Reopening Chemmani 

In 1998, former Sri Lankan army lance corporal Somaratne Rajapakse, while on trial for the rape and murder of a Tamil schoolgirl, Krishanthi Kumaraswamy, revealed the existence of mass graves in Chemmani. He alleged that over 300 people who had disappeared during the military’s occupation of Jaffna in 1995 were buried there. These individuals were mostly Tamil civilians and suspected LTTE sympathisers who vanished after being taken into custody by the army.

Initial investigations led to the exhumation of 15 skeletons from the site in 1999. Forensic experts, including international observers, confirmed that the bodies showed signs of violent death. Yet, despite this early promise of accountability, momentum quickly faltered. Successive Governments failed to take serious legal action. The site has never been fully excavated, and no one has been held accountable for the deaths.

Early this year a group of construction workers found human remains in the vicinity of Chemmani, once again opening a deep wound that was never healed. At least 19 human remains have been found since the Jaffna magistrate ordered exhumation at the site.

This inertia is part of a broader pattern in post-war Sri Lanka: a failure to reckon honestly with the atrocities of the past. From the Black July pogroms of 1983, the over 60,000 extrajudicial killings during 1987-87, to the final phases of the civil war in 2009, history is littered with uninvestigated mass killings and enforced disappearances. The Chemmani case, though smaller in scale than others, is emblematic of how State institutions have consistently prioritised political expedience over justice.

The lack of progress in the Chemmani case also raises serious concerns about Sri Lanka’s judiciary and law enforcement institutions. If justice cannot be served in a case where there are eyewitness testimonies, partial exhumations, and international attention, what hope is there for the countless other unresolved cases? The State’s failure to act sends a chilling message to victims’ families and to society at large: that justice can be indefinitely delayed or denied.

It is not only a moral failing—it is a strategic one. True national reconciliation cannot occur without accountability. The ghosts of Chemmani continue to haunt Sri Lanka because the truth has been buried alongside the victims. Denial and inaction only deepen ethnic divisions, fuel mistrust in State institutions, and hinder any meaningful process of healing.

The current Government of Sri Lanka has a choice. It can continue to bury its head in the sand, relying on blanket amnesties to the military, nationalism, and revisionist history. Or it can confront the past with honesty and dignity. As victims of State terror in 1971 and in 1987-89 periods the current administration has a duty to its own cadres to deliver justice. They need not be held hostage by the military as previous administrations were.

This means reopening the Chemmani investigation, allowing independent forensic experts to excavate the entire site, and prosecuting those found responsible—regardless of rank or affiliation. For this to be successful, international pressure, including from the United Nations Human Rights Council, must remain steadfast. But ultimately, it is Sri Lanka itself that must decide what kind of society it wants to be. Justice for Chemmani is not just about punishing perpetrators—it is about affirming the value of every human life, regardless of ethnicity or political allegiance.