Excerpts come from
A Fleeting Moment in My Country by human rights worker N. Malathy, who spent 4 years on the ground recording various aspects of life under the LTTE in 2006-2010. She conducted her work with knowledge of fluent Tamil and access to high-level representatives of all major institutions, groups, and governments who were relevant at the time.
Children
My very first visit to Vanni in December, though short, was memorable. On this visit I befriended Janani in the forests of Vallipunam, where the Senchoolai children's home was set up. The location was chosen in order to be as far away from the battle lines of the pre-2002 ceasefire era as possible. I ended up there on the pretext of teaching music on the recorder. Anyone who knows anything about LTTE would have at least heard about the LTTE-run Senchoolai children's home for orphaned girls. This institution was formally opened in 1991 in Jaffna for the increasing number of children orphaned by the civil war.
...
I met very young girls as well as older girls. I heard their life stories, the great tragedies they were, in the surrounding Vallipunam jungle. Their stories, from a world very different to mine, sounded even more distant when heard in that surrounding. There was one very smart four-year-old who was rescued from among the ashes of a cemetery, and thus was named Sampavi, deriving from the Tamil word for ashes. There were several older girls who, as very young children, had witnessed the killing of their parents by the Lankan Military in their own home. Some had witnessed large scale massacres. Many of these girls who witnessed gruesome massacres were from the eastern areas, where massacres of civilians were very common in the 1980s, unnoticed by the outside. Many of the girls had brothers in Senchoolai's brother institution, Arivuchchoolai.
...
Unlike all other children's homes in Vanni, Senchoolai for girls and Arivuchchoolai for boys were funded directly by LTTE and were staffed by many LTTE members. In the case of Senchoolai, it was female members under Janani's leadership. Only a few LTTE members holding positions of high responsibility in these two institutions were permanently attached to them. Other members might have been assigned to these two institutions for period of time, and later moved out. All LTTE members, not just those serving in these two institutions, were encouraged to develop a special, caring relationship toward these two children's home. Most LTTE members did have a special place in their heart for these two institutions that was different from the way they related to other children's homes.
(pp. 40-42)
In the heyday of child soldier releases, getting funding for child soldiers was such a lucrative business for international NGOs, that they all wanted a part of it. The Action Plan took off with much media hype, but the implementation was frustrating to the released child soldiers and their families. These young people had become used to the life with LTTE that offered good food, occupation, discipline, and camaraderie. The rehabilitation program put in place by the international NGOs failed to rehabilitate the released children back into the civilian society. The LTTE said most of the released child soldiers were returning back to them, causing them a big headache. The LTTE accused the international NGOs of wasting the huge amounts of funds obtained for this rehabilitation and it unofficially withdrew from the Action Plan. Indeed a study commissioned by UNICEF in 2007 about this Action Plan found implementation problems due to the lack of coordination among the international NGO implementation partners.
(p. 62)
This meeting, intended as a launching pad for the Child Protection Authority (CPA), did not go anywhere. I, however, for the first time heard directly from Thamilselvan about the seriousness with which the LTTE intended to implement the minimum age policy of seventeen. I was even more confounded as to why it was so difficult to implement this policy.
It was after I left NESoHR and started working at Peace Secretariat that I had the opportunity to hear directly from many LTTE members. Things now started to become clearer to me. I noticed the noncommittal stance of some members towards the minimum age and the take-it-easy approach of some others towards this issue. The whole concept seemed alien and meaningless to LTTE members, and I was able to see that this derived from an institutional culture with two decades of history. It was a culture that predated the 2001 Optional Protocol on Children in Armed Conflict, a culture born of decades of actual experience of war. It was only in this 2001 Protocol that the age limit was set at eighteen for the first time, and that, too, only for non-state armed actors; states were permitted to recruit those under 18. This is a major point that has been missed in the media hype.
(pp. 92-93)
Once Pulitheevan asked me to take on the role of Director of [the Child Protection Authority], I knew that I was not going to lie back and accept the LTTE's softly-softly approach on the issue of child soldiers. I suspect the LTTE fraternity knew it too. In this role I worked with LTTE's liaison office, which was physically located adjacent to the Peace Secretariat, for liaising with international agencies. For more than one year, I had weekly meetings with UNICEF to discuss progress.
