Sri Lanka’s unfinished task 

By Milinda Moragoda

Sixteen years after the guns fell silent, Sri Lanka finds itself at another defining moment.

The military defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) in May 2009 ended one of the bloodiest conflicts in modern Asia. Nearly three decades of violence left tens of thousands dead, displaced communities across the island and scarred generations of Sri Lankans.

For many, the end of the war marked the return of peace. For others, it remains associated with profound grief and unresolved questions. Both realities exist. But sixteen years later, Sri Lanka must confront a larger question: will we continue to define ourselves by the conflicts of our past, or will we finally begin building the future we all deserve? 

The challenge before Sri Lanka today is no longer an armed insurgency. It is the fragmentation of society itself. 

The scars left by decades of conflict have not disappeared. Sri Lanka’s experience of violence has not been limited to the ethnic conflict alone; political violence, insurrections, extremism and social divisions have also left deep marks on our national consciousness. These wounds have entered our politics, our public discourse and, increasingly, our everyday relationships.

The divisions we face are not only between ethnic and religious communities. They exist within communities, between political groups, across social classes and even between generations. 

The LTTE was among the world’s most ruthless terrorist organisations. It pioneered suicide bombings, forcibly recruited children and systematically silenced dissent through violence. Its victims included political leaders, members of the security forces and countless innocent civilians from every community. 

Equally tragic was the destruction of moderate Tamil voices who believed that democratic politics — not terrorism — offered the path to justice. By eliminating alternative leadership within the Tamil community, the LTTE deepened the very tragedy it claimed to represent.

That history should never be forgotten. Attempts to romanticise the LTTE or portray it as a legitimate liberation movement ignore the suffering of every community affected by the conflict, including countless Tamil families.  

At the same time, acknowledging the brutality of terrorism does not mean ignoring the legitimate grievances that existed within the Tamil community. Questions of equality, political representation, language and opportunity required greater political courage and reform than successive governments were able or willing to provide. 

Those failures contributed to alienation and mistrust. But terrorism did not resolve those grievances. It prolonged suffering, destroyed democratic alternatives and delayed meaningful reconciliation by decades. 

The end of the war created an historic opportunity to build a more inclusive and confident Sri Lanka. Much of that work, however, remains unfinished. 

Today, our greatest challenge is the growing culture of anger and retribution.

The desire for accountability is understandable in a country that has experienced so much suffering. Justice is essential in any democracy. Those who abuse power or violate the law must be held responsible.

But justice and revenge are not the same.

Justice strengthens institutions. Revenge weakens them by turning politics into an endless cycle of retaliation. 

This danger extends beyond ethnic and religious questions. Political opponents are increasingly viewed not as fellow citizens with different opinions, but as enemies to be defeated. Social media has amplified outrage and suspicion. Economic hardship has intensified frustration and hopelessness. 

If Sri Lanka cannot consciously draw a line under the conflicts of the past and begin looking forward rather than constantly looking backward, we risk passing these divisions to another generation. 

Perhaps what Sri Lanka lacks today is not intelligence, talent or resources. It lacks enough people willing to rise above immediate interests and speak for the long-term national good.

We need statesmen and stateswomen. 

This responsibility belongs not only to politicians but also to civil society, business leaders, academics and religious leaders. Sri Lanka needs voices capable of looking beyond the next election, the next political contest or the next opportunity for personal advancement.

Leadership is ultimately about asking a larger question: what kind of country do we want future generations to inherit? 

In a democracy, the debate cannot simply be about whether one government is good and another is bad. Governments come and go. The deeper question concerns society itself and the aspirations of its people. 

What values do we wish to share? What kind of nation do we want to build? What common purpose can unite citizens despite differences of ethnicity, religion, class or political belief?

These questions have received far too little attention. Hatred cannot become an organising principle for national renewal. 

Nor can politics survive without ideals. A political system focused only on gaining power, distributing patronage and defeating opponents eventually loses its ability to inspire citizens. Democracy requires competition, but it also requires a vision beyond competition itself. 

Society also has a responsibility. Citizens cannot demand better politics while rewarding division and confrontation. Reconciliation is not only a task for governments. It must also be reflected in our homes, schools, universities, religious institutions, media and communities.

Sri Lanka remains blessed in many ways. We possess a strategic location, a rich civilisational heritage, remarkable natural beauty and resilient people. Yet one essential ingredient of national success has remained elusive: social solidarity. 

We have struggled to build a strong sense of shared purpose that transcends our differences.

Without trust, even the best economic policies will have limited impact. Without social cohesion, development itself becomes fragile. 

Perhaps the greatest casualty of the years since the war is hope. 

Across every community, many young Sri Lankans increasingly believe that their future lies elsewhere. They are leaving not only because of economic challenges, but because too many have lost confidence that their own country can overcome its divisions and fulfil its potential.

No nation can prosper while exporting its optimism. 

Sixteen years after the end of the war, Sri Lanka’s unfinished task is no longer military. It is moral, political and social.

It is to rebuild trust where suspicion has taken root. It is to replace resentment with confidence. 

It is to create a society where diversity is recognised as a strength rather than treated as a weakness. 

Nations are ultimately built not by victories over one another, but by the values their people choose to share. 

History should inform us, but it should never imprison us.

If Sri Lanka has the wisdom to choose reconciliation over retribution, common purpose over division and hope over anger, the next chapter of our national story can become greater than any that came before.

That is Sri Lanka’s unfinished task.

(Milinda Moragoda, Founder of the Pathfinder Foundation Can be Contacted via [email protected])

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect the official position of this publication.