Death of the Tiger - Ilankai Tamil Sangam

BBC reporter that he should hang ifhe was found guilty. With Fonseka inprison, his wife carried on a campaignin his name for a subsequent parliamentaryelection, which he won, eventhough his loyalists were harassed and,in some cases, abducted by plainclothesthugs.In Colombo, a Sinhalese humanrightslawyer said, “The Fonseka caseshows people that the Rajapaksas willgo after anyone seen as a threat. Theydefeated the L.T.T.E. and have decimatedtheir main political opposition,and now they are going after thosewho are critical of them.” The governmenthas acted unsparingly againstjournalists, human-rights activists,civic leaders, and others. In the mostnotorious case, in January, 2009, theprominent newspaper editor LasanthaWickrematunge was attacked as hedrove to work in Colombo’s city center;motorcycle-riding assailants forcedhis car to stop and fatally shot himin front of dozens of onlookers. Atthe time of his murder, his newspaper,the Sunday Leader, was being suedfor defamation by Gotabaya Rajapaksaafter it implicated him in allegedcorruption.A few days later, the newspaper ranan editorial titled “And Then TheyCame for Me,” which Wickrematungehad left behind in the event of hismurder. In it, he excoriated MahindaRajapaksa, whom he described as anold friend who had become powerhungryand corrupt, for underminingSri Lanka’s democracy through stateterror. “Murder has become the primarytool whereby the state seeks tocontrol the organs of liberty,” he wrote.“When finally I am killed, it will bethe government that kills me.” AddressingRajapaksa, he predicted, “Inthe wake of my death I know youwill make all the usual sanctimoniousnoises and call upon the police to holda swift and thorough inquiry. But likeall the inquiries you have ordered inthe past, nothing will come of thisone, too.”In an interview afterward with Time,President Rajapaksa was asked aboutWickrematunge. “He was a good friendof mine. He had informed somebody toinform me” that he was in danger, hesaid. “But unfortunately, I didn’t getthat message. I would have told him togo to the nearest police station. No oneknows what happened.”Gotabaya Rajapaksa received JamesClad and me in a sitting room ofhis house, a British-era villa in a largegarden compound in Colombo. Theroom was impersonally furnished withfifties-style blue settees and abstractgeometric paintings, all governmentissue.The Defense Minister was casuallyattired in a T-shirt, sweatpants,and flip-flops. He coughed in a compulsiveway, as if he had a nervous tic.It was a little before the dinner hour, sohe called for an orderly to bring in theliquor trolley. He didn’t drink, he said,and didn’t know what he had in thehouse. He knew only that he had abottle of “Fonseka.” Would we like adrink of that? He grinned. On the trolleywas a bottle of Fonseca Bin No. 27,a brand of port. He laughed delightedlyat his joke. He had a high-pitchedgiggle, which broke out at odd momentsthroughout the evening.That was the day that Sri Lanka’s papershad carried the news that a militarycourt had convicted Fonseka of involvementin politics while in service andstripped him of his rank and militaryhonors. (He was later sentenced to thirtymonths in prison.) I suggested that thetiming of Fonseka’s arrest—only hoursafter he had accused Gotabaya of warcrimes—made it look like a personalvendetta. Gotabaya coughed and giggledand waved his hands dismissively. “No,no. He made those same accusationsduring the campaign, many times. Icould have arrested him then if it wasabout that. In fact, I should have arrestedhim earlier.”Gotabaya evinced a grudging admirationfor Prabhakaran, for his “ruthlessdedication to his cause,” but acknowledgedthat he had felt “very happy” whenhe was told of his death. As for Sri Lanka’snational reconciliation, Gotabayasaid that he believed his brother’s proposals,to win the peace through economicdevelopment, showed the rightway forward. The average Tamil, likethe average Sinhalese, he said, justwanted to get on with his life. Referringto the Tamils’ long-standing wish forsecession, he said, “All that businessabout separation is something only politicianscare about.” When I asked aboutthe suspicions that the government wasattempting to change the demographicsof the Tamil lands by swamping themwith Sinhalese soldiers, he said, with alaugh, “We should do that, but it’sdifficult.”Clad gently lobbied Gotabaya torenew the country’s relationship withthe International Committee of theRed Cross. In the last days of the war,the I.C.R.C. had been restricted to removingwounded civilians from Mullaittivuby sea, and ever since it had beengrounded at its headquarters in Colombo.In the final months of the war,the Army had repeatedly bombed theI.C.R.C.’s emergency hospital facilities,killing three employees and scores ofpatients. Gotabaya had blamed the Tigers.In a report prepared by the InternationalCrisis Group, “War Crimes inSri Lanka,” the hospital attacks featurestrongly in the case against Gotabaya.Gotabaya warily said that he waswilling to have the Red Cross stay on ifthe organization would agree to a newunderstanding of its activities on the island.“We must forget the past and lookto the future,” he said. Lowering hisvoice confidentially, he added, “Theproblem is the I.C.R.C.—some of theirpeople had been here for a long time,and became friendly with the L.T.T.E.”He suggested that the Red Cross andother international relief agencies werelong-time accomplices of the Tigers. InDecember, 2006, he had nearly been assassinatedby a Black Tiger driving arickshaw rigged with explosives; hepointed out that the bomber had beena Tamil employee of the relief organizationCARE. He said, “So I say to theI.C.R.C., ‘Bring new people and let’shave a fresh start.’ ”After dinner, Gotabaya led us outside.Across his lawn, by the garden’shigh security wall, was a huge, illuminatedoutdoor aquarium. Inside, severallarge, unmistakable shapes moved relentlesslyback and forth.54 THE NEW YORKER, JANUARY 17, 2011