Returning to Jaffna, we rediscovered friendships that had grown stronger than some of the familial ties we had nurtured over the years. Jaffna—once an unfamiliar territory for me at the beginning of my journalism career—soon became as familiar as home. That transformation began on a Monday evening when Thushara called and asked if I could make the journey north. At that time, I was an inexperienced journalist, traveling to Jaffna in the newspaper office’s van without any knowledge of the roads or ports.
Upon arrival, I was introduced to the heart of Jaffna by Comrade Madhav Kulasuriya, a veteran reporter from Vavuniya, who had extensively covered news from the peninsula for Sri Lanka. His deep connections with the people of Jaffna allowed me to navigate spaces and experiences that would have otherwise remained inaccessible. Those early days shaped my understanding of the region, and even today, that environment keeps me engaged in Jaffna.
Unveiling the Reality of Jaffna
Our journey was driven by a desire to understand the true state of affairs in Jaffna. We wanted to verify whether the perceptions of Jaffna held in the South—the narratives, imagery, and sentiments—aligned with reality. Were remnants of war, such as Claymore mines, still surfacing beneath the palm fronds? Did elders still sit in their white sand courtyards at night, reminiscing about the past? Could one still detect the scent of burnt flowers lingering in temple air? Were the ivory-complexioned Iyer girls still seen wearing red saris in temples? We sought answers to these questions.
During this journey, a Jaffna figure once asked me, “Have you ever been to Jaffna?” The inquiry came from a man heralded as a hero in Southern newspapers and television channels. That day, I replied with confidence—I knew every corner of Jaffna. Though he may have laughed privately at my assertion, I knew that to truly narrate the real story, the real pain, sorrow, and resilience of Jaffna’s people, one had to go beyond surface-level observations.
Jaffna cannot be understood from a distance. It is not a place where one can merely wander its outskirts and claim to know its soul. To truly grasp its essence, one must live among its people—stay in a Jaffna household, share meals of tosa vade and milk chutney, play khaiya in the evening, walk its streets, attend funerals, weddings, and experience the pulse of everyday life. Only then can one comprehend the realities of Jaffna.
Even today, I emphasize that Jaffna’s primary concern is vastly different from the challenges in the South. The issue that dominates its social landscape is caste. Regardless of who holds the presidency—be it Mahinda, Ranil, Anura, or even Prabhakaran—what matters most to Jaffna’s people is the caste of their doctor, their judge, their District Administrator, and their Grama Sevaka. Everything else is secondary to this deeply entrenched social hierarchy. Anyone seeking to understand Jaffna must read between the lines of this complex reality.
The Changing Political Landscape in the North
I am aware that some may take offense at my words. But we engaged directly with the people, asking whether Jaffna was experiencing any form of political resurgence. For decades, Jaffna has remained politically distinct, predominantly backing the Tamil United Liberation Front (TULF) or its allied factions. Today, a new political movement, shaped by both southern and northern influences, is emerging in Sri Lanka.
Historically, leaders like Sambanthan, Wigneswaran, and Sumanthiran led the Tamil political narrative. The responsibility to carry this forward was handed to Sridharan. There have been conflicting reports regarding Sridharan’s role—some claim he is the principal of Dharmapuram School, while others dispute it. Regardless, it has become apparent that he lacks significant political influence in the North.
The decline of the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) appears imminent, largely due to Sridharan’s political missteps. Allegations of financial dealings and his reliance on diaspora funding have tainted his image. Additionally, the Iranamadu reservoir issue has exacerbated frustrations. Despite the excess water from the reservoir flowing into the sea, Sridharan has failed to implement a proper distribution system to benefit the agricultural areas of Kilinochchi and Jaffna. His unfulfilled promises have fueled growing discontent among the people.
The Rise of Archuna and Political Aspirations
At this juncture, the North is in search of a leader who can genuinely resonate with its people. Whenever such a vacuum emerges, individuals seeking political prominence arise like mushrooms after the rain. One such figure is Archuna. Though politically inexperienced, he has gained recognition across Jaffna. Unlike Sridharan, Archuna’s influence extends beyond Northern politics—he is positioning himself as a player in global Tamil politics.
Despite concerns about his rhetoric—centered on themes of Tamil oppression and historical injustices—his messaging effectively appeals to rural communities in Jaffna and Kilinochchi. His ability to harness these sentiments has not gone unnoticed.
JVP’s Appeal in the North
We also questioned whether the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), now known as the Compass, still commands public affection in Jaffna. When Anura Kumara Dissanayake visited, thousands flocked to see him. The warmth displayed towards him was genuine.
However, historical precedents remind us that Northern political enthusiasm does not always translate into unwavering loyalty. A 76-year-old villager in Jaffna recounted how, during Mahinda Rajapaksa’s visit, he organized six busloads of people to witness the Southern leader’s arrival. But it was not love or loyalty that drove them—it was curiosity.
Northern Sri Lankans, much like their Southern counterparts, yearn for leadership figures they can relate to. They do not seek division or war. Instead, they long to feel a sense of belonging, to affirm that this land is theirs too.
Challenges in Jaffna: Governance and Policing
Traveling through Jaffna is not without challenges. Encounters with the police are frequent and often frustrating. At Mankulam, officers stopped our vehicle, claiming the brake lights were malfunctioning. They suggested I return after fixing them, an impossible demand given that I reside in Gampaha.
Such encounters illustrate deeper governance issues. The North needs officials who understand its complexities, not transient administrators who merely pass through. Officers like Ananda Rajapaksa, once known as “Gandhi” among locals, left lasting impressions because they connected with the people. If lasting peace is to be achieved, competent and empathetic officials must be reinstated.
Jaffna’s Future: A Unified Sri Lanka?
The people of the North do not wish for war. If anyone claims otherwise, they are mistaken. Those who have endured the brutalities of war fear its return the most. Dr. Ratnam, who treated LTTE members, often emphasizes that the suffering in the North was far worse than what was perceived in the South.
That said, the delicate peace in Jaffna is not guaranteed. There are forces at play—some fostering unity, others sowing discord. If leaders fail to navigate this reality wisely, the consequences could be severe.
Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there is hope. The cultural richness of Jaffna, embodied in moments like a Bharatanatyam performance at Nallur Kovil, highlights the potential for unity. We once dreamed of a day when Jaffna’s traditional dances, Kandyan dance from the highlands, and Southern dance forms could converge in one performance. That day has arrived—symbolically, at least.
Through politics and the power of democracy, Anura Kumara Dissanayake has brought the North and South closer. It is now up to us, the people, to continue this work. If we succeed, we can proudly say that Sri Lanka is one nation, where Northerners and Southerners can stand together, not as adversaries, but as one people.
Jeewana Pahan Thilina
