When genocidaires come for tea

Last week, Sri Lanka received a brief visit by the United Kingdom’s Deputy Prime Minister David Lammy. By all official accounts, the visit was cordial. Photographs were taken, hands were shaken, and diplomatic pleasantries were exchanged. From a purely bilateral perspective, there is little value in manufacturing friction. Sri Lanka remains economically vulnerable. It relies on multilateral goodwill, trade access, tourism flows, and diplomatic cooperation. In such a context, governments act with caution. Protocol demands courtesy and diplomacy demands restraint.

But governments are not peoples. And citizens are not bound by diplomatic choreography.

Sri Lankans, unlike their officials, are not required to perform the niceties of statecraft. They are free to judge visiting dignitaries not by smiles in Colombo but by actions on the world stage. And in the case of David Lammy, that record demands scrutiny.

During Israel’s ongoing assault on Gaza, Lammy, previously serving as Foreign Secretary, consistently refused to characterise the campaign as genocide, even as civilian infrastructure was flattened, hospitals were overwhelmed, humanitarian agencies warned of mass starvation and numerous UN bodies determined there was genocide against the Palestinian population in Gaza. The destruction of homes, schools, and universities, the poisoning of water systems, and the collective punishment of an entire population were met not with moral clarity from London, but with diplomatic shielding. The UK offered political cover at the United Nations and maintained military cooperation. Whether framed as “Israel’s right to defend itself” or strategic alliance, the effect was the same, abetting a genocide.

The colours of empire may have faded from maps, but their logic persists in policy. Recently, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, urged Europe not to apologise for its colonial past but to celebrate it when it was “great.” The romanticising of empire, of slavery, conquest, and subjugation, is no longer whispered in fringe corners but is stated openly in mainstream politics. Notably, London did not rush to distance itself from such rhetoric. Silence, too, is a position.

Britain presided over one of the most extensive and brutal imperial systems in human history. From famine in Bengal to concentration camps in Kenya, from partitioned lands to engineered ethnic divisions, the legacy is documented and undeniable. Yet contemporary British leadership may not say it as Winston Churchill once did, that Palestinians are dogs in a manger who do not have rights to that property, but their actions do speak loudly that the racial policies of subjugation and genocide persist.

When figures like Lammy arrive in former colonies, meeting minority groups and offering reassurances of support, the optics are layered. Advocacy for minority rights is essential and legitimate. Yet when it comes from those who are enabling an ongoing ethnic cleansing and genocide such sentiments ring hollow and more interventionist and imperialist.

Sri Lanka’s Government may quite rightly judge that maintaining smooth relations with the UK serves the national interest. That is its prerogative. Economic recovery demands pragmatism. But citizens need not suspend their ethical judgment for the sake of protocol. Calling out genocide enablers like Lammy is not anti-diplomatic.  It is morally consistent and a necessity for record, that the rest of the world sees them for who they are and the Sri Lankan public is under no obligation to join the applause. When genocidaires come for tea, civility may be extended by the state. Clarity must be maintained by the people.