Last week, Sri Lankan police shot dead yet another Tamil child. The killing of 17-year-old Albino Arul Pius in Jaffna, the attempted cover-up that followed, and the complete absence of accountability for the murder, are part of a grim and familiar cycle. For decades, such violence has made clear that the Sri Lankan state does not value Tamil lives, no matter which government sits in Colombo.
The facts of the case are stark. A teenager was shot dead after police opened fire on a vehicle, claiming it failed to stop at a checkpoint. This is not a new defence from the occupying forces. The police have repeatedly justified lethal force under this exact pretence. It was precisely this excuse that was used in 2016, when Jaffna University students Sulakshan and Gajan were both shot dead. It is a claim that collapses under even the most basic scrutiny. There was no threat and no justification for shooting a person in the head.
What followed the killing of Arul demonstrated how quickly the Sri Lankan security forces act to cover up their crimes. Within hours, police attempted to muddy the facts around the case, claiming that the teenager was 19 years old rather than 17. The attempt to reclassify a child as an adult, to dilute public anger and deflect scrutiny, was as callous as it was calculated. Reports that officers sought to intimidate his grieving family and discourage protest only further expose the culture of impunity that permeates Sri Lanka’s security apparatus. These are institutions that have shown themselves, time and again, to be beyond reform.
Some argue that such extrajudicial killings occur across the island, regardless of whether the victim is Tamil, Muslim, or Sinhala. That is partly true and only reflects how rotten the entire security forces are. The institution’s culture of shooting first and asking questions later is one that has festered from decades of unchecked abuse. Every such incident should elicit outrage.
But there can be no denying that these killings occur disproportionately in the North-East. Just like harassment of political activists, the intimidation of human rights advocates and the killing of journalists, the sheer numbers clearly demonstrate that Tamils have been the Sri Lankan state’s primary target. There is a racist logic behind this violence.
This shooting must also be understood within the broader context of the Tamil homeland, which continues to be constrained by two fundamental issues.
Firstly, there is the military occupation that continues to shape almost every interaction between the Tamil people and the Sri Lankan state. Nearly seventeen years after the end of the armed conflict, the North-East remains under the grip of an extensive security architecture that includes the military, police, intelligence units and paramilitary networks. Civilian life is still hindered by surveillance, checkpoints and constant harassment.
This has economic impacts too. The ongoing occupation of land, restrictions on traditional livelihoods and the underdevelopment of the North-East have forced many Tamil families into precarity. It is within this context that a 17-year-old boy is forced to work, to drive without a licence, to take risks in order to earn a living. The violence that killed him did not begin with the gunshot. It began with the structures that made his vulnerability inevitable.
Second is the tragic truth that despite the outrage this case has generated, such killings will continue. Sri Lanka’s record of impunity ensures it. The Tamil homeland is scarred by massacres, extrajudicial killings and enforced disappearances for which no perpetrator has been held to account. The systematic refusal to hold any perpetrators to account has emboldened successive generations of Sri Lankan security personnel. Each killing that goes unpunished sends a clear message: Tamil lives can be taken without consequence.
Ending this cycle requires tackling those two enduring obstacles directly. It demands the dismantling of the militarised security apparatus that governs the Tamil homeland and the establishment of genuine international accountability mechanisms capable of delivering justice where Colombo has consistently failed.
Yet the current regime, like those before it, has shown little appetite to enact such change.
Above all, this week has once again exposed a truth that Tamils have long known. The Sri Lankan state will not protect the lives or rights of the Tamil people. That is why Tamils earlier this month, pulled down Sri Lankan flags and raised black flags once more. That is why they continue to demand liberation and sovereignty of their own.
That is the only way to protect the nation.
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Illustration: Keera Ratnam