Declare May as national month commemorating peace and trust

The right to celebrate a wholesome life, the right to mourn battlefield death 

If we want trust and unity to reign we must first mourn every single human who was killed in the battleground 

• On 18 May in 2009, the three-decade-running civil war in Sri Lanka ended
• This page had previously featured narratives by some of the former surrendered and rehabilitated militants who are experiencing normal lives today and where their children are living as exuberant teenagers who when mentioned the word ‘Sinhalese’ only see the potential of making new friends. 
• Four years ago the Harmony page introduced an annual media campaign every May promoting the month as dedicated to peace commemoration, recommending that this be the official stand of the nation, and bring to an end the chasm between the two types of memorialising 18 May in the North and South
• In the article series we ran over the years in the month of May we chose to show in different ways that the only result in any battleground is death of youth, aborted potential, economic and social destruction and unbearable misery
• We have also chosen to point out that there are no heroes in any war, only unnecessary human sacrifice triggered by ignorance, superiority and shortsighted, ad-hoc policy creation
• We have noted over the years that in any conflict there are no victors and no victory; that any parade celebrating a presumed triumph in war is smothered by invisible phantoms of beings forced to leave this earth in the prime of their human existence
• In this May edition too we will feature over the next four weeks a series of writings aimed at transformation
• We have proposed over the past years in this page and are doing so again, for the month of May in Sri Lanka to be declared as the national month of Peace and Trust 
• May as the national month of peace and trust in Sri Lanka will allow this country to set a foundation for authentic long term healing from the psyche of war mongering and also influence the rest of South Asia towards honouring and respecting differences with tolerance and dignity
• May as the national month of Peace and Trust in Sri Lanka would uphold the right to celebrate life and mourn wartime death of all living beings 
• This year we once again commence this campaign, starting off by featuring a narrative of a former military official with the Sri Lankan Armed Forces who obtained an early retirement in December 2009. He is today working in one of the leading companies in Sri Lanka as an administrative official
• On mutual agreement we withhold the identity of the interviewee taking into consideration many factors

By Surya Vishwa 

I was first introduced to Dilan (not his real name) as part of the official duties he was involved in, in a private company. It is sometime later that he mentioned that he had been in the military and retired after 24 years of service, seven months after the civil war officially ended. How our conversation got started at an informal level was when he shared that he was a cancer survivor, knowing this writer researches different forms of indigenous healing methods and diverse naturopathy options. 

He had been identified with advanced cancer in 2011 and was told that he would have at most a few months to live. Today he looks the epitome of happiness and vitality. Even a few minutes of conversation with him is enough to gauge that his thought pattern is optimistic. The frankness in his eyes and the contentment in his general facial expression showed that hate or negativity play no role in his mental processing. 

“My child was very young when I was identified with cancer. I was still in my forties and despite bleak medical warnings I was determined to live. My eating habits are now based on a consistently simple, village based diet and I ensure I practice in everyday terms the teachings of the Gautama Buddha,” he reveals. 

After hearing that he was in the military I ask him to share some of his experiences. He starts off with what he learnt from the exceptional military leadership of Major General Sunil Tennakoon, the former Jaffna District Commander during the Norway brokered peace process which lasted from April 2002 to early 2006. 

“I used to accompany Major General Tennakoon whenever he met the LTTE Jaffna District Political head C. Illamparithi in the wake of the 2004 Tsunami mayhem. We were engaging in post tsunami welfare based discussions with the LTTE assisted by the multi-national peace monitoring body, the Sri Lanka Monitoring Mission (SLMM).”

“I was struck by how he went to meet this LTTE leader. In contrast to Illamparithi who came aplomb with very high security, Major General Tennakoon chose none. His tranquil, confident, humane and decent manner was reflected in the tone in which he spoke to our then enemies and his entire body language was non aggressive which was quite the opposite of Illamparithi. 

How trust building is achieved

This really struck a chord with me. Without saying anything, he taught me through his manner on how a military officer should conduct himself. What was most interesting for me was how Illamparithi changed. He who had started off by coming to the meetings with such high security and much show and a clear high handed attitude, gradually adopted the same demeanour of Major General Tennakoon. He too soon began arriving in a simple vehicle with just one assistant. And his whole manner had changed the way he talked with us when compared to the first meetings. This was the most powerful lesson I learnt about how trust building is achieved. I believe this marked a turning point in how my mind was shaped for the balance portion of my life and led to the journey I traversed within and outside the army thereon.”

