*
The Will to Freedom,: An Inside View of Tamil Resistance
Adele Balasingham, (Fairmax Publishing Ltd., Mitcham, 2001),
380 pp.
From the backcover:
The
author of this book, Adele Balasingham is a sociologist, political
activist and writer who has lived and worked in India and Sri Lanka for
more than twenty years with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE),
the freedom movement that spearheads the Tamil independence struggle She
has also published works on the dowry system amongst the Jaffna society
and on the LTTE women fighters.
In this book, The Will to Freedom Adele Balasingham provides a
penetrating internal study of the armed resistance struggle by the Tamil
Tiger movement. Written in a semi-autobiographical historical style The
Will to Freedom graphfically surveys important events, episodes and
turning points in the last two decades of the evolutionary history of
the Tamil freedom struggle. This fascinating study also throws light on
the hitherto unknown characteristics of the leadership of LTTE.
Conveying the bloody imprints of those violent periods, the author
reveals the depth of the suffering as well as the burning spirit of
freedom of the Tamil people and the fighters The book will he of
interest to all those who want to study the inside story of the Tamil
resistance movement.
Book Note by Sachi Sri Kantha
- One of a kind of book; an autobiography of an Australian nurse
(born in 1950), who linked with the LTTE leader Pirabhakaran, via her
husband Anton Balasingham. It contains valuable information on the
origin, growth, struggles and successes of LTTE, covering the 1980s upto
1998. Adele Balasingham provides smart answers to the LTTE critics.
Thus, this book has a special value in countering the cryptic anti-LTTE
bias present in the books such as
The Broken Palmyra (by Rajan Hoole et al.),
Tigers of Sri Lanka
(by M.R.Narayan Swamy), and
Assignment
Colombo (by J.N.Dixit).
From Chapter 1 - On Meeting Balasingham
"...It all began when I married a Tamil man,
Anton Balasingham, from the island of Sri Lanka, in 1978. In that
union, I married the collective consciousness and history of a people: a
man who embodied the Tamil psyche with all its strengths and weaknesses.
greatness and failings. That history took me to live in the society and
culture of one of the world's oldest Eastern civilisations: in the land
of the ancient historical origins of his people, Tamil Nadu, the
Southern Dravidian state of India.
For many years too I lived in his birthplace, Jaffna, the cultural
capital of the Tamil people in tile Northeastern part of Sri Lanka,
otherwise known as Tamil Eelam. I became immersed in the trials and
tribulations, joys and celebrations of a people in the throes of a
struggle to survive against a sophisticated manifestation of genocide.
Subsequently, for the past twenty-three years of my life I have been
exposed to extraordinary and unique experiences. In the first place.
I am the only foreign person who has lived with shared and witnessed
the people's horrendous experience of' state oppression and attempted
genocide, and the complex domains of their
heroic, sustained and
astoundingly ingenious resistance against what would appear to be
insurmountable, will breaking odds. More than two decades of my life
with the Tamil people has been an honour also, for two reasons.
Firstly, to be witness to the growth and development of the
organisation spearheading the struggle for the freedom of a people - the
Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam - and to share in and witness the
phenomenal historical struggle and the incredible sacrifices made by the
organisation's cadres.
Secondly, and more importantly, this liberation movement. and the
people as a whole trusted me, respected me and revealed to an 'outsider'
their inner soul. That my experience with the Tamil people has been
profound was probably best conveyed by a Tamil lady friend, who, in
conversation under the coolness of the graceful limbs of a mango tree on
her farm in Visvamadu, Vanni, suddenly referred to me as `the white
Tamil'.
When I met Balasingham and fell in love with him more than two decades
ago, I could not even begin to imagine my life would unfold the way it
did. Undeniably the very act of marrying a man from a socio-cultural
environment, which is in virtual contradiction to my own, prescribed at
least a different `ordinary' marriage. So how did it come about that two
people from two different cultures could meet on a common ground of
marriage? It could not have been simply physical attraction: if that
were so the relationship would not have been so intense and intimate. So
what was it that united us and took me down such an extraordinary path
with him?
Although Balasingham remains, in essence, the man I married all those
years ago, time and circumstances have worked on him to make him the
thinker and personality he is today. A quarter of a century ago, the man
I married was what I would call a 'religious man'; a 'religious' man not
in the sense of adhering to institutionalised religions and observing
what he viewed as their primitive rituals and practices, but rather a
man concerned with righteousness, goodness and humanism.
