Silent Spring

The Sri Lanka protests fail to reconcile with the country's past or present/Politics

- VIRUBEN NANDAKUMAR

On 4 May, a crowd of Tamils gathered in a small tent by the roadside in Vavuniya, a city in Sri Lanka’s Northern Province. Behind them was a wall plastered with the photos of family members who were last seen in the custody of the Sri Lanka Army. Many held up photos of those forcibly disappeared, not only as reminders of their loved ones but in the hopes of being reunited with them. It was a sombre demonstration that garnered minimal international coverage. They had been protesting for almost two thousand days and had received little attention, and much scorn, from the Sri Lankan government.

Meanwhile, on Galle Face, an oceanside urban park in Colombo, a very different protest was taking place. The sound of trumpets and drums blared into the night as Sri Lankans chanted, “Go Home Gota.” They hoisted the country’s flag, emblazoned with the Sinhala lion, as a sign of what they believed was national unity. The Guardian reported that people were describing the moment as “Sri Lanka’s Arab Spring.” Jehan Perera, the executive director of the National Peace Council of Sri Lanka—a Colombo-based NGO—told the newspaper that “people from all communities are coming out onto the streets, I have never seen it before.” One demonstrator told the BBC, “Look: the Muslims are here, the Hindus are here, the Catholics are here. All the same blood.” The same report quoted a Buddhist monk saying, “Sri Lanka has become one united nation.”