Continuing with the third part of our interview [ Read Part One and Part Two], Jayantha Gnanakone’s words become even more impassioned as he delves deeper into the serious, ongoing struggles faced by the Tamil population in the north and east of Sri Lanka. Gnanakone offers an unflinching critique of the government’s actions—or rather, inaction—on the issues that have been persistently ignored. His concern is palpable as he speaks candidly about the need for real solutions and the importance of not succumbing to symbolic gestures. He cuts through political niceties and demands that Sri Lanka’s authorities take concrete steps to address the disparities and injustices that continue to plague the region.
“So, it is a joke and they want to know. So, now, what is the way out? Prepare to fund the runway. The runway difference is only 500 feet each direction,” Gnanakone begins. His frustration is unmistakable as he dismisses the complexities often claimed by officials. For him, the solution to improving the region’s infrastructure is simple and achievable. “We do not need to extend the runway even,” he continues, urging the enhancement of existing infrastructure rather than grandiose plans. The airport in the north, he asserts, could be a game-changer, stimulating local businesses, opening up economic opportunities, and fostering better connections with the rest of Sri Lanka and even internationally. It is not a pipe dream, he insists. It is entirely feasible—if only the political will were there.
But Gnanakone is quick to turn his attention to the much deeper issues that have been festering for years, highlighting the government’s failure to act. “You say that so many stories are there. On the other side, the poaching issue, the Indian fishermen are coming. That is a very serious issue,” he points out, expressing his concern about the Indian fishermen who have been repeatedly encroaching on Sri Lankan waters. This issue, for Gnanakone, is not just an economic one; it is also a matter of national sovereignty. He describes it as a long-standing problem that has not been properly addressed, further exacerbating the sense of abandonment felt by the Tamil population in the north and east. As if that weren’t enough, Gnanakone speaks of the more insidious problems plaguing the region, saying, “That is the Indian poaching. What is the other one you said? The other one is drug trafficking, Unemployment and the corruption within the Tamil industry by certain Tamil people, on Tamil people.”
Gnanakone paints a bleak picture of how systemic issues like drug trafficking, alcoholism, prostitution of youth, unemployment, nepotism, cronyism, bribery and corruption intertwine to keep the Tamil community in a state of perpetual struggle, and depression. It’s not just external threats that the people face—there is deep internal exploitation that is just as damaging. “There is a severe exploitation of the Tamils by people like the Karavatti Pradeshya Sabha,” he explains, citing specific examples of how local authorities and businesses have been exploiting poor, financially challenged, illiterate, and ignorant traders. He is quick to name individuals, offering a stark depiction of how systemic corruption undermines the welfare, and well being of the Tamil people. “There is a senior official named Kamsanathan, and I have already complained on behalf of many traders that he is in connivance with the ruthless contractor, named S. Suthahar aka Kannan aka Kattayan” Gnanakone’s words are blunt and direct: the corruption has reached deep into local governance, and it is wreaking havoc on the lives of ordinary people, people such as poor traders and helpless customers.
He shares alarming stories of threats,intimidation, and harassement, with potential violence. Recounting, “This Kamsanathan bullies the traders on behalf of his partner in crime, Suthahar who threatens traders who have been suddenly charged extremely high rates violating the PS regulations and rules! If you don’t pay the higher rent, I will throw you out and physically violate you. The women trader who are widows and so on.” It is a chilling example of how deeply entrenched corruption manifests itself in the day-to-day lives of the helpless traders. Gnanakone’s frustration and empathy are evident as he speaks of how traders, often women, are subjected to physical threats in a bid to extract illegal higher rents. Veiled threats are extended to female members of the extended family. “That came to my attention because I had a relative who was owning stalls, and there are eyewitnesses, to such threats” he says. Gnanakone’s personal involvement is a testament to how these injustices affect even those in his immediate circle, but what is perhaps even more telling is his sense of helplessness in the face of such deeply rooted corrupt practices. Written complaints and appeals have fallen on deaf ears, with very senior officials within the local government administration. Detailed letters of appeal finally has been handed over to the President with official copies to the government and some JVP MP’s in the district on 31st January, when the President visited valvettithurai for an election campaign.
