Army to make Kobbekaduwa proud

The Sri Lankan civil war destroyed generations of lives and left wounds that remain unhealed to this day. The brutality of the final phase of the war, particularly during its last five months, left a deep scar not only on the victims but also on the image of the military. Allegations of war crimes, civilian casualties, and a glaring absence of accountability still hang over the institution, tarnishing what could have been an unambiguous narrative of sacrifice.

Yet, amidst this shadow, the courage and dedication of over 28,000 security forces personnel who died in service cannot, and should not, be diminished. They gave their lives for a cause larger than themselves, and their sacrifices deserve a place in our collective memory. Among them, General Denzil Kobbekaduwa stands as one of the most respected figures — a soldier whose legacy offers lessons desperately needed today.

Kobbekaduwa’s death in 1992, caused by a landmine explosion in Araly Point, was a symbolic loss for a country yearning for principled leadership in war. He was a rare figure in a conflict where humanity was too often eroded by violence. His reputation was built not only on his strategic skill but on his empathy for his soldiers and for civilians caught in the crossfire. He understood that a military, even in wartime, must be guided by discipline, dignity, and restraint.

Now, 16 years after the guns have fallen silent, Sri Lanka’s military still struggles to transition into a peacetime force. The transformation has been slow, incomplete, and at times, regressive. A military in a democratic society exists to defend the nation, not to police its citizens or entangle itself in civil administration. This principle has been ignored. From Rathupaswala in 2013 to the Aragalaya in 2022, instances of the military’s involvement in civilian matters, including the deaths of unarmed citizens have undermined trust and deepened the perception that the armed forces operate beyond democratic oversight.

Currently the military remains outsized, with no significant downsizing since the war’s end. Its demographic composition continues to be overwhelmingly skewed, failing to represent all communities in the country as befits a national institution. In the North and East, its presence is still heavy, fostering resentment and reinforcing the perception of an occupying force rather than a protective one.

Reform is not just a matter of numbers or budgets; it is a matter of ethos. The armed forces must embody values that would have made leaders like Kobbekaduwa proud; professionalism, impartiality, and service to all citizens regardless of ethnicity or political affiliation. This means scaling back its role in civilian governance, ending the culture of impunity, and ensuring genuine accountability for past abuses. It means reshaping recruitment to reflect Sri Lanka’s plural society and building trust with communities that have long viewed the military as an adversary.

The alternative is to allow the military’s identity to remain defined by the nationalist and exclusionary elements that gained dominance in the post-war years. Such a trajectory not only dishonours the memory of those who served with integrity but also weakens the very democracy the military is sworn to protect.

Sri Lanka needs to build a military that not only would honour the likes of General Kobbekaduwa but would also help heal the wounds of the past and restore faith in one of the country’s most powerful institutions.