Sri Lankan soldiers carry the body of R Sampanthan earlier this month.
Rajavarothiam Sampanthan, a veteran figure of Tamil politics has passed away aged 91. He died whilst still in office, holding the post as the Member of Parliament for Trincomalee and a record as the oldest lawmaker on the island. Though his passing has drawn tributes from the West and politicians from across the Sinhala political spectrum, the reaction from Eelam Tamils in the North-East and in the diaspora has been much more muted. It reflects his tumultuous political life and legacy that he leaves behind.
His activism started when he joined the legendary S J V Chelvanayakam’s Federal Party (also known as the Ilankai Tamil Arasu Kachchi or ITAK) in the 1950’s. It was only in 1977, when through a wave of Tamil nationalism the ITAK-backed Tamil United Liberation Front (TULF) swept the North-East, that Sampanthan was first elected to Sri Lanka’s parliament. The overwhelming mandate he received was clear, under the just passed Vaddukoddai resolution. The party vowed to work towards an independent state of Tamil Eelam.
Unfortunately, the Sri Lankan state’s chauvinism did not allow that dream to come to fruition. Sampanthan joined other Tamil lawmakers in resigning from Parliament in 1983, protesting Sri Lanka’s 6th Amendment to the constitution, which effectively outlawed any mention of Tamil independence. Years of armed conflict and destruction followed, with tens of thousands killed.
In the decades after his resignation, Sampanthan was left in the political wilderness. He unsuccessfully stood in both 1989 and 1994 in Trincomalee, failing to win the seat. He briefly re-entered Parliament after the assassination of A Thangathurai in 1997, but failed to get elected once more in 2000, for years remaining an almost fringe figure in Tamil politics.
It was only in 2001 with the formation of the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) and the overt backing of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), after decades of rejection at the ballot box, Sampanthan finally won a seat. In this era, he was full throated in his support of the liberation movement, publicly praising LTTE leaders and attending events to raise the Tamil Eelam flag. The TNA coalition explicitly recognised the LTTE as sole representatives of the Tamil people and Sampanthan himself declared “the time has now come for all the Tamil political forces in the northeast to unite under one banner to give full support for the militants who are involved in the freedom struggle”.
Sampanthan raises the Tamil Eelam flag as the Tamil National Alliance opened its headquarters in Trincomalee, 2005.
At the time, the Tigers were at the peak of their military strength. However, after peace talks broke down, the expanded Sri Lankan armed forces launched a massive military offensive on the Tamil homeland. It brought about an onslaught that massacred more than 150,000 Tamils.
Though he initially protested the genocide, Sampanthan soon sensed the winds of change and began searching for his own political survival. It is with great shame that reports emerged of how the TNA leader - one of the most senior Tamil voices on the island - refused to answer desperate calls from the Vanni at the height of the massacres whilst nestled at his home in India. As the dust from Sri Lankan artillery fire settled over the beach in Mullivaikkal, it seemed Sampanthan had switched his political allegiances.
Sampanthan outside the United Nations office in Colombo, 2006.
In the aftermath of atrocities, the TNA steered away from explicitly pushing for international accountability, genocide recognition or demilitarisation, as so many Tamils in the homeland and around the world had demanded. Sampanthan and his party had now taken up the more comfortable position of seeking concessions from the state – the very same state responsible for the horrific violence unleashed on his people. As Tamil civil society activists in the North-East and diaspora were fervently lobbying for action on war crimes at the United Nations, the TNA leader instead told visiting British parliamentarians that his “main priority” was ensuring bicycles were delivered to the North-East. Sampanthan had gone from challenging Sinhala chauvinism to accommodating and even partnering with it.
The principled positions he once stood for had been seemingly abandoned. Sampanthan was firm in his conviction of working within the confines of the Sri Lankan state and now sought to appease Sinhala leaders. In 2010 for example, barely a year after the Mullivaikkal massacre and amidst widespread calls for a boycott, he drove his party to back army commander Sarath Fonseka over incumbent president Mahinda Rajapaksa at the presidential elections, despite both men having led the genocide. The backlash led to a major party split and the formation of the Tamil National People’s Front (TNPF). Rajapaksa, a man despised by the Tamil people for leading the massacres, would win those elections. But it did little to deter Sampanthan’s engagement. He was frequently seen shaking hands and smiling with Rajapaksa, who he himself accused of committing a genocide. Shortly after his death, Rajapaksa described Sampanthan as “an old friend and colleague”.
That congeniality he held with Sinhala leaders, including those accused of war crimes, would continue. For those in Colombo he presented a more pragmatic Tamil face, and one that could be held up to demonstrate a veneer of engagement with the island’s Tamils even if tangible progress remained lacking in reality. Sampanthan was all too happy to oblige.
His ascendency within Colombo’s political circles would come with his decision to back the Sirisena-led government, with repeated pledges that Tamil autonomy would finally be delivered. So eager was Sampanthan in his support for the newly elected government, that he even boldly went on stage and waved the lion flag - the same flag the military raised at its bases and on camps across the Tamil homeland. It was the most striking visual representation of his political crossover. Sampanthan had abandoned his Tamil Eelam flag for a Sri Lankan one. The image would haunt him for years to come.
Sampanthan and Ranil Wickremesinghe waving the Sri Lankan flag together at a rally in Jaffna, 2012.
Mahinda Rajapaksa shares a joke with Sampanthan, 2014.
The Sampanthan that emerged after the Mullivaikkal genocide, bore little resemblance to the man in the decades before him; one who was first elected on the Vaddukoddai resolution and pledged allegiance to the Tamil liberation movement. This change of heart brought with it many critics. Sampanthan faced frequent protests in the North-East, partly why he spent much of his time in Colombo. Though many still saw him as a veteran statesman, his politics faced harsh rebuke. Effigies were burnt and slogans regularly raised against him. The TNA that he led now relied on more grassroot politicians who continued to espouse Tamil nationalism and invoke past associations with the LTTE.
An effigy of Sampanthan at a protest in Jaffna in 2015.
That doublespeak however could not last long. Predictably, the Sri Lanka state remained as stubbornly chauvinistic as it had ever been. The Sirisena coalition would collapse, and, despite Sampanthan’s pandering, to this day the Tamil homeland remains under occupation, war criminals remain free, and the prospect of devolution remains remote.
Amidst years of broken pledges and failed placations, the gap between the TNA in Colombo and the Tamil people had been steadily widening, with Sampanthan’s legitimacy rapidly fading. The coalition formally disbanded last year and the leadership of his beloved ITAK party is currently being contested in court. Until his final days, however, the ailing leader’s strategy of appeasement had not changed. Perhaps it was a blind faith that the Sri Lankan state would eventually hand out crumbs of power sharing. More likely, for someone of Sampanthan’s stature who was enveloped within Colombo’s parochial politics, it was a desperate grasp at maintaining relevance.
In recent years, Sampanthan rarely ventured out in public, with his ill health limiting his appearances. He still held on to his post as Trincomalee MP, a decision that even his closest colleagues had repeatedly questioned for years. He passed away still holding that position, never having relinquished it. He leaves behind a legacy of missed opportunities.