapons, indiscriminate shelling of hospitals, and the slaughter of civilians trapped in designated “No Fire Zones.” Instead of intervening, the UN left. The Petrie Report (2012), an internal UN review, admitted that the Organisation had failed in its responsibility to protect civilians and suppressed internal reports for political reasons.

In 2013, the then-High Commissioner Navi Pillay visited Sri Lanka. Though she expressed concern and called for accountability, the visit achieved nothing. Her efforts were swiftly undermined by the Sri Lankan state, which publicly rebuked her and rejected any notion of international investigation. Pillay’s visit became a footnote—a symbol of the UN’s inability or unwillingness to challenge a state intent on genocide.

And last year, in 2024, Deputy High Commissioner Nada Al-Nashif visited Sri Lanka, only to issue vague, blanket statements on reconciliation. No pressure. No accountability. No justice. The cycle of platitudes continues, while Tamil mothers die waiting for answers. Just yesterday, the 351st Tamil mother of the disappeared passed away, and another mother from the Eastern Province died shortly after meeting with the UN. These are not isolated incidents—they are daily deaths driven by international indifference.

Türk’s Statement: Repeating the Pattern of Complicity

This year’s visit by Volker Türk is no exception. While he called for the repeal of the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA)—a notorious law under which countless Tamils have been arbitrarily detained, tortured, and disappeared—he also praised Sri Lanka’s internal mechanisms for accountability. This is outrageous. The Sri Lankan judicial system is not flawed—it is structurally genocidal. It protects perpetrators, silences witnesses, and punishes truth-tellers. Tamil youth continue to be detained, tortured, and silenced for speaking against the state. Political prisoners remain behind bars, and Tamil journalists are surveilled and harassed. In this context, any endorsement of domestic accountability mechanisms is not just naive—it is a legitimisation of ongoing repression.

Even more alarming is the High Commissioner’s continued reference to the unitary Sri Lankan state, a colonial relic enshrined in the Constitution that has facilitated the systematic erasure of Tamil language, land, and identity. By reinforcing this framework, the UN is denying Tamils their right to self-determination, which is explicitly protected under Article 1 of the ICCPR and ICESCR. These are not negotiable rights. They are binding international legal obligations.

The Unacknowledged Genocide

The genocide against the Tamil people has not ended—it has evolved. While the bombs have stopped falling, Tamil lands are still occupied. Over one Sri Lankan soldier remains for every four Tamil civilians in the North-East. Buddhist shrines are being built over Hindu temples. Tamil fishermen are being starved by Indian trawlers and state-backed harassment. Even the Archaeology, Wildlife, and Fisheries departments have been weaponised to dispossess Tamils of their ancestral lands.

The UN recognises genocide in Ukraine, yet it has never formally acknowledged the Tamil genocide, despite more than three decades of armed conflict, aerial bombardment, starvation tactics, and deliberate erasure. Tamils endured 30 years of food and medicine embargoes, enforced by the Sri Lankan state to weaken resistance and subjugate the population. This history is not hidden—it is documented. It is visible. And yet, the UN refuses to name it.

A Community Abandoned, Yet Still Fighting

Faced with this silence, the Tamil community has turned inward. We now see fundraisers held by Tamil individuals, not to rebuild schools or cultural centres, but to raise money to go to Geneva—to beg the same UN that left us in 2009 to now listen. It is a painful indictment of international law that survivors of genocide are raising funds to access a system that has systemically failed them.

This desperation shows not weakness, but strength. Tamils are still fighting, still resisting, still demanding justice after 76 years of repression. But we must be clear-eyed: the UN will not save us unless we demand it, relentlessly and unapologetically.

What Justice Looks Like

Justice cannot come from vague commitments or symbolic visits. Justice cannot come from working with perpetrators. It must begin with:

An official visit to Mullivaikkal by the High Commissioner.

Formal UN recognition of the Tamil genocide.

International accountability mechanisms—not Sri Lanka’s courts, but international tribunals or hybrid courts with real prosecutorial power.

Support for Tamil self-determination, consistent with international law.

Immediate release of all Tamil political prisoners and an end to the use of the PTA.

Until then, every statement made by the High Commissioner is a reiteration of abandonment. Every partnership with Sri Lanka is a betrayal. And every photo taken at Chemmani—without stepping foot in Mullivaikkal—is a stain on the UN’s already blood-soaked record in Sri Lanka.

