The cost of celebration

On 19 July, the Sri Lankan government put on a massive celebration for what it termed the "final defeat" of the LTTE in the east of the country, with the 11 July eviction of the Tamil rebels from the jungles of Thoppigala. Observers said that the festivities were the largest victory celebrations ever to have taken place during the course of the three-decade war. In keeping with archaic royal tradition, President Mahinda Rajapakse was presented with a scroll by the heads of the Sri Lankan military, informing him of the victory.

The receipt of scrolls, however, is no guarantee of enduring success, or of an end to war, as Sri Lanka's recent history would testify. In 1995, the man in charge of the Sri Lankan military forces, Colonel Anuruddha Ratwatte (subsequently promoted to general), arranged a similar scroll-receiving ceremony for then-President Chandrika Kumaratunga to announce the "liberation" of Jaffna from the LTTE. Irrespective of the pomp, the war inevitably continued well beyond General Ratwatte's term. Moreover, the official rhetoric of the 'grand military victory' that recaptured Jaffna did not go down well with the island's Tamil populace. A similar charge of insensitivity towards Tamil sensibilities could today be levelled against the Rajapakse government. The east now lies devastated, with a large proportion of its population displaced as a result of the military operations. To Tamils, even those who have no truck with the LTTE, this is no time for celebration.

There is also a very real potential downside for the government in the devastation of LTTE structures in the east. With the fall of Thoppigala, the last remaining LTTE administrative centre in the region was dismantled. The home-grown courts of law, the police and civil-administration systems of which the LTTE was so proud, will no longer be able to offer any legitimacy to the group's claim to separate statehood. Whatever moderating influence the political wing of the LTTE might have exerted on its military wing will therefore have been dramatically reduced.

An ominous sign came immediately after the government's over-running of Thoppigala, in the form of a warning by S P Thamilselvan. The LTTE political-wing leader announced to the international media that the LTTE would soon be striking at both military and economic targets, with the aim of crippling the Colombo government. A few days later, on 16 July, the government's Chief Administrative Officer for the east, Herath Abeyweera, was shot dead, undoubtedly by Tamil Tiger militants.

In the months ahead, the LTTE may seek to boost its morale by making menacing threats with regard to its military capacities, and by harking back to recoveries made in the past after seemingly devastating defeats. In 1992, for instance, when the government grabbed full control over the Eastern Province, the rebels were able to make a comeback through stealth during the succeeding months. The Tigers did not need to launch major military operations in order to do so, either; instead, they simply waited until the government reduced its troop concentrations in the area, then seized the opportunity to strengthen its own control.

To the north
In the current context, however, the LTTE rout is unlikely to be easily reversible. This time around, the rebels will have to face competition from their former comrades – the breakaway, government-supported Karuna group, which is now a significant presence in the east. Unlike in the past, the diversion of state troops to operations elsewhere will not translate automatically into a military vacuum that the LTTE can fill.

As would be expected, with the east of the country currently seen as being relatively secure, the government seems to be shifting the theatre of military confrontation to the north. Most of the territory of the Northern Province is controlled by the LTTE, and here too the Tigers have set up an elaborate structure of military bases and civil administrative centres.

But the costs to the government of a major military campaign in the north will be much higher – perhaps intolerably high – for two reasons. First, Vanni is the LTTE's stronghold; unlike in the east, where the Tigers lost the support of the Karuna group, here the LTTE is undivided. Second, if the LTTE's existence as a politico-administrative entity in Vanni is threatened, it is likely to resort to increased attacks outside the north and the east, particularly in Colombo.

If such a wave of LTTE strikes does indeed come, the government will use it to justify its widely criticised state-sponsored eviction of Tamils from Colombo, which was temporarily halted by the Supreme Court. Indeed, without a political solution, the Tamil grievances that gave birth to the LTTE will continue to destabilise the polity, and the powerful Tamil diaspora will remain a formidable foe of the Sri Lankan state.

Since its election in November 2005, President Rajapakse's administration has shown itself to be much less sensitive to the human, economic and moral costs of the civil conflict than its predecessors had been. The question must now be pondered as to how long the Sri Lankan electorate is prepared to bear these heavy costs. While it is true that people cannot live on bread alone, the government's diet of military victories is unlikely to be fully satisfying either.