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How activists who led movement against Lankan govt, are facing persecution

The Sri Lankan economy continues to be a mess

Power of silence: Balangoda Kassaba Thero, a Buddhist monk who was arrested during the Aragalaya protests.

The iconic Galle Face Green near the presidential secretariat in Colombo is eerily quiet. Even the usually crowded space around the statue of former president S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike is deserted. A year ago, it was the nerve-centre of the anti-government protests that rattled Sri Lanka. The historic Aragalaya (people’s struggle) was launched from here on March 1, 2022, which led to the ouster of president Gotabaya Rajapaksa.

I am still fighting the cases. Every time I step out of my house, my mother is scared. If I say I am going for a protest, she is even more scared.” ― Melanie Gunathilaka, climate activist
Wickremesinghe is someone who is preferred by the upper echelons of the society in Colombo. Apart from that, there is no big change. The protestors have gone back to look after their own lives. ― Chameera Dedduwage, digital media strategist
Aragalaya was a decisive political movement for the people of my generation and it completely politicised a certain section of society and told them that they could question the government. ― Swasthika Arulingam, lawyer

Sri Lanka is now largely peaceful. The country has been offered a bailout package by the International Monetary Fund. Luxury cars are back on the roads. Wedding parties and celebrations have returned to the European style buildings in Colombo. The beaches are full of foreign tourists. The long queues outside petrol stations and supermarkets and the unending power cuts are largely absent.

But while life is back to normal for rich Sri Lankans, the poor and the middle class continue to struggle. Prices of essentials still remain high, the Sri Lankan rupee continues to be volatile and the fuel and power crisis could return any moment. The growing inflation and price rise have made economic recovery difficult. “I used to make 10,000 rupees (6,000 Indian rupee) before the protests. With that I was able to feed my family and even save some money,” said Hasan Mohammed, an autorickshaw driver from Wellawatte, a Colombo neighbourhood. “Now what I get is not enough for buying fuel for my auto rickshaw. How do I provide for my family?”

The latest economic data is alarming. Nearly 40 lakh Sri Lankans face food insecurity. While it is certainly an improvement from the situation last year, certain communities suffer disproportionately, such as estate workers, daily wage earners and households that rely on social assistance. One in every five households is forced to skip meals. “Food insecurity covers several pillars like availability, accessibility, utilisation and stability. In Sri Lanka, food insecurity in the current context is largely related to accessibility,” said Tanya Jansz of the World Food Programme in Sri Lanka.

Unfortunately for the island nation, along with the economic crisis, it is also experiencing a socio-political churn. The young Sri Lankans who led the Aragalaya protests are targeted by the administration headed by President Ranil Wickremesinghe. Many of them have lost their jobs, some have been arrested and a few even lost their lives. Although Wickremesinghe came to power after president Gotabaya Rajapaksa and prime minister Mahinda Rajapaksa were forced to resign, his government relies on the support of the Sri Lanka Podujana Party (SLPP) led by the Rajapaksa clan. So, it was not surprising that one of the first actions Ranil took was to force the protesters out from Galle Face Green.

Melanie Gunathilaka

For Melanie Gunathilaka, a 36-year-old climate activist, the past year was nothing less than a harrowing ordeal. She was arrested in May for protesting outside parliament, but was soon released. She was picked up again in September, this time for being one of the faces of the Aragalaya movement. “I am still fighting the cases,” said Melanie, who was working as a climate activist with a private company in Colombo. Recently, when she was attending a protest with a friend, a policeman came and asked her friend to stay away from her. “This is the kind of intimidation we are facing. Every time I step out of my house, my mother is scared. If I say I am going for a protest, she is even more scared.”

After getting caught in the legal tangle, Melanie could not get her contract renewed. Now she is finding it difficult to find another job. Unemployment is a major concern in Sri Lanka even for the highly qualified. “Many doctors have relocated to other countries. Skilled workers are moving to the Middle East,” said Udahiruni Atapattu, research analyst at Advocata Institute, a Colombo-based think tank.

Chameera Dedduwage

Amila Jeewantha Peiris, a Catholic priest who was part of Aragalaya’s core group, said he, too, is constantly watched. Peiris, who works among the socially backward in the Central Province, said wherever he went for work, he was followed by the police. Three cases are registered against him. “This is intimidation,” he said. Peiris no longer wears his cassock when is outside the church. “They can identify me easily with the cassock and I might be attacked,” he said.

Marisa DeSilva, a human rights consultant and an avid supporter of the Aragalaya movement, said that despite the hardships faced by the activists, it helped many people realise the importance of civil rights. “This is the [most significant] non-violent, democratic protest that any South Asian country has seen in its history. And, we were able to bring about change,” she said.