Determined to live

“I retired primarily because I had to be with my father who was ill. After retirement I was diagnosed with cancer. But I was determined to live. I checked the list of best companies in Sri Lanka and applied to several of them. The company that responded had a top management consisting of both Sinhala and Tamil professionals. The person who recruited me was a Sri Lankan Tamil. Again, just as I learnt from Major General Sunil Tennakoon, I learnt from this humane being about the power of trust as well as empathy. Not once did the fact that I had served in the military create any bias in him.

I was treated with the highest of respect and when the company heard that I was battling cancer, there was no reluctance to keep me on the job I really needed at that point. Not only did I continue to be employed but also recommended by my Tamil ethnicity human resource section based official for whatever support I needed to deal with my illness to be provided by the company. I was someone who was told by Allopathy doctors that I will live only a few months. My determination to survive was magnified through the kindness shown by the Tamil official of this institution and also the overall top most management. 

To see my child who was then very young become an adult was bolstered by this support I received. This was over 14 years ago and I am not just alive but feel alive. Over the years working closely with many Sri Lankan Tamil bosses and colleagues in this company I learnt so much about my fellow citizens that I had not known.”

At this point of him sharing a significant part of his life journey with me, he was obviously overwhelmed with emotion. We were drinking some coffee and I allowed him sometime to regain his composure. 

We continued our conversation and the discussion centred on the politicised drama of sorts we have been having every year in the month of May, for the past 15 years with the swaggering of war victory in the South and the prevention of mourning of battle dead persons in the North.

“This is something I am very clear about,” he continues. 

Every life was a human life

“If we want trust and unity to reign we must first mourn every single human who was killed in the battleground. Every life was a human life. This is what Buddhism has taught me. This is the truth. We have to mourn the fact that such a paradise like Sri Lanka ended up as a crematorium where young Sinhalese and Tamils who share so much commonality in culture and religious observances and beliefs became enemies of each other.”

“I am from a village in central province in Sri Lanka. I know the boys who served in the army with me. I know the pure nature of their hearts and how family oriented they are. After the cessation of military hostilities on 18 May, I saw this same essence in the young men and women who served the LTTE and surrendered. I was in the rehabilitation centres and I saw how much of the pure innocence of the Sinhala village youth resonated from these Tamil youth. Soon after they were detained in the immediate aftermath of the conflict, I still remember the bewildered look in their eyes as some of them in their twenties looked up at me.

Caught up in fate these two groups of youth who could have been otherwise interacting freely with each other were in two different camps separated as foes. What more can I say. We who served in the military have many stories to recount. Each story would vary. But if you ask me what I carry from then to now it is unspeakable sorrow. I grieve for my brother who joined the Air Force and died while flying when his place was shot down, breaking my father’s heart. I mourn every single Sinhala and Tamil mother who had to bury their children or to live without ever seeing their bodies.” 

“So do I, as a former military personnel have a problem with the Tamils in the North commemorating whoever that died in this terrible civil war? Not at all. Any right thinking person would not.

Do I feel comfortable with grand military victory parades held here in Colombo? No.

I feel the nauseating sense of loss when I think of the thousands of young Sinhala youth who paid the ultimate sacrifice with their lives but I think to honour the blood they shed and the lives they exited or maimed, the one thing that we should do is at least now think of a way to commonly uphold 18 May as a day that forever respect the sanctity of life, peace and the human right to heal from the wounds of war.’

As we conclude the conversation and I leave him, I watch him gaze out of the glass window that overlook the hills of Kandy. 

I walk away thinking how many mountains of self-realisation an individual must ascend before he merits to be called a ‘human being.’ And if this is collectively done with diligent mindfulness it is what a nation could parade every day witnessed through wise policy creation that give pride of place to equality and not to petty ego.

We end this piece of writing with the fervent wish that these words would not just be more sentences in a newspaper but that which will transpire into action.