Bala, thirty six years of age when we first met, had read widely on
Eastern philosophical thought, in particular Indian Vedanta philosophy,
and he had taken a special interest in the teachings of the Buddha.
Indecd, Buddhist philosophy fascinated him so much in his younger days
that he visitcd Buddhist scholars in Sri Lanka for exploratory
philosophical elucidations. He has also given talks on Buddhism in
public forums. As a serious student of Buddhist philosophy, he became
deeply disillusioned with the Sri Lankan brand of Buddhism, which,
according to him, has been polluted and perverted by racist and
chauvinist ideology. But it was his experience of personal tragedy which
evoked tremendous reflection, and brought him into confrontation with
himself and the philosophies he had so passionately pursued.
His concern for righteousness and goodness was literally put to the test
when his first wife became extremely ill with chronic renal failure,
ending with her requiring life sustaining haemodialysis. The emotional
and mental strain of observing and caring for his beautiful young wife
teetering on the brink of death by chronic disease invoked in Bala
profound philosophical introspection about the self and the human world.
The disintegration and transformation of the human form as a consequence
of serious physical illness. and, most importantly, the constant
confrontation with death made him reflect deeply on the meaning behind
human existence. Unique experiences, and reflections on those
experiences, made him a wise man and rooted him in the real world as n
rationalist.
Furthermore, this "as a morally challenging period in Bala's life and a
test of his strength of character as he struggled to cope with severe
economic hardship and meet the emotional and health needs of his
terminally ill partner. The many socio-economic problems he faced and
overcame throughout this chapter of his life stretched all dimensions of
his being to capacity, and he ultimately came to view goodness and
righteousness not as words culled from the pages of books or something
indoctrinated into us, but rather, as a harmonised faculty of mind and
action emanating from our essential being. Sadly, his wife succumbed to
her illness after five years of haemodialysis: much of it carried out at
home. It was during this highly demanding period his own mortality
stared him in the face - diabetes was diagnosed.
Subsequently, out of this exploration and reflection of the dynamics of
the personal self came this rather unique personality which I could only
describe as `religious'. And it was this `religious' type of personality
I knew I had been hoping to find in a partner.
But I prefer to use a different term and describe the man I met and who
became my husband as what I called a `real' human being. Bala was, when
I met him, most things I hoped the man I married would be; mature, wise,
mentally strong and most importantly, caring. By wise I did not mean an
intellectual and by mentally strong I did not mean 'macho', overbearing
or aggressive. I was hoping to meet that exceptional human being who is
humble but not weak: who is simple but yet deep; who is assertive but
not egoic; who is confident but not arrogant; who was generous; who is
proud but not vain; a person who is not selfish and thoughtless. That
was the man I met all those years ago, and I knew Balasingham was for me
within a few weeks of our first meeting.
A dimension of his `religious' bent was a lack of concern for
conventional lifestyles, saving, and all those other things that
ordinary folks are supposed to do. This lack of concern for material
security did, of course, put us into financial bankruptcy, but somehow
or other Bala always managed what little money we had so that we lived
to love and enjoy another day.
In his search for answers about life and
truth, Bala
also consumed volumes of works in the Western philosophical tradition.
But one of the major influences which counter balanced his `religious'
leanings was Marxism and neo-Marxist thought, which he was well versed
in, and about which he formulated his own many reservations and
criticisms.
That
philosophy should `change the world' was one of the aspects of
Marxism which did appeal to him as opposed to philosophy as the stuff of
ivory tower intellects or as thought systems incomprehensible or
unrealisable within the `normal' human potential.
Bala, I would say, was walking the fine line between these
two apparently
contradictory philosophical conceptions concerning the way forward
to an elevated humanity. On the one hand Eastern philosophy prioritised
individual subjective transformation as an essential condition for the
redemption of human beings, which he knew to be idealistic, and on the
other hand, socialist thought, with its emphasis on political praxis
through collective action, appeared to offer greater potential for real
transformation in the human condition.
In the interlude prior to his total immersion into revolutionary
politics he attempted to marry this apparent division between subjective
and objective approaches to human development by embarking on a
difficult doctorate of philosophy thesis that involved a theoretical
marriage between Marx and Freud.