I had disagreements with both sides, the LTTE and UNICEF, and to some occasions I broke down and cried. Once it was because of the "mandate mentality" of UNICEF that displayed insensitivity to the plight of some children, mainly the girls. Once it was because of an LTTE action that ignored my "authority" in this area. For one year, all of 2007, this was my primary goal, ensuring that the LTTE did not fall back into the old softly-softly approach. It consumed me. I saw a clear demonstration of the non-nonsense approach of LTTE when I heard of middle-level LTTE leaders given punishment for recruiting children. It was mainly kitchen-duty punishment, which was a common form of mild punishment given to members. But when it was given to a leader, it was viewed as serious punishment and talked about. A senior female LTTE told me that when those under her recruited someone even a month younger than the specified age, her stomach churned in fear of punishment.
...
We came across several names of extremely young children from Batticaloa and Amaparai in the UNICEF list of LTTE child soldiers. We eventually traced these children in Senchoolai and Arivuchchoolai children's home. LTTE had taken these children, who were not receiving adequate care, into the branch of Senchoolai that was started in Batticaloa following the 2004 tsunami. When the LTTE withdrew from Batticaloa, these children were shifted to the Vanni Senchoolai and Arivuchchoolai. UNICEF refused to remove their names from the list, insisting that they would do so only after they were reunited with their families. But neither UNICEF nor ICRC were able to complete that task. In some cases they could not trace the families who had been displaced or gone missing following the tsunami. Even in cases where the families were traced, the Lankan government refused permission to take the children from Vanni to the eastern districts. Thus it remianed that even at this time, and despite the latest LTTE efforts, the youngest child in the LTTE was only seven years old. In fact, even in late 2007, there were international media reports, quoting UNICEF, that the youngest person in the LTTE was only seven years old. When I confronted the head of UNICEF Sri Lanka at that time about this report, the comment was that UNICEF could not do anything about it because it still was a "fact". The media kept reporting this "fact", a sexy issue, and UNICEF "could do nothing" about it, though they were fully aware of the background to the "seven-year-old LTTE member".
There were many more instances of misreporting by the media that convinced me of the unhealthy and biased media attraction to this issue, which was acknowledged privately to me by more than one UNICEF official. Some cases will illustrate my point. A nine-year-old girl with a mild intellectual handicap, who was abused at home, began behaving erratically at school. One day she was found hanging around in her class room late at night to avoid going home. An LTTE member eventually removed her from school and put her in the care of a children's home. Someone, probably a family member, reported this UNICEF. This child remained in the children's home even in early 2009 because she did not have a safe home to go to. Yet, she remained as a child soldier entry in the UNICEF database though UNICEF eventually removed her from their database.
(pp. 93-95)
Caste
It was interesting to observe that anti-castism was never discussed in the media. It seems this had already been dealt with and progress had been made. Harping on it was considered a step backwards rather than progressive; especially when some of the senior LTTE leaders, as well as the juniors, were from all types of castes. Love marriages, as opposed to arranged marriages, were more common within the LTTE compared to the rest of the Tamil community. Castism, though not entirely eradicated, seemed to be on the way out in Vanni.
One incident I experienced drove this point home to me very clearly. I did not have my own transport in Vanni except for a brief period after I learned how to ride a scooter. I quickly gave up the scooter because I found it difficult to deal with the roads and traffic in Vanni. Thus most of my transport was provided by the LTTE Peace Secretariat vehicle. I thus came to know the drivers well. They were all civilians of well above average intelligence, and came from families that were strong supporters of the LTTE. I found talking to them to be very educative, and we would chat a lot during our rides about many things concerning Vanni. It never dawned on me to wonder what castes they came from, and we always chatted as social equals. During early 2005, when the A9 route remained opened, I made several trips to Jaffna and I stayed with a family friend. The incident occurred when the LTTE Peace Secretariat vehicle was to pick me up from Jaffna to return to Vanni. The driver and the vehicle arrived at my friend's house, and there was a short delay before I was ready to get into the car. I asked the driver to come into the house and wait while I got ready. He refused and his mannerism was starkly different to his usual mannerism. He conveyed to me through his body language that the people in that home would not want to welcome him into their house if they knew about his caste. It was the typical refusal of a person aware of his lowly caste and the inappropriateness of his associating as an equal with members of the higher caste. It then dawned on me that he was forced to be caste conscious in Jaffna, but did not have to be in the circles he moved in, in Vanni.
(p. 79)
Women
The majority of the female members within LTTE reported directly to female leaders. This hierarchy was intercepted somewhere up the chain by a male leader. In the case of military divisions, this interception by a male leader would only be at the very top, Pirapaaharan himself. Within the political division of LTTE, there was a separate women's section with a female leader. All female members within the political division of the LTTE eventually reported to this female leader up the hierarchy. She in turn reported to the leader of the political division, invariably a male, who in turn reported to the LTTE leader, Pirapaaharan.