Col Kittu Remembrance

17/05/2025

Today marks 32 years since Colonel Kittu and nine other LTTE cadres gave their lives for Tamil Eelam. The nine who perished alongside Col. Kittu were:  

•⁠  ⁠Lt. Col. Kuttisiri: Rasaiah Sri Ganesan from Suthumalai, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Captain Jeeva: Nadarajah Mark Jeyarajah from Pashaiyoor, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Captain Gunaseelan: Segan Cruz Michael Jeeva from Maniam Thottam, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Major Malaravan (Velan): Suntharalingam Suntharavel from Viyaparimoolai, Point Pedro  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Captain Rosan: Ratnalingam Arunarajah from Nallur, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Captain Nayagam: Sivalingam Seharan from Polikandy, Point Pedro  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Lt. Thuyavan: Mahalingam Jeyalingam from Kandy Road, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Lt. Amuthan: Aloysius Johnson from Navanthurai, Jaffna  

•⁠  ⁠Sea Tiger Lt. Nallarasan: Sivagnanasundaram Ramesh from Columbuthurai, Jaffna  

Col. Kittu was the LTTE’s Jaffna Commander from 1985-1987 and later became the International Secretariat in London. On his way home to present the LTTE peace proposal to our leader, the Indian Navy intercepted their ship. Left with no alternative, Col. Kittu and his comrades chose to sacrifice their lives.  

Their sacrifice is not just a historical event; it is a call to action for the youth of today. Every aspect of Tamil Eelam’s struggle—from preserving our culture, language, and history to seeking justice for the genocide—is inherently political. To say “nothing is political” when it comes to embracing our culture is to betray the very foundation of our fight. When others remain silent or seek to align themselves with politicians for personal gain, we must rise above, refusing to let fear or convenience dilute our commitment to Tamil Eelam.  

Col. Kittu’s words remind us of the deeply political nature of our struggle. Reflecting on a conversation with a British Refugee Council official, he said:  

“Take a map of the island. Take a paintbrush and paint all the areas where Sri Lanka has bombed and launched artillery attacks during these past several years. When you have finished, the painted areas that you see – that is Tamil Eelam.”

This statement captures the essence of our homeland—etched in blood and sacrifice, yet still resilient. The youth must carry this paintbrush, not to merely recount the horrors but to redraw the boundaries of Tamil Eelam through our determination, skills, and unity.  

We cannot allow ourselves to be silenced by those who fear confronting oppression or those who appease politicians in the hope of avoiding conflict. Our leader’s vision must guide us. He warned:  

“Our aim is to develop a new society in Tamil Eelam where equality, justice, and humanity flourish. We cannot allow dishonest and undisciplined persons to enter the administrative sphere in a social setup organized with the new aim and destroy the society.”

This message is clear: our fight is not just for independence but for a just and equitable society. To achieve this, the youth must recognize that everything—our language, traditions, and even the way we live—is intertwined with our political struggle. We must reject complacency and understand that true cultural pride comes with political awareness and action.  

Col. Kittu’s life is a testament to what we can achieve when we unite our skills and focus on our shared goal. He and his comrades demonstrated that Tamil Eelam is not just a dream but a goal within reach. Their sacrifice compels us to stay steadfast, resist the urge to compromise, and prioritize Tamil Eelam above all else.  

As Eelam Tamils, it is our responsibility to ensure that the legacy of Col. Kittu and our fallen heroes endures. The Sri Lankan state must know that we will not be silenced, and we will not stop until Tamil Eelam becomes a reality.  

Long live Tamil Eelam.

•⁠  ⁠Written by Renuga Inpakumar 2025

8/04/2025- Response to Interview with Former President of Sri Lanka, Ranil and Al Jazeera
Ranil Wickremesinghe: The Master of Deception and the Guardian of Genocide

Sri Lankan President Ranil Wickremesinghe brands himself as a statesman of peace, a leader who upholds democracy and stability. He tells the world that Sri Lanka is a non-violent country, carefully crafting a narrative of progress and reconciliation. Yet, for Eelam Tamils, his words are a cruel mockery of reality. The very land we walk on is soaked in the blood of our people—165,000 and more murdered in a genocide that he dares to reduce to a mere incident.  

