By M.R. Narayan Swamy
“If we have to vote, who should get our vote?” a middle-aged Tamil man asked a friend at a social event in Jaffna.
The innocuous query betrayed a sense of confusion that prevails in the minds of many Tamils in Sri Lanka, nearly two years after they jolted the traditional Tamil parties in parliamentary elections almost everywhere.
Tamils admit they have always seen the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), the country’s dominant ruling party, as a Sinhala-Buddhist entity. But a JVP magic that gripped voters in late 2024 has not totally abated.
No, their main and long-standing problems — civilian land still occupied by the military, the lack of justice for those killed or disappeared after surrendering in 2008–09, and a general sense of intimidation by the state — have not gone away. And there is no sign of when the government will take meaningful action on these issues.
Yet, the JVP-led government is widely seen to be doing “something”, even if the material benefits – a lane or road laid here, ensuring potable water, setting up new infrastructure – are too localised.
At the same time, there has been no visible progress on some of the major projects planned for Tamil areas, including those funded by India. These include repeated promises to expand the Palaly Airport and the Kankesanthurai Harbour in northern Jaffna.
Cleverly, the JVP – unlike earlier regimes – allows overt display of Tamil nationalist feelings.
There is no bar if Tamil parties or others mark the day Tamil Tigers chief Velupillai Prabhakaran was killed in 2009, besides thousands of innocents.
Ditto for the emotionally-charged annual display of “Martyrs’ Day” when Tamils gather in large numbers at sites where Tamil guerrillas were laid to rest.
When a maverick but pro-Tamil nationalist politician publicly appealed for funds to treat his serious kidney ailment, local JVP leaders immediately called on him.
The other day, one of the JVP MPs from Sri Lanka’s north gifted Rs 1 lakh of his personal money to a former Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) guerrilla who is medically in a bad way.
As for President Anura Dissanayake, he continues to be popular in Tamil areas. He is the public face of the JVP, a Marxist party which once carried out two armed insurrections, leaving thousands dead.
This is, without doubt, the biggest trump card for the JVP in that part of the island which always voted for Tamil parties and rejected Sinhalese-Buddhist political actors.
Naturally, Tamil parties and their leaders – some more popular than the others -- are frustrated, although they don’t show their disappointment.
As far as Tamil parties and sections of the more politically conscious Tamils are concerned, the JVP is no different from other outfits which draw their main strength from the majority Sinhalese community.
And the Tamil leaders have enough to back their complaint.
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, for example, promised during the 2024 campaign that elections to the provincial councils would be held within a year.
Now, a top leader of the Marxist party has ruled out the elections in all of Sri Lanka’s nine provinces in 2026, citing a financial crunch.
There is uncertainty over whether these elections will take place even in 2027, as the JVP wants to introduce reservations for women and youth — a welcome initiative, but one that is likely to take many months to complete.
The idea for provincial councils was born when Sri Lanka and India signed an agreement in 1987 in a bid to end Tamil separatism.
In the Tamil-majority north and the multi-racial east, where Tamils live in large numbers, the councils were seen as a democratic alternative to separatism, whose seeds were sown long ago due to what many Tamils saw as an attempt to treat them as second-grade citizens.
Tamil leaders are furious over the axing of the promised elections. They are convinced the JVP fears the electorate due to unending economic hardships – the very factor which catapulted the party to power after the devastating financial crash of 2022.
The Tamil political sentiment is unequivocal: They have cheated us. We have been betrayed. They are no different from others.
K. Vigneswaran, who has been in politics for decades but who is a small player today, has even told Tamils to stop daydreaming that a JVP government would ever give them any meaningful concessions.
The fact is that the JVP bitterly opposed the 1987 India-Sri Lanka accord, under which Indian troops came to Sri Lanka’s northeast and ended up fighting the Tamil Tigers.
Since the Indian military deployment was seen as a national shame, everything from the pact is also sought to be rejected.
The provincial councils were never a favorite of the JVP. But the party promised to hold their elections by September 2025. That pledge has now been broken.
Provincial councils allow elected leaders — Muslim, Tamil, or Sinhalese — to manage their own affairs within their respective regions. They represent a limited form of devolution of power and serve as a regional safety valve.
But while denying the people the right to elect provincial councils, the JVP has launched Prajashakti, a government-led national programme to battle poverty.
On the face of it, this is welcome. But critics say its real aim is to bypass elected leaders from other political shades with JVP-chosen representatives.
This aims at building a parallel power structure so that others get pushed to the side, and all credit for whatever good happens accrues to the Marxist-led government.
At the same time, the government has moved only haltingly on returning Tamil civilian land seized by the military during the war against Tamil rebels, which ended back in 2009.
Even here, some Tamils say President Dissanayake wants to return the land but is unable to overcome the military’s refusal to part with what it illegally holds.
To add insult to injury, the occupied land is now also being used for commercial purposes like restaurants, farming, and boutiques, or to propagate Buddhism.
JVP’s powerful general secretary Tilvin Silva, the most influential person in Sri Lanka after the president, despite not having a government post, is telling Tamils to reject their traditional leadership.
The JVP, he says, stands for equality, not for the superiority of one race or religion over another.
Pious words, say Tamil leaders, wondering if he would dare say that to the Buddhist clergy who enjoy special privileges in the Sinhalese society.
Unfortunately for the Tamils, their mainstream politicians are a bitterly divided lot, fighting one another more than the government. This ugly internecine war disgusts ordinary Tamils.
All this does not mean that Tamils have fallen in love with the JVP or have irrevocably turned their backs on their traditional leaders.
As a Jaffna academic points out, a bizarre phenomenon has gripped the Tamil areas.
“The JVP has an office on Palaly Road (in Jaffna). Anyone can go there and lodge a complaint. Petty issues are often settled rapidly,” the academic said. “This pleases the people. So, many say, ‘Well, they are at least doing something, right?’”
However, unless something dramatic happens, the JVP won’t be able to repeat its whirlwind showing in future elections in Tamil areas.
For a change, the anger against the JVP in Sinhalese areas seems more intense than in the Tamil region.
President Dissanayake, as a person, still enjoys a honeymoon period amongst Tamils. But this too won’t last forever.
Tamils who feel cheated of their family land are unlikely to forget that the president had promised to undo historical wrongs.
Women in Tamil regions still seeking answers about their disappeared husbands, brothers, and sons will not always be forgiving, even if age is not on their side.
Worse, the economic collapse that struck Sri Lanka in 2022 has not fully gone away. Tamil areas, the former war zone, remain among the worst affected — even 17 years after the fighting ended.
Large sections of the Tamil population are clearly caught between a well-organized and strategic JVP and Tamil political leaders of various shades and loyalties.