However, there existed another parallel group of about twenty female leaders from all divisions. This group met Pirapaaharan regularly to discuss issues relating to women. Many male leaders viewed this special access that women leaders had as a privilege. Many senior male leaders of similar ranking did not have this kind of access. Pulitheevan often expressed frustration that the women leaders failed to exploit the special privilege they had in order to further women's rights within the movement. I, too, had requested, through women leaders in the political division who were part of the group that regularly met Pirapaaharan, that some issues related to women be raised and resolved. I observed some reluctance on the part of these women leaders to be assertive.
In many institutions, female LTTE members often had to work under the leadership of a male LTTE leader; this occurred more frequently in non-military divisions like the political division. These female members working under male leaders ended up having two leaders to whom they had to report. An unwritten understanding was that in all work-related matters they took orders from their male leader, whereas all other matters, such as discipline etc., were dealt with by their female leader. This issue of two leaderships remained contentious and was not fully resolved. It must also be mentioned that LTTE male members also sometimes reported to female leaders, and this was seen as very normal.
(pp. 109-110)
There was an ongoing debate in Vanni on the female civilian attire. On several occasions, I had been part of this debate. Trivial as it may have been, this debate represented in a microcosm the forces acting for and against a more liberated female culture in Vanni.
A visually exhilarating sign of women's liberation in Vanni was the sight of confident-looking LTTE women in their non-military LTTE attired of black pants, light colored loosely fitting shirt with a belt worn over it. A similarly smart uniform was also worn by LTTE police women. Many outside observers had been impressed by the sight of these women in smart-looking and relatively liberating attire in this part of the world. Yet, visually, the most obvious sign of oppressive habits among civilian women in Vanni was also the practice of wearing the saree by even those employed in LTTE civilian institutions. Thousands of civilian women worked in such institutions, and they were all compelled to wear the saree in a uniform style determined by that LTTE institution. The contrast was striking for anyone who cared to observe it. It was shocking to see the saree being made compulsory for civilian women working in LTTE institutions, when LTTE women wore trousers and shirts as their uniform. Many young women have told me that they resisted applying for jobs in LTTE institutions because of the compulsion to wear the saree. Almost all women resisted this practice. LTTE women were vocal about their resistance and they were never subjected to it. Civilian women on the other hand were subjected to this rule. The saree rule was invariably made and enforced by senior male LTTE leaders within various LTTE institutions.
There was another important aspect to this microcosmic view of using the uniform rule for civilian women to depict the status of female liberation under the LTTE. There is one story that senior female LTTE members repeated about how women first joined the movement as arms-carrying members. The story goes like this. It was vehemently resisted by almost all the senior LTTE male members. LTTE leader Pirapaaharan nevertheless implemented this, dismissing all objections. The typical and now well-known female non-military LTTE attire of trouser and shirt was also vehemently resisted by the senior male LTTE members who said it would not be accepted by the community at large. Pirappaaharan dismissed this objection too, and he was proved right.
These different tensions acting on the issue of female attire accurately captured the status of women's issues in general in Vanni. LTTE women and a large section of the civilian women had a heightned awareness; the LTTE leader, Pirapaaharan, appeared to have understood some of the basic issues, but the other senior LTTE male leaders were lagging behind. Pirapaaharan was reputed to have said that his senior male leaders carried out all the tasks he assigned to them well beyond his expectations, but when it came to issues of women's rights, they were failing abysmally. This was not to say that there were no other senior male LTTE members who understood the women's rights issues. Indeed, I, too, came to know of some who did.
In 2008, when Ilanko took over the police department from Nadeesan after the demise of Thamilselvan, to my astonishment he initiated many pro-women programs within the police force. He organized training for all the female police officers to deal with women-related issues. Bearing in mind that the majority of the female police officers were young women with only limited training in the police force, this targeted training of women related-issues was a new area of knowledge for these young women. Unfortunately, the program never had a chance to prove its worth due to the multiple displacements starting from 2008 till the end war. I had the opportunity to have close interactions with Ilanko in regard to this project to train female police officers. His understanding of the issues and his one hundred percent pro-woman stance was so refreshing and heartwarming. He told me that he had produced awareness-raising dramas in the past on women's issues. He expressed frustration that the LTTE women in Vanni were not more pro-active in this area. Ilanko's fate after the war remains unknown. It is suspected that he was also among the hundreds who were either killed or made to disappear following capture by the Lankan Military as they walked out of the war zone during the end the war in 2009.
