Prabhakaran: Forgotten price of a struggle

 Velupillai Prabhakaran

• Reflecting on the life, legacy, and cost of Velupillai Prabhakaran’s revolution

 By Luxman Aravind

In 1984, in an interview with Anita Pratap, Velupillai Prabhakaran, leader of the Tamil Tigers and self-styled champion of Tamil Eelam, shared his views on the geopolitical dynamics influencing the Sri Lankan conflict: “Induction of US arms is not only a threat to the Tamil freedom movement but also to India’s national security. America’s objective, as you will certainly be aware, is not simply confined to helping the Sri Lankan army to crush the Tamil liberation struggle. Their ultimate aim is to secure a naval base at Trincomalee. Such a happening will convert the Indian Ocean into a war zone, and will increase the tension prevalent in the region.” 

These words, spoken with the conviction of a revolutionary in the midst of a struggle for survival, reveal the worldview of Prabhakaran—a worldview deeply entwined with a perception of global conspiracies, the relentless pursuit of Tamil liberation, and an unyielding faith in military power. He saw himself not just as a leader of the Tamil people, but as a man on a mission to fight against the forces of imperialism, global hegemony, and Sinhala oppression. Yet, as history would later unfold, it would become painfully clear that the path Prabhakaran chose would not lead to liberation, but to a tragic, and ultimately futile, pursuit of an unattainable ideal. If Prabhakaran were alive, he would be marking his 70th birthday, yesterday, 26 November. 

Prabhakaran’s life and the movement he led, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), were marked by violence, militarism, and an unrelenting pursuit of an independent Tamil Eelam. The Tamil struggle for autonomy, born from years of State-sanctioned violence, political marginalisation, and cultural suppression, was legitimate. Yet, the very methods Prabhakaran embraced—armed insurrection, assassination, terrorism, and the ruthless use of child soldiers—have left behind a legacy that raises uncomfortable questions about the cost of such a struggle. It is not simply a question of the Tamil Eelam that was lost, but of whether it was ever a feasible dream in the first place.

Prabhakaran’s vision for Tamil Eelam

 Velupillai Prabhakaran’s vision for Tamil Eelam was clear: the Tamil people would no longer live under the oppression of the Sinhalese majority. He dreamt of a sovereign Tamil homeland, where the Tamils could control their destiny and escape the horrors they had endured under successive Sri Lankan governments. His words, often fiery and impassioned, embodied a deep sense of injustice. In one speech, he said: “The Tamils of Sri Lanka have been subjected to a war of annihilation. Our homes, our lands, and our people have been destroyed… the Tamil nation cannot live in the Sinhala-dominated state any longer. We must create our own state.” These words were, and remain, potent in their resonance. 

Yet, as his leadership of the LTTE unfolded, Prabhakaran’s ideas, initially rooted in self-determination and resistance, became dangerously intertwined with the logic of militarism. In his quest for Tamil Eelam, Prabhakaran sought to overthrow the Sri Lankan state through armed struggle. But this was not merely a defensive struggle. Over time, it became clear that the LTTE, under Prabhakaran’s leadership, was not simply fighting to defend Tamil lives—it was engaged in a war to dominate, control, and establish its own form of statehood, through violence, coercion, and terror. 

Prabhakaran’s strategies included bombings, targeted assassinations, and the recruitment of child soldiers—each decision evidence to his belief that the only way forward was through force. He once remarked: “In our struggle, the strongest weapon is our will, and the most powerful force is the determination of the Tamil people.” It is evident that Prabhakaran’s worldview was constructed on an unwavering belief in the moral superiority of his cause, which he saw as a righteous, almost divine, struggle. This conviction led him to justify increasingly brutal tactics.

 Undeniable cost of these tactics

However, it is impossible to ignore the undeniable cost of these tactics. While the Tamil Eelam movement began as a legitimate response to State violence, it became increasingly mired in its own forms of oppression. The LTTE’s use of child soldiers, the forcible conscription of youths too young to comprehend the full weight of the war, was one of the darkest chapters of Prabhakaran’s leadership. The international community condemned the LTTE for its recruitment of children, but Prabhakaran remained resolute, even when confronted with the undeniable horrors it wrought. The use of children as soldiers is perhaps one of the most unforgivable aspects of Prabhakaran’s militant mindset. 

Children, whose futures should have been filled with education, hope, and growth, were transformed into instruments of war. The psychological and emotional damage inflicted on these children is immeasurable. Many were robbed of their childhood and forced to commit acts of violence. They became living examples to the lost potential of an entire generation, manipulated by a leader whose vision was so consumed by warfare that it forgot to value life beyond the battlefield.

Prabhakaran’s relationship with Tamil intellectuals and political moderates is another dark aspect of his legacy. Tamil intellectuals, many of whom sought peaceful solutions to the Tamil issue, were often branded as traitors or collaborators with the enemy. In one notorious incident, several prominent Tamil intellectuals, scholars, and politicians were assassinated by LTTE operatives. These intellectuals, some of whom advocated for autonomy within a united Sri Lanka or for peaceful negotiation, were silenced by the LTTE’s iron-fisted rule. The LTTE’s purge of intellectuals stifled any meaningful discourse and dissent within the Tamil community, forcing the movement to function in an increasingly authoritarian manner.