This is the Wickremesinghe doctrine: whitewash war crimes, downplay genocide, and protect the very state that carried out ethnic cleansing. He speaks in diplomatic tones for the international community, but his leadership is built on the same structures of Sinhala-Buddhist violence that have oppressed Tamils for 77 years.  

Sri Lanka’s Violence: The Reality Behind Wickremesinghe’s Lies

Wickremesinghe’s claim that Sri Lanka is non-violent is a blatant insult to the lived experiences of Tamils. The Sri Lankan state has never been non-violent—it was built on the systematic destruction of the Tamil people, from state-sponsored pogroms in 1956, 1958, 1977, and 1983 to the genocidal war that culminated in the Mullivaikkal massacre in 2009. Even today, Tamil land remains under military occupation, Tamil journalists are abducted and tortured, Tamil activists are silenced, and Tamil families searching for their disappeared loved ones face constant intimidation.  

This is the Sri Lanka Wickremesinghe defends—a state where violence is the norm, where Sinhala supremacy is protected through military force, and where Tamils are still denied justice. Yet he has the audacity to stand before the world and claim otherwise.  

Downplaying Genocide: A Deliberate Erasure of Tamil Suffering

Perhaps the most enraging aspect of Wickremesinghe’s rhetoric is his attempt to rewrite history. He refers to the peak of the Tamil genocide as merely an incident, deliberately minimizing the mass slaughter of Tamil civilians in 2009. But this was not an incident—it was the culmination of decades of state-sponsored ethnic cleansing.  

Between January and May 2009, over 165,000 Tamils were massacred in cold blood. Civilians were herded into so-called “No Fire Zones,” only to be bombed relentlessly by the Sri Lankan military. Hospitals were shelled, women were raped, and surrendering Tamils were executed at point-blank range. Babies were ripped from their mothers’ arms and disappeared. This was a genocide.

By calling it an incident, Wickremesinghe seeks to erase this truth. His words are not mere semantics—they are part of Sri Lanka’s broader attempt to deny, distort, and dismiss the Tamil genocide. It is a calculated move to avoid accountability, to deceive the international community, and to maintain the oppressive status quo.  

It Was Never a Civil War—It Was and Is a Genocide

A significant part of this distortion is the international media’s continued reference to Sri Lanka’s war as  a civil war, a term Mehdi Hasan himself used during his interview. But this was never a civil war—it was a one-sided war of extermination against Tamils, a war where the Sri Lankan state, backed by international powers, used its full military strength to massacre civilians.  

A civil war implies two equal sides fighting for political control of a country, but in Sri Lanka, there was no such balance. The Tamil armed struggle was a response to decades of state-sponsored pogroms, systematic discrimination, and ethnic cleansing. The Sri Lankan state was not at war with an equal opponent; it was carrying out a campaign of genocide. The final months of the war in 2009 proved this beyond doubt—165,000 Tamil civilians were slaughtered, hospitals were deliberately bombed, surrendering civilians were executed, and sexual violence was used systematically to destroy the Tamil population.  

Even after 2009, the genocide continues through military occupation, land grabs, forced disappearances, and demographic engineering. Sri Lanka never had a civil war—it had a genocide, and that genocide is ongoing. The international community must stop whitewashing Sri Lanka’s crimes and recognize the truth: Sri Lanka is a genocidal state, and leaders like Ranil Wickremesinghe are complicit in its continuation.

A State That Thrives on Genocide

Wickremesinghe may claim to be different from the Rajapaksa regime, but in reality, he is cut from the same cloth. If he truly wanted to break from the past, he would have dismantled the military occupation in the North and East, ended the persecution of Tamil activists, and ensured justice for war crimes. Instead, he has done the opposite:  

•⁠  ⁠Tamil land is still being stolen under the guise of archaeology and Buddhistization.  

•⁠  ⁠Tamil mothers have been protesting for over 2,000 days for their disappeared children, yet Wickremesinghe ignores them.  

•⁠  ⁠The military still dominates Tamil areas, with one soldier for every four Tamil civilians.  

•⁠  ⁠Tamil political prisoners remain behind bars, while Sinhala war criminals roam free.  

Wickremesinghe’s Sri Lanka is not non-violent—it is a violent, militarized state that continues to erase Tamil identity. His leadership has done nothing to change that.  