(pp. 111-112)
UPDATE 2013-08-24
An undercurrent has swelled in India, with reverberations felt across all of South Asia, when news broke 8 months ago of a female medical student who was raped and killed in December 2012. Many people took to the streets all over the country to protest, and the Indian government's response only fueled more anger. News stories began to break of similar incidents happening all over Delhi and all over the country. Granted, Western concern over South Asia's cultural degradation of women should be tempered by the fact that safety of females and gender inequity are issues partially tied to wealth and equity, which Western colonialism has and still creates. The fact still remains that women across the board are significantly more unsafe in India than even a place like America. Even foreigners are not safe in North India, as a Swiss tourist was raped in 2013. And if you think this is a recent phenomenon and/or just Western media hype, you are wrong: a medical student was raped in New Delhi in 2002 in broad daylight at a historical monument on a road with heavy traffic, and a Swiss diplomat was raped in 2003. What more conclusively proves that the status of women in South Asia is still largely attributable to culture is that not every culture in South Asia treated women this way. In particular, LTTE-administered Tamil Eelam, while it existed, appears to have been a unique oasis in this regard, too, as the following additional excerpts attest:
Women - cont'd
I was able to see at close quarters that the peace talks that unfolded during this period did not have genuine female representation on either side. At the same time, both sides made it a point to include token gestures towards female representation. The one exception to this was LTTE Human Rights spokesperson, Selvi, but her role was limited to being a spokesperson only.
I also observed female members in their relationships with each other, with male members, and with the society at large, and the views they held on women both in the movement and in the wider community, etc. I also learned more about the organizations that specifically devoted their time to women's issues. Various aspects of women's issues kept coming up in different contexts--in private conversations, in the work I did, and in the problems I had to deal with in respect to female employees and members. Initially I was disappointed. I arrived in Vanni hoping for a more liberated enlightened womenfolk, both members and civilians, but failed to find it. Gradually I realized that my disappointment was the result of looking for signs of women's liberation through the glasses of Western feminist ideologies.
Though I did not have the statistics, just observing the number of women on the streets during peak hours dressed for work, it was obvious that a greater percentage of women in Vanni went to work outside the home. There were also more women in civilian clothes riding motorbikes on Vanni roads compared to the rest of the island. Women, both LTTE members as well as civilians, occupied the public space in large numbers. They were very visible on the roads in the LTTE institutions. This gave Vanni a uniquely pro-woman character, which was absent elsewhere on the island.
In Vanni there were several institutions under the women's section of the political division of LTTE working to improve the women's condition. Two notable notable ones were the Women's Research Centre (CWR) and the Centre for Women's Development and Rehabilitation (CWDR). CWR published a magazine called Nattru (Seedling) which carried some good articles. Its circulation was limited, and the institutions itself did not have a large public presence. CWDR on the other hand, due to the growing need for assistance for destitute women, had a larger presence and was in fact a rather large institution.
The LTTE police force and its associated courts, made up mostly of civilians, was a mixed-gender institution that was well represented by females. The police force, as well as the lawyers and the judges, had nearly 50 percent female members. This was quite an achievement. Even the laws enacted by the LTTE to be implemented by its courts had a gender equality that was absent in the Lankan laws. Lankan laws had remnants of older customary laws of the land. Indeed LTTE laws had some unique features that went overboard to protect women who may have been cheated by men with the promise of marriage. During my stay, I heard LTTE women arguing against this special provision in the law for females, saying women did not need special protection against being cheated by men. I viewed it as a sign of an already existing sense of empowerment of the women to assert that they did not need gender specific laws to protect them, and the law should be enacted and applied equally to both genders.
LTTE women, women employed by the LTTE institutions, and self employed women were all interconnected through the many LTTE institutions, resulting in a unique female culture. These women openly and routinely discussed domestic violence and other problems faced by women. They were all on the lookout for women who needed a helping hand. Several LTTE institutions including health, welfare, banking-development, police, law, and the media support this female culture by providing supporting services. These institutions all had more than 50 percent female representation. Some of them were run solely by women, both LTTE and civilian, and for civilian women. Women needing help were directed to the appropriate institutions, which were all focused on giving a helping hand to women. This was the best feature of this female culture--the elimination of destitution through universal women's action. It was a unique kind of feminism, created by connecting the majority of women living all over Vanni, from all walks of life, for public action regarding women and children in need of help.
"Why did I join?"
In my involvement with women's groups in Vanni, I met a category of civilian women whose family support structers were broken mainly due to the war. It was easy to think that the young among them would be prime targets for recruitment by the LTTE. Though this was partly true, I found that the reasons for women to join the LTTE were more varied. I actually asked a few dozen female members of varying age and length of time with the LTTE for their reasons for joining. It was an interesting mix that fell into eight broad categories.