But the demands of the revolutionary politics of the national liberation
struggle of his people constantly intervened in his research and
teaching. A time came when he was compelled to choose between an
academic life and revolutionary politics. He chose the latter for he
viewed the cause of his people as just and to serve that cause was
meaningful.
So it was this progressive and mature personality I loved. It was able
to cope with and was instrumental in 'filling out' my somewhat immature
and unrealised personality.
Retrospectively one of the most crucial contributions Bala made to the
growth of my personality was to help me to learn to put my subtle
feelings and emotions into precise words. Bala's wider intelligence and
personal experience, including his psychoanalytic knowledge, teased out
my inarticulated 'feelings' stifled by inhibitions and brought them into
cognition.
Subsequently, for the first time in my life I was able to reveal the
deeper `secret' side of myself and relate on an intensely intimate,
uninhibited level. This improved ability to manage language inevitably
widened my potential and scope for relationships, writing and
conversation.
And so my relationship with Bala deepened and generated happiness and
contentment in me. Just being with him seemed to be all that was
necessary and the restless, discontented person, immersed in a mundane
world characterised by consumerism and materialism faded away to the
priority of an enduring, intimate relationship with another human being.
Our wedding on 1st September 1978 was a simple, uncomplicated, formal
affair with the five-minute ceremony officiated by a bureaucrat at the
registry office in Brixton, South London. This social obligation had
been delayed by one week. We decided to marry and hoped to complete the
formalities the following day but we didn't have the required amount of
money for a 24 hours notice service, we did have enough for the next
best thing: a one week booking. Apart from informing a few close friends
and relatives, we didn't mention our forthcoming wedding to anyone.
As far as I was concerned, the wedding was a private commitment
between us. Nevertheless, in a community where nothing remains secret
for very long, the story leaked and in the evening a crowd gathered,
cooked a wedding dinner of hot goat meat curry with plenty of whisky to
wash it down and kicked up their heels at a fairly rowdy party. My
'bridal' outfit constituted a brown corduroy skirt and printed blouse,
which I rushed to purchase just two hours before the ceremony. In this
marriage I was lucky enough to enter into a partnership with - for want
of a better cliche - my `soulmate'. I suppose it was this fundamental
profound relationship which smoothed over the inevitable bumpy times in
our relationship.
But marrying Balasingham is one thing: getting involved in a
revolutionary struggle is another. 1 could have, had I been inclined
after marriage, taken a different path and attempted to sway Bala in
another direction. But I didn't. So why did I opt for the political path
and involvement in the Tamil people's struggle? While it is true that in
our early relationship Bala helped to `stabilise' or ground me in a more
serious world, I will never countenance any suggestion that I was simply
a tabula rasa upon which ideas were neatly and indelibly scribed. Nor
did I simply jump from London into India or Sri Lanka into circumstances
beyond my comprehension, moved like a naive nymph who danced to the
sweet chords plucked from the strings of her lover's serenading harp;
nor did I plunge from one mindset to another.
My involvement in politics and the liberation struggle of the Tamil
people involved a process of mental and emotional development and a
transformation of ideas and thinking or, to be more precise, a process
of personal growth. The burgeoning of my personality was certainly
facilitated when I left the sheltered life behind me on the shores of
Australia and entered into the 'big' world of England and Europe.
Or, as far as I am concerned, when my mind started to break down its
parochial resistance. Exposure to global humanity - which one finds in
England - challenged my socialised self, fed me with new perceptions,
lifestyles and thoughts and ultimately radicalised my views and my
perception of the world. My husband contributed to this process,
anchored me in unconventionality and provided me with an unfettered
emotional security in a way that enriched my life more than I could
possibly have imagined or expected.
from Page 354....
Bala's condition steadily deteriorated with him unable to get up off the
bed and confined to dark rooms away from the sunlight, and it appeared
that he would rapidly progress to a stage requiring emergency renal
replacement treatment in the near future. In such an eventuality, the
doctors were acutely aware, there was nothing they could offer Bala in
terms of treatment with the facilities that were available in the
Vanni...
