Flowers on the razor wire: can a nonviolent army of trained civilians bring peace to conflict zones? Chris Richards reports from Sri Lanka on the peace movement's new frontier

New Internationalist, August, 2005 by Chris Richards

THERE were only 16 on the first night--each a parent who slept fitfully in the dirt outside the army camp, waiting to glimpse their child inside. Each remembered the last time that they had heard their children's voices--laughing in the warmth of the coastal night air, eating popcorn with friends around the figurines of four-armed Vishnus, blue Krishnas and the elephant heads of chubby Ganesh that adorned the walls of the Hindu Temple. For this was the Temple Festival--the biggest celebration in the Tamil calendar in the eastern city of Batticaloa. And on this August night in 2003, the Tamil Tigers scooped up their sleeping children--26 in all--leaving the parents without a chance even to say good-bye.

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This is not new. Abducting children from the Temple Festivals that take place on Sri Lanka's eastern coastline--around 300 each year--remains a primary recruitment method for the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). Inside the Temples drums beat until early morning as the Swami throws frangipani petals in homage to the Hindu Gods. Outside, parents talk with friends until dawn as their children sleep on the beach. They are easy targets.

Officially there have been no acts of war in Sri Lanka since the ceasefire signed on 22 February 2002: a suspension of the 19 years of civil war in which the LTTE fought the Sinhalese-dominated Government for control of the country's north and northeast. Yet, just as children are still being recruited into the LTTE, the symbols of conflict remain everywhere. Army trucks hurtle towards the east and north. The soldiers they offload stand poised in every town and village street nursing AK-47s. Military strongholds--both Tamil and Sinhalese--are being freshly sandbagged in preparation for attack. And with the passage of every day, coil upon new coil of razor wire is appearing, row upon shiny row.

'All the sides know about is how to fight war. They are experts in war, not in peace. It takes some time for them to make the transition to a new way of thinking,' explains William Knox. Knox--an ex-lawyer whose practice is now peace--has worked in Sri Lanka for over a decade, and is the Project Director for the Nonviolent Peaceforce (NP) in Sri Lanka.

In terms of the sources of the country's conflict, that new way of thinking need not be so different. The Tamils still want an independent State--Eelam. Officially their chances are remote. Indeed, if the hardline Buddhists get their way, the LTTE will be forever cast as terrorists who should take no part in government--blocked from such things as the administration of tsunami aid for the land they now informally control. As a consequence, millions of dollars urgently needed for the redevelopment of the eastern coastline devastated by the tsunami last year are--at the time of writing--still lying idle in the bank.

However, in practice the Tamils nearly have their homeland. Travelling from the south to the north, it feels like the country has already been separated. Businesses have no main offices in the north; major trade is confined to non-Tamil areas. The LTTE even collect taxes. Yet while they position themselves to administrate, the LTTE are, and always will be, an army. Until Eelam is formally acknowledged and proper elections can be held, the LTTE will be entrenched as a military dictatorship ready for war, not peace. And children will continue to be recruited into their ranks.

UNICEF recorded 3,516 cases of children abducted by the LTTE in the two and a half years after the ceasefire was signed. They are thought to be just a portion of the total. (1) An estimated 60 per cent of the LTTE's ranks are below the age of 18 - 30 per cent of them girls. Some are as young as eight. Once recruited, they are subjected to rigorous training and learn to handle weapons, including landmines and bombs.

A price too high

Each Tamil parent knows that this is the price they are expected to pay: a child to fight for 'the movement'. Some pay that price willingly, particularly during the war. As William Knox explains, Tamils say it is one of the only ways they can address the entrenched discrimination that they and their children face: 'When you talk about child recruitment, part of the equation is the structural violence that makes this possible. Government jobs are mainly given to Sinhalese. Job-creating businesses are scarce in the north and northeast. Moving south is not an option--Tamils don't speak the language, which results in further discrimination.'

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Yet other parents object. Each of the 16 parents outside the LTTE army camp believes that the price is too high. First they protest to the guards with words of reason. Then they object by their presence outside the camp--a persistent visible reminder to the soldiers inside.

Next day they are joined by others from their village: nearly 40 more parents who have undertaken the 20-kilometre walk. They too take their places outside the wire fences. 'Then the political head of the Tamils for the region just appeared,' remembers Atif Hameed. 'He told me his parents cried too when he joined the movement as a youth.'