When Harini Amarasuriya first entered Sri Lankan politics, she was hailed as a different kind of politician — a feminist academic, a human rights advocate, and a rare progressive voice willing to challenge entrenched power. Her early writings spoke about systemic discrimination, the “implicit exclusions and violence” that underpin the Sri Lankan state, and the need to confront Sinhala-Buddhist nationalism head-on.

Sri Lankan president Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s call at the United Nations for a ceasefire in Gaza drips with hypocrisy. The very man who stood on platforms railing against peace for Tamils now speaks the language of international humanitarianism. For Tamils on this island, his words are hollow and an insult.

Sri Lanka’s Deputy Defence Minister Aruna Jayasekara wants you to believe that the genocide against Tamils consisted of just “unfortunate incidents.” A few massacres here, a mass grave there. Mere accidents, really. The kind of thing that just happens when your military shells hospitals, rapes civilians, and executes prisoners.

As Israel faces global outrage for imposing its siege on Gaza by cutting off food, water, and supplies to 2.3 million Palestinians, observers of Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict hear chilling echoes. 

The genocide unfolding in Gaza today has shocked the world, but it should not come as a surprise. It follows a now-familiar playbook.

Last month in Brampton, Canada, hundreds gathered as a new Tamil genocide monument was officially unveiled. It was an act of remembrance that resonated not only with the Tamil diaspora but with justice seekers across the world.

From Madras Cafe (2013) to The Family Man 2 (2021) and now Jaat (2024), a consistent pattern has emerged — one that rewrites history, erases Tamil suffering and maligning resistance to oppression.

In 2024, Harini Amarasuriya – then an opposition parliamentarian – lauded the Tamil mothers of the disappeared.

As Duterte has learned, the law moves slowly - until it doesn’t. Could the Rajapaksas be next?