The news that Bala was gravely ill and might not recover spread
throughout the movement like wildfire. Mr. Pirabakaran had obviously
informed his commanders of Bala's deteriorating condition and one by one
they appeared at the door anxious to see him, perhaps for the last
time...
Daily reports
In the meantime, Dr. Suri relayed daily reports to Mr Pirabakaran on
Bala's deteriorating condition. Mr. Pirabakaran sought and received the
collective medical opinion of several doctors in the Vanni. In their
medical opinion, Bala's best chance of survival and his long term
prognosis hinged on him being evacuated out of the country as soon as
possible to a place where medical facilities for the management of renal
failure were available. We immediately considered Tamil Nadu as a
preferred option for emergency medical treatment. Though some Tamil
political leaders -- our friends and sympathisers -- were willing to
help, we could not take the risk because of the proscription of the LTTE
in India. We pinned our hopes on a request to a foreign country after
Mr. Pirabakaran instructed our international secretariat to contact the
Norwegian government.
The Norwegian Ambassador in Colombo, Mr. Jon Westborg was thoroughly
briefed by the former Foreign Minister Mr. Hameed, on the significance
of Bala to any future negotiating process between the LTTE and the Sri
Lanka government. Westborg was given the green light by his government
to investigate the authenticity of the information concerning Bala's
condition and the ICRC was called in to assist in this process. About
five weeks after the onset of Bala's illness, an ICRC team headed by Mr.
Max Hadorn, then the chief of the delegation in Colombo, accompanied by
a doctor, arrived in the Vanni with a request to visit Bala and to carry
out a medical examination. The delegation visited our house in
Puthukuddiruppu and the response of the doctor to the delegate leader
following the examination of Bala was, in his words, 'He must be removed
as early as possible.' After collecting blood and urine specimens for
further analysis to validate the full extent of his illness, the ICRC
delegation returned to Colombo with a promise of follow up.
The Norwegian Government, with the moral support of the ICRC, approached
Chandrika Kumaratunga to seek a safe evacuation of Bala out of Sri Lanka
on humanitarian grounds. Chandrika was told that Bala was critically ill
with renal insufficiency and that he needed emergency treatment abroad
and the Norwegian Government was willing to help. The Norwegians had
also impressed upon Kumaratunga the significance of saving Bala's life
for a possible future peace process between the LTTE and the Sri Lanka
Government. There were extensive deliberations in Colombo and Mr.
Kadirgamar was also consulted. The Norwegians had informed us through
our representative in Oslo that the Government of Sri Lanka was
favourably considering Bala's case and even discussing logistics for the
evacuation of Bala. Mr. Pirabakaran looked relieved and pleased when he
brought this news.
On that particular day, as a measure of goodwill and as a significant
humanitarian gesture, Mr. Pirabakaran released nine soldiers (prisoners
of war) and crewmen in the custody of the LTTE. Now we were waiting for
a positive response from the Kumaratunga Government. Several anxious
days passed. There was no response and Bala's condition was
deteriorating. In desperation we contacted the ICRC. To our dismay, the
ICRC delegate told us that their organisation was kept out of the
Colombo discussions on Bala's case since Mr. Kadirgamar did not trust
them. After two months of waiting in anxious expectation, we finally
received a message from the Norwegian Government. Chandrika and
Kadirgamar had worked out a list of demands (or guarantees) for the LTTE
to fulfil as 'significant reciprocal humanitarian gestures' if Bala had
to be evacuated with the assistance of Sri Lanka.
With honour
Firstly, the Tiger leadership should guarantee that the LTTE should not
disrupt or impede the Government administration in the northeastern
province nor should they attack and destroy any Government property in
Tamil areas. Secondly, the LTTE should not threaten or attack any sea or
air transport (supplies) to the Northeast. Thirdly, the LTTE should not
attack any public property throughout the country. Fourthly, the LTTE
should release all persons in LTTE's custody, not merely those known to
the ICRC, but others also. In this context, the Government claimed --
without any concrete proof -- that the LTTE was holding at least two
hundred and fifty persons without the knowledge of the ICRC. Fifthly,
the LTTE should release all cadres under the age of eighteen in its
forces to the next of kin.