Sri Lanka’s Military Generals: War Criminals Shielded by the State and the International Community

One of the most disturbing moments in Mehdi Hasan’s interview with Ranil Wickremesinghe was the revelation that General Shavendra Silva, a man directly responsible for the mass slaughter of Tamils in 2009, was representing Sri Lanka at the United Nations. This is not just an insult to the victims of genocide—it is an outright failure of international accountability. General Shavendra Silva was a key commander in the Sri Lankan Army’s 58th Division, which led some of the most brutal offensives during the final stages of the Tamil genocide. His forces bombed hospitals, targeted civilians, executed surrendering Tamils, and systematically used sexual violence as a weapon of war. Instead of facing trial for war crimes, he has been rewarded with high-ranking positions, including serving as Sri Lanka’s Army Chief, and has been allowed to represent the country on global platforms like the UN.  

General Silva is not an isolated case. The entire upper command of the Sri Lankan military in 2009 was composed of war criminals who must be held accountable. General Jagath Jayasuriya, former Army Chief, oversaw widespread civilian massacres. General Sarath Fonseka, another architect of the genocide, bragged about the military’s operations and justified the indiscriminate killing of Tamil civilians. Kamal Gunaratne, another senior commander, was also implicated in mass atrocities, including extrajudicial killings and sexual violence. These men did not act alone—they were part of a well-organized military strategy designed to exterminate Tamils, and they continue to be protected by the Sri Lankan state today.  

The Sri Lankan Military’s Tactics: A Blueprint for Genocide

The Sri Lankan military’s actions in 2009 were not just war crimes; they set an example for how to commit genocide in the modern era. Every stage of the conflict was a calculated attempt to destroy the Tamil population:  

•⁠  ⁠No Fire Zones Became Killing Fields: The government instructed civilians to gather in “No Fire Zones,” only to indiscriminately shell and bomb them once they were trapped. Thousands of men, women, and children were burned alive by artillery and airstrikes.  

•⁠  ⁠Hospital Bombings: At least 65 hospitals were targeted by the Sri Lankan military, a clear violation of international humanitarian law. Patients, doctors, and children seeking medical care were deliberately killed.  

•⁠  ⁠Mass Executions: Sri Lankan soldiers executed surrendered combatants and civilians, including those who waved white flags. The infamous “White Flag Incident”saw senior Tamil political and military leaders murdered after surrendering under UN mediation.  

•⁠  ⁠Sexual Violence as a Weapon of War: Tamil women, including those captured alive, were systematically raped and mutilated before being executed. Photographic evidence and eyewitness testimonies confirm the military’s deliberate use of rape to degrade Tamil women and erase their identity.  

•⁠  ⁠Enforced Disappearances: Thousands of Tamils, including children and the elderly, were taken away by the military and never seen again. The Sri Lankan government has refused to answer the mothers of the disappeared, who have been protesting for over 2,000 days demanding to know what happened to their loved ones.  

The scale and deliberate nature of these crimes make it clear: this was not a war—it was genocide. The Sri Lankan military’s tactics have been studied globally as an example of how to wipe out a population while avoiding direct international intervention. This is why impunity for General Shavendra Silva and other military leaders is so dangerous—it allows other genocidal regimes to follow Sri Lanka’s playbook.

General Shavendra Silva Must Be Banned from Australia—And War Criminals Must Be Prosecuted

While some countries, including the United States, have placed travel ban on General Shavendra Silva, Australia has failed to take any concrete action. Silva and other Sri Lankan war criminals should be barred from entering Australia, and any assets they or their families hold in the country must be frozen.  

More importantly, Australia must stop treating the Sri Lankan military as a legitimate institution. Instead of training and collaborating with Sri Lankan security forces under so-called “border protection” agreements, Australia must demand full accountability for the war crimes committed in 2009. The Sri Lankan military must be made to answer for where the disappeared are. Australia must lead efforts to impose targeted sanctions on Sri Lankan military officials and push for an independent international investigation into their crimes.  

Australia’s Complicity and Responsibility

Australia has historically ignored the genocide against Eelam Tamils and continues to treat Sri Lanka as a partner rather than a genocidal state. Successive Australian governments have deported Tamil refugees, cooperated with the Sri Lankan navy to prevent asylum seekers from escaping genocide, and refused to push for accountability at the United Nations. If Australia truly believes in human rights, it must take an active role in holding Sri Lanka accountable:  

•⁠  ⁠Ban war criminals like Shavendra Silva from entering Australia.