To punish the Lankan Military for killing someone they loved: Girls joined because a close family member had been affected. Prior to 2002, an unknown number of civilians, well in excess of 40,000, had been killed by the Lankan Military and Sinhala thugs during the five decades of conflict. There was no shortage of girls whose family members had been directly affected by the killings and disappearances. Girls cited this as the most common reason for joining. They all expressed an urge to punish the military for what it had done to their families.
To avoid falling victim to sexual violence by the enemy military: During the 80s and 90s rape by the military, both Lankan and Indian, was very prevalent. Also, with numerous military camps set near schools, school girls faced regular sexual harassment by the military. Often the military would insist on body checking the girls before letting them inside. Many girls reported male military members suspiciously touching their sanitary pads during the body checks. Girls joined LTTE, outraged by this violence against other girls. Joining the movement made them feel empowered rather than a potential victim. At the risk of stating the obvious, it must be said that the pull to join LTTE was especially strong because girls felt secure in the LTTE movement, within which sexual harassment and rape was totally absent.
Displacement and lack of regular schooling: As the war progressed over a period of two decades people displaced multiple times losing their homes and possessions each time they displaced. Sometimes these displacements would be anticipated and organized. Often during military attacks people displaced many times in chaotic conditions often living under trees while on the move. They would eventually end up in crowded camps for the displaced, mostly in public buildings like schools. They would continue to live in these crowded camps for several months until they could set up a rudimentary home somewhere in the displaced location. Such conditions took away the normal life for the young girls. Continuous bombing and shelling also disrupted the schools. These factors created a fertile environment for a young girl to join the LTTE. Joining the movement gave purpose and order to their life.
Senior female LTTE members as role models: In Tamil society, young girls did not move freely and independently in the community. Their dress code was also fairly strict. Most girls would not be allowed to wear trousers. Seeing female LTTE members, self-confident and well-dressed in smart trousers, brought out a desire in civilian girls to be like them. LTTE members in general moved freely within the community. They visited them, had meals with them, and helped them. This brought the female members into close contact with the civilian girls, creating in them a desire to follow suit.
Extreme poverty (domestic duty, no school): As a result of: death of bread winners in the family, multiple displacements, and the economic blockade by the Lankan government, families reached extreme levels of poverty. In the families most affected by poverty, the girl child's education was the first casualty. She was often expected to stay home and take on the duties of the mother and let the mother go out to earn money as a daily wage laborer. Girls rebelled against this and joined the LTTE.
LTTE awareness campaign: The LTTE conducted extensive political education campaigns in the community, and this had an effect on both the boys and the girls, moving them to join the movement.
Rebellion against the traditional culture: Tamil society, like many traditional societies, had arranged marriages, and girls, even if they desired to, could not escape it. Dowry was also a humiliating practice for many girls. If not for the lTTE, these girls would have had no plausible channel to rebel against the restrictive traditions of their society. Joining the LTTE provided that channel. The LTTE was an attractive option for these girls because of the LTTE policies promoting women's rights and banishing dowries.
Abuse of one form or other in the family: There were several cases of girls joining the LTTE to escape sexual abuse at home. In Tamil society, and indeed in the entire of South Asia, sensitive handling of this issue had not been developed nationally. It remained unspoken. By joining the LTTE, these victims were able to escape the abuse without have to face exposing the culprit.
Female membership structure
The involvement of women in the armed struggle was present from the beginning, when they served mainly as carers, providing meals, and caring for the wounded. Then the concept of Suthanthira Paravaikal (freedom birds) was introduced in the 1980s. A women's organization and publication carrying this name were launched. Once women started to join the LTTE as arms-carrying members, this organization died a natural death. But the women's section of the LTTE political division continued the publication of Suthanthira Paravaikal until the end, but with much reduced vigor.
Between male and female members a degree of separation was maintained within the LTTE. They did come together for executing specific tasks, both in civilian and military spheres. Two opposing views on whether this separation assisted or hindered women's development prevailed in Vanni. On the one hand was the view that it permitted freer development of women, which was similar to the theory that girls-only schools are good for girls. The implementation of discipline was also seen as better when it was carried out in segregated spaces. On the other hand was the view that women lost out on exposure to male-dominated knowledge and skills because of too much separation. I believe that in Vanni the tension between these two views was being gradually resolved as men and women came together more and more to do tasks in many spheres.
(pp. 105-109)
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