 The danger of Prabhakaran’s militant ideology

Prabhakaran once declared: “We will not stop until we achieve freedom. The Tamil people have suffered for too long. We will fight until we achieve a sovereign Tamil state, and no one can stop us.” In this statement lies a truth that encapsulates the danger of Prabhakaran’s militant ideology: an uncompromising will to fight, without room for flexibility, adaptation, or dialogue. The cost of such obstinacy was evident in the LTTE’s treatment of Tamil moderates and intellectuals, who were seen as obstacles to the unyielding nature of Prabhakaran’s vision. The assassination of intellectuals removed the Tamil community’s ability to debate, reflect, and evolve politically, leaving them at the mercy of a movement that became more and more radical with each passing year. 

Had Prabhakaran recognised the importance of intellectual engagement and non-violent political discourse, the Tamil struggle might have retained some semblance of hope for a peaceful resolution. But as the LTTE became an increasingly insular and brutal entity, it mirrored the same oppressive practices that it had once condemned in the Sri Lankan Government. 

The creation of Tamil Eelam, the dream that Prabhakaran cherished above all else, was never realised. Instead, the LTTE’s war, culminating in the Sri Lankan military’s final assault in 2009, left the Tamil people devastated. The civilian toll was catastrophic: thousands of innocent lives were lost in the crossfire between the LTTE and Sri Lankan forces. The Tamil diaspora, once hopeful of a free homeland, watched as the dream of Tamil Eelam was violently crushed.

In the final stages of the war, when the Sri Lankan army surrounded the LTTE’s stronghold in the north, Prabhakaran continued to fight, unwilling to surrender. He refused any peace negotiations, even as the Sri Lankan forces advanced relentlessly. The battle for Tamil Eelam became a fight to the death, and the end result was tragic—Prabhakaran was killed, the LTTE was defeated, and Tamil Eelam was nothing more than a distant dream. What had begun as a movement for justice, equality, and liberation had descended into a bloodbath, with no true victor.

The ultimate cost of this war, of Prabhakaran’s dogged pursuit of his vision, was not only the loss of lives on both sides of the conflict but also the loss of a political future for the Tamil people. As the LTTE’s grip on the Tamil community tightened, it alienated potential allies, compromised moral high ground, and ultimately undermined the struggle it had set out to champion.

Yet to rebuild what was lost

In his final speech, Prabhakaran’s words echoed a sense of defeat: “We have fought this battle with courage and conviction, but it is a sad day for our people that our dream of Tamil Eelam has not been realised. But the struggle will continue.” These words ring hollow now, for the Tamil people, shattered by years of violence, have yet to rebuild what was lost. The LTTE may have claimed to represent the Tamil cause, but in the end, it left behind a fractured, disillusioned people.  Prabhakaran’s life raises profound questions about the nature of liberation. Can true freedom ever be achieved through violence? The Tamil struggle for autonomy was born out of real oppression, and it was a struggle that deserved international recognition and support. Yet, Prabhakaran’s approach to achieving that autonomy—through unrelenting warfare, child soldiers, and assassination—raises the question of whether the means justified the end.

 The Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, whose work Thirukkural remains a guiding light for Tamil wisdom, offers a counterpoint to the militaristic mindset embodied by Prabhakaran. Thiruvalluvar’s teachings emphasise the importance of restraint, wisdom, and compassion in all endeavours. “He who seeks to destroy the wicked with cruelty is like one who sets fire to a tree in order to destroy a termite.” Prabhakaran’s struggle, though born of righteous anger, devolved into a destructive force that ultimately harmed the Tamil people as much as it did their oppressors. 

Prabhakaran’s failure was in not recognising that liberation cannot be achieved solely through violence. It must be coupled with wisdom, dialogue, and a commitment to peace. The lesson of his life is that an uncompromising belief in violence, no matter how justified the cause, ultimately leads to destruction, not liberation. 

The life of Velupillai Prabhakaran serves as a poignant reminder of the dangers of an ideology consumed by violence. To some, he is a hero, a martyr who fought valiantly for the rights of the Tamil people. To others, he is a tyrant, a man whose ruthless pursuit of an unattainable dream left behind a trail of destruction, death, and suffering. While the Tamil people’s struggle for justice remains valid, the path to that justice must be rooted in wisdom, compassion, and a willingness to engage in dialogue. The failure of Tamil Eelam, and the price paid for it, can never be undone. But perhaps the greatest lesson of Prabhakaran’s life is this: that true liberation, for any people, can only come when violence is set aside in favour of peace, understanding, and the recognition of the humanity of all. 

In the words of the Thirukkural, “கடவுளைக் கண்டவரே செயல் தப்பா, பிறர்க்கு நன்மையாய் இருக்க..”

 (Those who unde-rstand the divine path will act without harm, and be a benefit to others.) True liberation, like true wisdom, is not achieved through destruction, but through a commitment to building a world where all people—regardless of their ethnicity, religion, or background—can live in peace and dignity.