But for W.P. Piyasena, a 56-year-old soldier who lost both legs while fighting the civil war against the Tamil Tigers, Aragalaya has brought nothing but misery. His son Kelum Mudannayake, who was students’ union president at the University of Kelaniya, is in a Colombo jail for the past six months. Piyasena travels at least thrice a week from his house in Galgamuwa in the North Western province to Colombo to arrange legal assistance for his son. “He tells me not to travel because of my physical problems. But there is no one else for him,” said Piyasena. “I am still serving the army. I never thought that working for my country would cost me something this big. My son has done nothing wrong.”

Amila Jeewantha Peiris (IN PIC), a Catholic priest who was part of Aragalaya’s core group, said he was constantly watched by the police.

There are two cases against him―damaging public property and rioting inside the university campus. “There was a clash between two student groups and as president of the students’ union, he mediated between them,” said Piyasena.

Many other student leaders, too, are facing similar legal troubles. Former Inter-University Students Federation leader Wasantha Mudalige, Inter-University Bhikkhu Federation convenor Galwewa Siridhamma Himi and activist Hashantha Jeewantha Gunathilake were detained under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), one of Sri Lanka’s most draconian laws. Mudalige now lives alone as he does not want the police to trouble his mother and siblings who were intimidated by the police. Mudalige, Gunathilake and Himi are accused of conspiring against the state. Apart from the PTA case, Mudalige has also been charged with trespassing into the president’s house during the protests. “We fought for the people’s rights. But the government calls us terrorists,” said Himi.

Balangoda Kassaba Thero, a 30-year-old Buddhist monk who was on a Satyagraha campaign during the Aragalaya protests, too, is facing charges. “I was fighting for people’s rights and they arrested me for that. Buddhism preaches peace. But they say even a monk is wrong, although our protests were peaceful,” said Kassaba, sipping a cup of coffee at a Colombo cafe. He said that even after Aragalaya, Sri Lankans did not have the freedom to express themselves. “To protest and question the government is our fundamental right. But we are being harassed for it,” he said.

Despite the setbacks, some observers say the movement made the younger generation aware of their political rights. “Aragalaya was a decisive political movement for the people of my generation and it completely politicised a certain section of society and told them that they could question the government,” said 36-year-old human rights lawyer Swasthika Arulingam. Swasthika, who was one of the organisers of the movement, is now part of a lawyers’ group which provides legal assistance to Aragalaya activists. “We look into who can go to the police station, who can appear in court, who will look into the documentation issues, who will file the fundamental rights cases and who will go before the human rights commission.”

Swasthika Arulingam

Nuwan S. Bopege is another attorney who fights for the activists. “Cases were registered against more than 5,000 people on 60 different charges,” said Bopege, who faced arrest last July. After getting out on bail, he filed a fundamental rights petition against deputy inspector general of police Deshabandhu Tennakoon. “I filed a case against him for his undemocratic acts against the protesters,” he said. The authorities were also unhappy as he chose to represent Gunathilake, Mudalige and Himi. “Last July, after Wickremesinghe took over as president, I was assaulted by unknown people,” said Bopege. The ordeal has been so traumatic for his family that his five-year-old daughter hides under the table whenever someone enters their house.

While the attorneys and professionals are able to fight for themselves, the poor, the less educated and the minorities are at a huge disadvantage. Rebecca David, a 41-year-old social media strategist, faces the double trouble of being a Tamil and a Christian. Some of her detractors say that she is being funded by the church while others point to her Tamil background. Since the Aragalaya movement made use of her professional skills, she is being targeted by the establishment. Her attempts to educate the people about their constitutional rights, too, have made her a lot of powerful enemies. David and her family now face surveillance constantly. “My social media activities are monitored. The CID came to my place to inquire about me. This is being done to intimidate my family,” she said.

Aragalaya changed the nature of political protests in Sri Lanka as it helped breach the divide between the Sinhala-majority south and the Tamil-dominated north. People in the south who never bothered to oppose the rulers did not hesitate to question the politicians this time about their broken promises. “During Aragalaya, everyone, including the ultra left and the far right and even those without any political ideology came together,” said Chameera Dedduwage, a digital media strategist who works for a leading advertising company in Colombo.

A year later, however, Dedduwage, and many others like him, are disillusioned about how things have unfolded after the protests. “Unfortunately, there is a lot of polarisation,” said Dedduwage. “The left thinks the entire protest was their monopoly. In that sense, people like me are marginalised by both sides―because we oppose the politicians and because we are not leftists.” Dedduwage’s friend Buddhi Prabodha Karunaratne, another prominent Aragalaya leader, got so disappointed that he allegedly took his life. Dedduwage said it was Karunaratne’s Facebook post that prompted a large group of protesters to march to Gotabaya’s private residence in Colombo. Karunaratne, who was undergoing treatment for depression, died from a medicine overdose.

Dedduwage said the only change that Aragalaya brought was to Sri Lanka’s political leadership. “Wickremesinghe is someone who is preferred by the upper echelons of the society in Colombo. Apart from that, there is no big change,” he said. “The protesters have gone back to look after their own lives.”

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