From this list of demands or rather 'guarantees' we knew that Chandrika
was demanding her pound of flesh exploiting the vulnerable situation of
the LTTE. These demands -- which were of a military nature affecting the
very mode of armed struggle -- had no relevance whatsoever to a
humanitarian request seeking only safe passage for the evacuation of a
person suffering from a critical renal illness. This attitude betrayed
the callous and calculative nature of Chandrika Kumaratunga. Bala and I
rejected these conditions outright. Bala said he preferred to die with
honour and self-respect rather than acceding to these humiliating
demands. Mr. Pirabakaran was furious with Chandrika and Kadirgamar for
stipulating such unacceptable conditions. The president's position on
this matter had a profoundly negative impact on the thinking of the LTTE
leadership. If she could not favourably consider a simple humanitarian
plea compassionately for the future prospect of peace, how would she be
able to resolve the most difficult and complex of all the issues the,
Tamil ethnic conflict? This was the feeling that prevailed amongst the
LTTE leaders at that time.
Miraculously, as weeks passed by, new blood results revealed that Bala
had survived the acute crisis he had been in and had settled into
chronic renal insufficiency. Nevertheless, the urgency of Bala leaving
the Vanni for medical care did not decline. The doctors were constantly
concerned that the environment posed a serious threat to his health and
they were uncertain of the length of time before Bala would require
renal replacement therapy. For me, every day management of his wellbeing
became a nightmare. His strict diet precluded so many foods and his
weight dropped dramatically. I was constantly aware of the coming
monsoon season and that the seas would then be impassable, condemning us
to another four months wait in the Vanni until the weather changed. I
was desperate that he should leave the Vanni while he was well enough to
make the journey and before the monsoon set in. The anxiety within me
surfaced when Mr. Pirabakaran and Mathy made a visit to our house. I
explained to the couple about Bala's precarious health condition
emphasising the urgency of evacuating him abroad for treatment. If this
was not done immediately, Bala's death was inevitable, I told them,
while struggling to contain my emotions. Apparently moved by my
distress, Mr. Pirabakaran understood the critical situation. He too
loved and respected Bala and was deeply concerned about his wellbeing.
He consoled me by assuring that he would do everything within his power
and resources to send 'Bala Anna' abroad for treatment. Mr. Pirabakaran
acted immediately. He alerted his international network to arrange a
ship to evacuate Bala. Within weeks we received news that our ship was
moored in the deep sea, waiting for us.
With news of our imminent departure, leaders and cadres of the LTTE
flocked to our house for a final farewell. My stomach grew tighter and
my appetite declined in the days approaching our departure on 23rd
January 1999. Of course it was imperative for Bala to be taken out of
the Vanni, but I had no appetite to leave the people and the struggle
behind. When Tamilenthi came to our house on the afternoon of our
departure day I knew that our time to leave was near.
When Tamil Chelvan arrived in his Pajero to escort us to the beach,
the time was nearer. When Soosai swung into our driveway in the vehicle
to take us to his camp on the Mullaitivu coast I knew we would be on our
way soon. We had only to wait for Mr. Pirabakaran's arrival. When he
finally came, he briefly spoke to Bala and me bidding us goodbye. Jokes
and smiles hid each other's sadness. Bala, restraining his emotions,
ignored Jimmy, his faithful old dog of fifteen years, who looked up at
him expectantly, got into the Pajero and stared ahead. Unable to resist
Jimmy's beckoning to us, I patted her on the head then looked around at
everyone, and finally to Mr. Pirabakaran for the last time. Our vehicle
sped away from the house. It was all over.
It was the first week of February 1999. The location: a bustling and
enterprising capital city of a South East Asian nation. As we walked
into the reception hall of the modern, clean hospital to which Bala was
to be admitted for emergency medical examination, a sense of relief that
I was no longer alone in my efforts to keep him alive swept over me.
Doctors with the knowledge and a hospital with facilities to manage his
illness were readily available to deal with medical problems that might
arise.
Within thirty six hours of his admission all the results of the main
medical tests were available and the caring and reassuring consultant
finally clarified the medical picture concerning Bala's ill health and
gave us some insight into what lay ahead for us. He confirmed that the
medical reports were consistent with diabetic nephropathy and that it
was a progressive disease: he was reluctant to commit himself to our
queries regarding the duration before he would require renal replacement
therapy. But more urgent and a cause for concern for the medical staff
was the grossly enlarged left kidney that was revealed on ultra-sound
examination. The kidney was totally obstructed and non functioning; the
doctors were unable to identify the cause of the obstruction but they
were conclusive that it would have to be removed as soon as possible.