•⁠  ⁠Cut all military and security ties with Sri Lanka.

•⁠  ⁠Support an international war crimes tribunal to prosecute those responsible for the Tamil genocide.

•⁠  ⁠Demand the Sri Lankan military reveal the fate of the disappeared and allow independent investigations into mass graves. 

Anything less is complicity. Australia must stop shielding Sri Lankan war criminals and take a stand for Tamil justice. The genocide did not end in 2009—it is ongoing, and it is time for the world to recognize and act against Sri Lanka’s crimes.

From Ranil to Anura: Sri Lanka’s Cycle of Genocide Continues

Now, as Anura Kumara Dissanayake rises to power, Tamils are witnessing yet another Sinhala leader who continues the same cycle of genocide. Anura, like Ranil, refuses to acknowledge the 165,000 Tamil lives lost in Mullivaikkal as genocide and instead insists on preserving the unitary Sri Lankan state—an inherently racist structure designed to maintain Sinhala-Buddhist dominance. While he claims to fight corruption and injustice, he has remained silent on the continued military occupation of Tamil Eelam, the enforced disappearances, and the structural violence that keeps Tamils under permanent oppression.  

His policies do not seek to dismantle the power of the military but instead reinforce it, ensuring that Tamil lands remain under Sinhala control. The archaeology department, the fisheries department, and the forestry department continue their work of stealing Tamil resources, erasing Tamil heritage, and suffocating Tamil livelihoods. Like every other Sri Lankan leader before him, Anura pretends to be different while upholding the very foundations of a genocidal state.  

There is no change in Sri Lanka—only new faces maintaining the same brutal oppression of Eelam Tamils. Ranil ensured impunity for the Rajapaksas, and Anura will ensure the legacy of genocide continues. Tamils cannot expect justice from a system built on their destruction. The only path forward is international accountability for Sri Lanka’s genocide and the realization of Tamil Eelam’s right to self-determination.

Long Live Tamil Eelam

•⁠  ⁠Renuga Inpakumar

29/04/2025 – Maamanithar Jeyakumar Uncle’s Death Anniversary

Methagu Velupillai Prabhakaran, the leader of our liberation struggle, once said of him: “Jeyakumar was a man of principles, one who upheld the ideals of our freedom movement with unwavering loyalty and dedication.” It has been 18 years since Jeyakumar uncle passed away. His ability to remain true to the cause, even in the face of adversity, made him a respected figure among all those who knew him.

Maamanithar Jeyakumar Uncle’s death anniversary is today. It is an honour to remember a man whose unwavering commitment to the Tamil struggle has left an indelible mark on our journey towards self-determination. In my early years of life, he carried me and laughed with me when I was only a baby. Today, I have laid flowers at the grave of our fallen heroes in Rookwood Cemetery, remembering not only his contributions but also the sacrifices of all those who gave their lives for Tamil Eelam. His presence continues to inspire us as we carry forward the struggle for our homeland.

Jeyakumar Uncle was the head of all organisations responsible for Tamil Eelam and played a crucial role in Australia’s engagement with the Tamil Eelam struggle. He was the International Coordinator of TCC and participated in ensuring that everything was done accordingly for the best of Tamil Eelam. After he died it has never been the same without his presence. He was deeply knowledgeable about the operations of the Sri Lankan state’s forces, ensuring that our movement remained informed and strategically prepared. He had a close relationship with our leader and those directly responsible for making Tamil Eelam an attainable reality in our homeland. Unlike those who engaged in political appeasement, he never wavered in his commitment to the cause.

Jeyakumar Uncle was an international expert and his opinion and advice was consdiered expert advice which to this day is always mentioned. Jeyakumar Uncle knew how to navigate discussions and diplomacy, particularly during Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga’s presidency in Sri Lanka. He played a key role in organizing a Peace and Justice Conference in Canberra, the Australian capital to discuss the aims of Tamil Eelam, maintaining an open dialogue with the Sri Lankan state while firmly advocating for the rights and self-determination of Tamils. He understood the importance of international advocacy while never compromising on the core principles of the struggle.