He continues, detailing how his attempts to raise the issue through proper channels have been met with indifference and resistance. “I went to the district secretary of the Pradeshya Sabha, local government chief secretary, and now the children have written to the president himself with an official copy to the governor,” Gnanakone says, listing the numerous avenues he has pursued in order to bring attention to the suffering of the traders. Despite all of this, the situation remains unchanged. “I have requested an appointment with the governor to personally express the pain and suffering of 50 traders, and their families” he continues, noting how his efforts have not yielded results. “That means about 200 people are affected directly, and their employees,” Gnanakone adds, painting a picture of how far-reaching the consequences of this exploitation are. The problem extends far beyond the immediate victims of the corruption—families, employees, and whole communities are being impacted.
He brings attention to the deep social cost of this exploitation, saying, “Everybody has family and they have to survive and send their children to school, universities, and the traders are scared to go to the police station and complain, saying that the police will be harassing and intimidating them too” Gnanakone’s words underline the climate of fear and mistrust that permeates the region. The victims of corruption and abuse know that seeking justice is a dangerous futile pursuit. The police, instead of being a source of protection, are seen as agents of further intimidation. This cycle of fear and inaction perpetuates the status quo and leaves the Tamil people trapped in a system of exploitation. The Hotel and IT industry also seem to be in trouble, guilty of exploitation. Most of the well to do Tamils and the diaspora are focussed on making money for themselves or ignore the issues.
“I went to the police station myself, but the police in the north and east are not going to help,” he says, acknowledging the deep-rooted corruption that also plagues law enforcement. Gnanakone describes the failure of authorities to protect the vulnerable, and voiceless. The consequences of this failure are severe. As a result, the Tamil community is left to fend for itself, unable to rely on the state for justice or protection. “We are suffering in a country that claims to be a democracy, where our rights and our children’s future are denied,” Gnanakone asserts. This deep sense of injustice is not just about individual grievances but about the systematic denial of basic rights for an entire community.
He also expresses his growing disillusionment with the government’s lack of progress. “During this visit, the President said that he is going to declare a public holiday somewhere in October where people from all communities can come and celebrate. We don’t want that,” Gnanakone says dismissively. His frustration with hollow gestures, like public holidays meant to symbolise reconciliation, is clear. He believes that such measures are meaningless in the face of real, pressing issues that require urgent attention. “We have enough Sinhalese… That’s not my question. It sounds lovable for me as well,” Gnanakone adds sarcastically, highlighting the emptiness of gestures that fail to address the structural problems facing the Tamil people.
For Gnanakone, true reconciliation can only come through tangible action, not through symbolic measures. “You do the right thing starting with the budget. You do the right thing starting with the police station. Employ northern officers and not constables including ladies at the Wellawatte and Kotahena police station. Insisting that reforms must begin with fundamental changes in how the state operates, particularly in the areas of budgeting and employment. “Don’t give us this BS about reconciliation, hallelujahs and kumbaya story. We don’t want… These are all gamayanta magic. Go and do it in the gamayanta country,” he says bluntly, rejecting symbolic displays in favour of real change.
He insists on demilitarization in the region, saying, “Demilitarize the northern and eastern provinces. Keep the military in nearby Polonnaruwa, Anuradhapura, Madawachchiya, or Puttalam.” The presence of the military in Tamil-majority areas, according to Gnanakone, has not only failed to address security concerns but has also exacerbated the distrust between the state and the Tamil people. He believes that demilitarization is key to enabling a peaceful, stable society where people can rebuild their lives without fear of military oppression.
In his view, the solution to the region’s problems lies not in relying on international aid or foreign projects but in harnessing the resources that Sri Lanka already possesses. “You want to send our wind, air, solar energy to India? Renewable energy,” Gnanakone says, expressing his opposition to the idea of exporting Sri Lanka’s renewable energy while the country itself struggles with energy shortages. He insists that the country must focus on becoming self-sufficient before it considers selling its resources abroad. “Put a ban on it until we are totally self-sufficient, totally affordable to our own people,” he adds.
The economic situation is dire, and Gnanakone is concerned about the country’s future. “If we survive 5 years, it will be worse off than what it is. We have no dollars. We are importing vehicles,” he warns. For Gnanakone, the looming economic crisis is inescapable if Sri Lanka does not take immediate action to secure its own resources and reduce its dependence on imports. The path forward is not through borrowing or selling off resources but through sustainable economic development rooted in local production and self-sufficiency.
Without substantial, meaningful changes, he fears that the Tamil community will continue to suffer under a system that has long ignored their needs. His critique is not just about pointing out problems but about calling for a shift in priorities. Only by addressing the deep-rooted issues of corruption, exploitation, and marginalization can Sri Lanka begin to heal and offer a better future for all its people.
Concluded
