Interestingly, in post-conflict nations, many feel truth commissions and reconciliation processes haven't effectively addressed systemic issues
Appointing toothless commissions to investigate alleged crimes and conduct fact-finding is a recurring issue, with some commissions genuinely seeking the truth to implement comprehensive measures preventing recurrence, while others merely aim to buy time and conceal the truth. Regardless of intent, the plight of individuals remains unchanged until addressed, necessitating profound restructuring to mitigate the root causes behind violent social upheavals. Unfortunately, history has shown that democracy has not consistently triumphed. Politicians in post-conflict nations, the so-called liberal democracies, and most of their darling NGOs deliberately ignore democratically resolving the structural problems afflicting broken democracies, often treating victims as mere commodities.
Following nearly 15 years of persistent armed conflict, Sri Lanka has once again reached a pivotal moment with the introduction of a bill to establish the Commission for Truth, Unity, and Reconciliation, marking a significant stride forward. Though belated, this move is undeniably commendable. Against a backdrop of news stories sowing social phobia and fostering negativity among the general public, this development provides a glimmer of hope during precarious times.
The bill, presented as an act, outlines the establishment of the Commission for Truth, Unity, and Reconciliation in Sri Lanka, defining its powers and functions. It further emphasises the necessity of monitoring the implementation of the commission's recommendations to ensure accountability. Recognising truth-seeking as a fundamental right for all Sri Lankans, integral to their right to an effective remedy, the bill underscores the potential contributions of such mechanisms to national unity, peace, the rule of law, coexistence, equality with tolerance, respect for diversity, and reconciliation. The ultimate goal is to prevent disharmony and violence, securing the well-being of all Sri Lankans, including future generations.
The commitment extends to a national policy of truth-seeking and the advancement of national unity and reconciliation, reinforcing the State's assurance of freedom, equality, justice, fundamental human rights, and the independence of the judiciary as recognised under the Constitution. The Commission for Truth, Unity, and Reconciliation, to be headed by a chairperson and supported by established regional offices, shall be comprised of not fewer than seven and not more than twenty-one members.
According to the bill's stated objectives, the Commission is mandated to investigate, inquire, and provide recommendations regarding complaints, allegations, or reports related to damage or harm to persons or property, loss of life, or alleged human rights violations anywhere in Sri Lanka. These incidents must be connected to, or consequent to, the conflict in the Northern and Eastern Provinces during the period 1983 to 2009, or its aftermath. However, echoing the pattern of other commissions, it is underscored that the Commission's recommendations do not constitute a determination of civil or criminal liability for any individual.
This moment prompts me to reflect on the invaluable experiences I gained during my tenure at the Office of National Unity and Reconciliation (ONUR) as a communication consultant, under the distinguished leadership of former President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga. She, with whom we have shared a memorable time in addressing the most sensitive issue in the country, struggled with serious structural degeneration caused by the malpractices of those who wielded power. Her remarkable efforts to bridge ethnic divides in the country were a clear demonstration of her commitment to fostering unity. She never hesitated to acknowledge and categorize any wrong political decisions, whether made by her or even her immediate family members, which I find truly inspirational.
ONUR was established with noble aspirations of achieving lasting peace. However, amidst political uncertainty, the initiatives of this national institute plunged into the abyss of eclipse. In those days, ONUR undertook comprehensive initiatives, addressing issues beyond the surface. We not only engaged with Colombo-based NGOs, which were merely challenging the prevailing narrative that often prioritised a select few while neglecting those in remote areas, but ventured into the North and East. It was remarkable to witness former Tamil Tigers expressing confidence in the central government's efforts and the state administrative mechanism to rebuild and reunite their families—an aspect seldom highlighted.
Among ONUR's key projects was Sahodara Pasal, where around a hundred students from various ethnicities, attending different schools, spent a week together in one place. At an event in Kandy, three female students, representing Sinhala, Tamil, and Muslim backgrounds, stood united against the rain, sharing a single hijab as a symbol of strength and diversity. Despite initial misconceptions, these students developed bonds transcending ethnic lines, hugging and crying at the program's end, pledging lasting friendships. Unfortunately, when I revisited ONUR three years later, the prioritisation of crucial social integration initiatives like Sahodara Pasal had waned. This neglect poses a risk of growing disparity and division, deviating from the path toward true unity and reconciliation.
The irony lies in the disillusionment of people in numerous post-conflict countries that established truth and reconciliation commissions, including Argentina, Guatemala, Liberia, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Peru, Nepal, and even the much-praised South Africa. They harbour a collective sentiment that most truth commissions and reconciliation processes have failed to address their systemic issues. What prevails is an overarching politicisation, a malaise that transcends past truths and impedes their ability to break free. To truly escape their plight, they must depoliticise their tragic experiences, reclaim suppressed freedoms, and radically reshape their dismal reality. The key lies in inventing a new form of political solidarity that transcends national, ethnic, cultural, and religious identities—a bold move to build bridges over mass graves and ruins. Deep and thorough reconciliation alone cannot achieve this, as it inherently aligns with the status quo, perpetuating existing power relations and ideological deadlocks that bear the true responsibility for the tragedy. Victims seek more than reconciliation; they yearn for recognition of their tragic fate, a political cause to emerge from victimhood. Humanitarian assistance, spanning from necessities to weaponry, proves inadequate; genuine liberation arises not from aid but from unwavering political solidarity—a steadfast dedication to freeing them from a decade-long ordeal.
History paints a consistent narrative of conflicts as an inherent facet of human civilisation, profoundly shaping humanity's trajectory. Sri Lanka is not an exception. Svetlana Alexievich aptly notes war's enigmatic hold on the human experience and its enduring impact on societies. Despite its monumental significance, there's a tendency to downplay the seriousness of war. The grim and daunting nature of conflicts may tempt us to avert our gaze, but avoidance doesn't diminish their historical weight. Wars have consistently redirected the course of human history, both by forging new pathways into the future and closing down others.
Recognising the transformative impact of conflicts underscores the paramount importance of reconciliation. More than a mere talk show or commodity, reconciliation embodies a profoundly humanistic approach to our daily life engagement. It acknowledges the intricate aftermath of war, emphasising the imperative for societies to unite, heal, and carve a path toward more harmonious coexistence. Prioritising reconciliation signifies a commitment to understanding the human dimensions of conflict, nurturing empathy, rebuilding trust, and ultimately striving for a future that transcends the scars of the past. In this light, reconciliation isn't just a historical necessity but an indispensable element in shaping a more compassionate and interconnected world.
Genuine reconciliation drives national consensus, inevitably guiding the nation toward steadfast national interests—the foundational principles of a truly national state. If our education system perpetuates religious and exclusivist ideologies, no matter how empathetic our discourse about victims of a conflict that ended 15 years ago, the seeds of hatred will persist, waiting to explode—an ominous lesson from history.
(The writer is a Sri Lankan journalist and worked as a communications consultant for the Government of Sri Lanka. Views are personal)