Jeyakumar uncle was arrested in Australia for defending our people. But this action did not make him stop rather resulted in an uproar of many to be determined that nothing can stop those wanting to achieve Tamil Eelam. The Australian Government had tried their best in wanting to end our voice and chose the side to support the genocidal island but we as Eelam Tamils especially those who are not pawns of the political party cannot forget the acts of the Government and must act in accordance of the interest of our people. Jeyakumar Uncle was a man of great integrity, one who spoke with respect and never sought to compete with others. Instead, he focused on guiding the youth, instilling in them the knowledge and strength to fight for our homeland. He was a mentor who led by example, never wavering in his dedication to the cause. Unlike many who become entangled in political manoeuvres, he remained steadfast and upfront in his commitment to Tamil Eelam. He did not bow to external pressures or dilute his stance; his focus was always on the ultimate goal—freedom for our people. Jeyakumar Uncle and his family had dedicated their life and placed their time in this struggle. We must never forget that. 

The Tamil Eelam struggle has always been more than just a demand for a separate state—it is a fight for survival, justice, and the right to live with dignity. For over seven decades, Eelam Tamils have faced systematic oppression, massacres, forced disappearances, and structural genocide at the hands of the Sri Lankan state. The Sinhala-Buddhist chauvinist policies of successive governments have made it clear that there is no space for Tamil identity, culture, and self-rule within a unitary Sri Lanka. The peak of the genocide in 2009, where tens of thousands of Tamils were slaughtered in Mullivaikkal, was not an isolated event—it was the culmination of decades of oppression, displacement, and international indifference.

The struggle for Tamil Eelam is not merely about geographical borders; it is about the right to exist as a people without fear of annihilation. Today, the so-called reconciliation efforts in Sri Lanka are nothing more than a facade to erase Tamil national identity while allowing the continued militarization and colonization of Tamil lands. Tamil Eelam is not a demand rooted in extremism; it is a response to state-sponsored extermination. Jeyakumar Uncle understood this deeply. He did not waver in his stance nor seek middle ground where there was none. He was firm in articulating the reality that peace without justice is meaningless, and any solution that does not recognize Tamil sovereignty will only prolong the oppression of our people.

In the years since his passing, the absence of his leadership has been deeply felt. The community has faced instability, and his wisdom in guiding the youth has been irreplaceable. He understood the delicate balance of ensuring our struggle remained strong while navigating the challenges we faced outside of our homeland. His ability to uplift and inspire the youth was unparalleled, and today, we reflect on the void left in his absence.

However, his legacy is not lost. It is now up to the younger generation to honour his memory by continuing his work. The youth must embrace his values—respect, dedication, and unwavering commitment to Tamil Eelam. We must rise to the occasion, uphold the sacrifices of our Maarveeras, and ensure that the dream of self-determination does not fade. The struggle does not end with the passing of our leaders; it is a duty passed down through generations.

As we remember Maamanithar Jeyakumar Uncle today, we do so not only with grief but with a renewed sense of purpose. His legacy must continue to guide us as we fight for justice, self-determination, and the rightful recognition of our homeland. We will not let his sacrifices, nor those of our Maarveeras, be in vain.

Long Live Tamil Eelam 

Renuga Inpakumar

Tamil Refugee Council Spokesperson

2/05/2025- Illaku 15 Years Anniversary

Dear Illaku team,

On behalf of the Tamil Refugee Council and our wider community across the diaspora, I extend our deepest and most powerful congratulations to Illaku for 15 years of unrelenting, unapologetic journalism in the face of silence, distortion, and erasure.

You have not simply reported news — you have been a living archive of our people’s suffering, resilience, and resistance. In an era where media too often plays the role of accomplice to state violence, Illaku has been a weapon of truth. You have documented, dissected, and exposed the genocidal machinery of the Sri Lankan state with an intensity that demands attention and refuses compromise. You have laid bare the structural genocide that continues to ravage Tamil Eelam — from the occupation of our land to the psychological warfare waged against our people.

For many of us born or raised in exile — in Australia, the UK, Canada, or elsewhere — Illaku has been our first window into truths our schools never taught us and our communities were too traumatised or fearful to name. You have allowed Tamil youth to understand that our struggle did not end in 2009. It evolved. It became more insidious. And it is our generation’s duty to carry the flame — not of reconciliation with our oppressors, but of justice, memory, and freedom.