The renal surgeon at the side of Bala's post-operative bed in the
intensive care unit picked up the specimen bag. He showed me the huge
sick kidney he had taken four hours to remove from Bala and pointed out
that had there been any further delay in operating, the kidney would
have ruptured, causing a medical crisis. Nevertheless, under the caring
and professional management of the doctors and nurses, Bala made a
remarkable recovery following his left nephrectomy and he was discharged
with advice concerning management of his nephropathy. One hurdle was
over. It was now imperative to find away out of the country before we
were arrested as illegal immigrants and while Bala was well enough to
travel before he progressed to the stage of requiring renal replacement
therapy.
We continued to live an underground life in the capital, trying to avoid
drawing attention to ourselves, while we pondered a safe way out of the
country to return to London. Since we had entered the country without
valid documents and out of date passports it was impossible for us to
run the risk of passing through airport terminals. We had no intention
of acting foolishly and jeopardising our safety and freedom at this
stage. Our first task in the process of leaving the country was to
reverse our illegal status by securing at least a valid passport. We
established contact with our old friends in London, which led eventually
to an agreement by the British Foreign Office for arrangements to be
made for Bala to collect his new passport at a British Embassy outside
England. The Australian Embassy in London was co-operative in allowing
my appointed representative to collect my new passport for me. Friends
in the country we were trapped in willingly endorsed our travel
documents, allowing us to pass safely through immigration on our way out
of the country.
Our return to London, in my view, heralded the beginning of another
challenging chapter in my life. Bala's medical needs would require
fundamental adjustments to our lifestyle and priorities. The
nephrologists in a London hospital fobbed off any suggestion of renal
transplant for Bala, ruling out the prospect of him regaining his lost
quality of life since he became unwell. It was during these uncertain
days the Norwegians entered into our lives as brokers of peace. Mr. Erik
Solheim, Mr. Wegger Strommen, the former State Secretary in the
Norwegian Foreign Ministry, Mr. Jon Westborg, Norwegian Ambassador in
Colombo, and Ms. Kjersti Tromsdal, Executive Officer, met us at our
residence in South West London to explore the feasibility of peace talks
between the LTTE and the Sri Lanka Government. After having consulted
the leadership in Vanni, the LTTE agreed to the Norwegian facilitation.
Viable option
In view of Bala's steadily deteriorating renal condition, the Norwegian
Government offered medical assistance on humanitarian grounds. In
Norwegian medical opinion, renal transplantation was a viable option for
Bala and one worth exploring. Subsequently, Bala was flown to the
Norwegian capital Oslo, and admitted to the main general hospital where
he was subjected to thorough medical tests to ascertain whether or not
his physical condition was conducive to successful renal
transplantation. He received a positive response to his suitability for
transplant and we decided to proceed. In the early part of 2000 Bala
underwent renal transplant surgery and made an uncomplicated and steady
recovery. He was discharged from hospital almost a new man.
While Bala was staying in a hotel in Oslo recuperating from his
transplant operation, Chandrika Kumaratunga, in an interview given to
the Far Eastern Economic Review, incredulously claimed that it was she
who granted permission to the Norwegian Government for Bala's treatment.
This was a blatantly false and irresponsible statement. We contacted the
Norwegian Foreign Ministry and registered our protest. The Norwegian
government was also annoyed: they had not sought permission from
Kumaratunga for Bala's treatment. The Norwegian Government made the
decision purely on humanitarian grounds.
Of course Chandrika was informed about Bala's successful
transplantation surgery later, through the Norwegian Ambassador in
Colombo. We requested the Norwegian authorities to clarify the matter.
Accordingly, a senior Norwegian Foreign Ministry official issued a
statement rebutting Chandrika's claim. Bala also gave a lengthy
interview to the Tamil Guardian (25th March 2000) explaining how
Chandrika and Kadirgamar imposed impossible conditions on the LTTE and
refused to help Norway and the ICRC who sought a safe passage for Bala
out of the island. Following the renal transplant Bala was able to
resume his political work and we have subsequently continued our
involvement in the struggle at the diplomatic level in London.
