As a journalist closely connected to the people of Jaffna, I carry the weight of stories from Sri Lanka’s North—stories of families torn apart, dreams interrupted, and lives forever changed by decades of conflict. Though I was too young to witness the war firsthand, having only completed my A-levels when it ended, my subsequent journeys to the North have given me intimate knowledge of the struggles that continue to define Northern communities.
The War’s Unfinished Business
While many in the South may believe the war is behind us, the reality in the North tells a different story. The conflict remains a haunting presence in the daily lives of Northern families. This isn’t merely about memory—it’s about ongoing pain that has never been properly acknowledged or addressed.
The difference in how the war affected the North versus the South is stark and undeniable. In the South, while we lost brave soldiers and felt the economic burden of conflict, most families remained intact. Our homes stayed standing, our businesses continued, and our children slept safely in their beds. But in the North, entire families were shattered. Parents still search for missing children without even death certificates to provide closure. Homes, businesses, and entire life trajectories were destroyed. Limbs were lost, livelihoods vanished, and communities were scattered to the winds.
Honoring All Who Served and Suffered
I want to be clear: our war heroes deserve every bit of honor they receive. These soldiers didn’t fight for personal gain or to protect their immediate families—they fought for an ideal, for the preservation of our nation against the LTTE terrorist organization. They battled not against the Tamil people, but against those who chose violence regardless of their ethnicity or religion. They were paid for their service, but they fought with genuine conviction for something greater than themselves.
We rightfully commemorate these heroes. Their mothers travel to Colombo, find their children’s names carved in stone, offer flowers and light lamps, and return home with hearts heavy with grief but also filled with pride. Their children died as recognized heroes, celebrated with victory songs, fireworks, and national gratitude.
A President’s Moment of Truth
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake recently demonstrated true leadership when he acknowledged at a Southern war heroes’ commemoration that “mothers in the North also feel this pain.” This statement reveals his understanding that he governs not just the South, not just the Sinhalese, but all of Sri Lanka. Too many of his predecessors failed to grasp this fundamental truth, thinking they could lead by appealing only to their base while ignoring entire regions of the country.
The Other Mothers
But what of the mothers in the North? We’ve seen heartbreaking images of these women—writhing in anguish, uncertain whether their own commemorations would be permitted or scattered by authorities. These mothers grieve children whose deaths may never be officially recognized, whose sacrifices will never be carved in stone, whose memory is treated as dangerous rather than sacred.
The fact that we now allow these mothers to light lamps for their lost children should be viewed as an act of national healing, not governmental tolerance. These women feel the same pain of childbirth, raised children who cried the same tears and drank the same mother’s milk. The blood in their veins runs just as red as ours.
The Path Forward
This year’s commemorations offered hope. For the first time, we witnessed genuine tolerance—allowing Northern mothers to grieve publicly, to honor their losses, to express their pain without suppression. This represents real progress toward lasting peace.
If we can maintain this spirit of mutual recognition for another decade, no group in Sri Lanka will ever again feel compelled to take up arms against the state. They will understand, in their hearts and minds, that this is Sri Lanka, that we are all Sri Lankans, and that our true enemies are external forces seeking to divide us, not each other.
Celebrating Peace, Not Victory
War heroes’ commemorations are important and meaningful. We should continue honoring those who sacrificed for our nation. However, we must be careful about how we frame these remembrances. Wars are not “won”—they simply end. When conflicts conclude, we can feel relief and pride in our survival and reconciliation. We can respect those who helped end the violence.
But we cannot sing victory songs while others mourn defeat, because victory implies someone else’s loss. When the defeated harbor dreams of future triumph, when graves are built in opposition to monuments, when separate celebrations divide rather than unite us, we have not truly achieved peace.
A Shared Future
True celebration comes when we can stand together—all Sri Lankans—honoring the end of conflict rather than claiming victory over one another. When we can collectively mourn all who died, regardless of which side they served. When we can share the joy of being able to live together on this island we all call home.
Only then will we have moved beyond war to genuine peace. Only then will our commemorations heal rather than divide. Only then will we be truly free from the shadows of our painful past.