I recently had the profound privilege of meeting with two of your senior officials. It was not just a conversation — it was an awakening. To hear their reflections on the importance of intergenerational responsibility, on the role of youth in continuing the resistance, was deeply moving. They reminded me that this movement does not belong to one moment in time — it is a continuum of defiance passed down through the blood and bones of our people.

What makes Illaku so distinct is that you do not observe from afar — you stand with us. When Tamil refugees in Australia took to the streets in a 129-day non-stop protest demanding permanent protection, Illaku was there. You interviewed the Tamil Refugee Council’s NSW coordinator, myself, and our fellow refugees who have lived in limbo for over a decade. You gave our pain words. You gave our protest reach. You gave our fight meaning on a global scale.

In those 129 days, we were ignored by major Australian media, sidelined by politicians, and gaslit by institutions that benefit from our precarity. But Illaku amplified us. You ensured that the story of our suffering — and more importantly, our resistance — crossed oceans. You turned local protest into global pressure. That is the power of principled journalism. That is the power of solidarity rooted in history, not in tokenism.

Through your work, you have dismantled the illusion that genocide is a thing of the past. You have shown the world that Tamil Eelam continues to bleed — through enforced disappearances, land colonisation, cultural destruction, and the militarised choking of everyday life. You’ve reminded us that to forget is to participate. And you have made forgetting impossible.

For youth like me — children of the war, survivors of displacement, born into silence but awakened by truth — Illaku has been an anchor. You have helped us reclaim the language of resistance, dignity, and Tamil nationalism. You have reminded us that our grief is political, that our identity is not shameful, and that our collective future demands confrontation, not compliance.

Fifteen years of truth-telling is no small feat. It is an act of defiance. It is an act of love. And it is a gift to our people — past, present, and future.

Thank you for standing on the frontlines of memory. Thank you for writing what others feared to utter. Thank you for reminding the world that the Tamil people are not defeated — we are rising, louder and more united than ever.

In unwavering solidarity,

Renuga Inpakumar

Spokesperson, Tamil Refugee Council

5th year law/ arts student at Western Sydney University

13/05/2025- Letter to Mayor of Brampton

Renuga Inpakumar 

Spokesperson, Tamil Refugee Council

13/05/2025

Mayor Patrick Brown

City of Brampton

2 Wellington St. W.

Brampton, ON L6Y 4R2

Canada

Dear Mayor Brown,

On behalf of the Tamil diaspora and the Tamil Refugee Council, I would like to extend our deepest gratitude for your remarkable leadership and steadfast support in bringing the Tamil Genocide Monument to Brampton. The unveiling of this monument is an important milestone in our collective journey for justice, remembrance, and recognition of the suffering endured by Eelam Tamils.

Your speech during the unveiling was both powerful and thoughtful. You spoke with the correct terminology, showing an understanding of the history and the importance of acknowledging the genocide. By recognizing the pain, displacement, and loss faced by Eelam Tamils, you have not only validated our community’s suffering but also sent a strong message of support for human rights and justice worldwide. This is particularly meaningful to those of us who carry this history, and we thank you for your integrity in addressing it with such care and accuracy.

We also wish to commend Canada, and specifically the City of Brampton, for ensuring that the monument was showcased in a way that reflects the dignity and gravity of the Tamil Genocide. The respectful placement and recognition of this monument serves as a lasting tribute to the victims, and it will stand as an educational resource for future generations. It is a reminder of the strength and resilience of the Tamil people, and a call to action for all who believe in the pursuit of justice.

This monument is not merely a structure; it is a symbol of the ongoing fight for justice for those who continue to suffer, and it is a beacon of hope for future generations. It reminds us that the struggles of our people will not be forgotten, and that we must continue to advocate for the rights of those whose voices have been silenced.

Your efforts have been invaluable in helping our community feel seen and heard. On behalf of the Tamil diaspora, I thank you for your compassion, leadership, and unwavering commitment to ensuring that the Tamil Genocide is acknowledged and remembered. Together, we will continue to strive for justice and peace.

We look forward to continuing our work with you and your office in promoting these crucial values.

Sincerely,

Renuga Inpakumar

Spokesperson, Tamil Refugee Council