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President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s recent speech at the 16th National War Heroes’ Commemoration has ignited a flurry of criticism from various quarters. The accusations against him range from downplaying the heroism of the armed forces to equating the Sri Lankan military with the LTTE. However, such critiques often arise from a selective, sentence-by-sentence dissection of the speech rather than a fair engagement with its tone, purpose, and overall message. In truth, President Dissanayake’s speech marks a bold and necessary shift in Sri Lanka’s national conversation about the war — one that aims not to dishonour the past, but to heal the nation’s future. 

The Tone, Not Just the Text

To begin with, it is essential to appreciate the speech in its entirety rather than pick apart individual phrases. Attempting to extract one line — such as “the war was fought for peace” — and analyse it in isolation can yield countless interpretations. Indeed, while that phrase may not sit easily with all communities who bore the brunt of violence, the broader message was clear: war was not an end in itself but a tragic symptom of deeper failures — political, social, and economic.

It would be more accurate to frame the conflict as a violent confrontation between the LTTE, which waged a separatist struggle through armed insurgency, and the Sri Lankan state, which responded with military force to quell the insurgency after several failed attempts to bring the LTTE to the negotiating table. But the obsession with semantics obscures the speech’s moral appeal: that the true victory lies not merely in vanquishing an enemy, but in building a society where such bloodshed is never repeated.

The Language of Humanity

Some critics took issue with the President’s consistent use of the term “soldiers” rather than “war heroes.” But this is not an insult. It is a deliberate choice to humanise the military — to recognise them not just as agents of state victory, but as individuals who bled and died amid profound tragedy due to the failure of successive Governments to address the grievances (both real and perceived) of the citizenry. By using neutral language, President Dissanayake opened the door to shared remembrance, not triumphalist celebration.

Sri Lanka’s military personnel deserve recognition, and President Dissanayake did not fail them. On the contrary, he paid solemn tribute to their sacrifices and visited Mihindu Seth Medura, a care facility for disabled veterans, in a powerful gesture of empathy and acknowledgment. In fact, one cannot watch the TV visuals from that visit without better understanding the President’s description of the war as a waste of human and material resources. These are not the words of someone disrespecting the military — they are
the words of a leader refusing to romanticise suffering.

In fact, observing the disabilities of the inmates one cannot but help realise the full import of the President’s words. A father, a husband, a brother, a son lost to the next of kin because of a war that could and should have been averted.

War Is Tragedy, Not Glory

The statement that “war is a waste of resources” has been seized upon by detractors as evidence of disdain toward the armed forces. But this interpretation misrepresents the target of the President’s criticism. The “waste of resources” has been misinterpreted by the critics to mean “state resources”. In fact the argument that it was a waste of resources would apply to state resources as well as the resources commanded by the LTTE which would together constitute “national resources.” He did not condemn the soldiers who fought; his was a criticism of the decades of political failure that led Sri Lanka to war in the first place. Over 70,000 lives were lost, billions were spent, and entire generations were scarred. That is not glory — it is devastation.

If anything, the President’s speech restores dignity to the military’s sacrifice by placing it in the tragic context it deserves. It is not disrespectful to say that their sacrifice should not have been necessary. It is the deepest form of respect to commit to ensuring that no future generation is sent to fight a war that could have been prevented.

Avoiding the Pitfall of False Equivalence

Some voices have accused the President of drawing moral equivalence between the Sri Lankan armed forces and the LTTE. This is a serious charge and a dangerous distortion. Nowhere in his speech did President Dissanayake equate the state’s duty to uphold national unity with the LTTE’s campaign of terror and secession. As he rightly pointed out, grief knows no ethnicity.

To heal, Sri Lanka must acknowledge all suffering, whether caused by the LTTE’s ruthless tactics or the state’s excesses. A national memory built solely on the language of victory cannot accommodate the full truth. A just and lasting reconciliation demands we abandon binary narratives of heroes and villains and instead see the war as a tragedy for the entire nation.

Justice for the Defenders: More Than Lip Service

While critics accuse the President of disrespecting the military, they remain silent on the real indignities suffered by war veterans and their families. Over 60,000 service personnel were wounded during the war. Thousands have been left with lifelong disabilities. Yet many languish in poverty, face bureaucratic indifference, and struggle to access proper medical or psychological care.

Widows and families often receive insufficient pensions. Promises of preferential employment and education for veterans’ children remain unfulfilled or poorly implemented. The case of former Army Chief Sarath Fonseka is a cautionary tale: once hailed as the architect of victory, he was imprisoned when he challenged the political elite. If this is how the “biggest war hero” was treated, what hope is there for the rank and file?

It is not President Dissanayake who insults the military. It is a political culture that uses them as symbols when convenient, only to abandon them once the war is out of sight. By visiting Mihindu Seth Medura and acknowledging the long-term cost of war, the President reminded the nation that supporting war veterans requires more than parades — it requires policy, compassion, and accountability.

Toward a Truly Sovereign Nation

Another powerful aspect of the President’s speech was his declaration that Sri Lanka has yet to achieve true sovereignty. At first glance, this may seem odd, coming more than a decade after the war’s end. But his point was not geographical — it was moral and institutional. What use is military victory if the people remain economically burdened, politically disenfranchised, and socially divided?

The path to sovereignty must go through reconciliation, accountability, and reform. This includes dismantling systems that profit from racism, addressing the grievances of all communities, and building institutions that serve every citizen equally. The President’s warning against exploiting ethnic tension for political gain is a timely reminder that the seeds of conflict are still present — and must be consciously uprooted.

A New Chapter in National Memory

The President’s speech marks an evolution in how Sri Lanka remembers its past. While previous leaders, such as Maithripala Sirisena, acknowledged the need for healing, they often remained trapped in the language of conquest and national victory. President Dissanayake is the first head of state to go beyond this narrative — to remind us that peace is not simply the absence of war, but the presence of justice, inclusion, and empathy.

His call for unity among all communities — Sinhala, Tamil, Muslim, Burgher, and Malay — was not mere rhetoric. It was a moral imperative. Remembrance must bind, not divide. It must acknowledge not only the dead, but the living — especially those still suffering from the consequences of war, whether in war-ravaged villages or veteran care homes.

Conclusion: Memory With Moral Clarity

President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s commemoration speech did not weaken the nation’s memory; it strengthened it. By refusing to reduce remembrance to hollow nationalism, he invited Sri Lanka to reflect, to heal, and to grow. His critics would do well to consider not just what was said, but how and why it was said.

Yes, individual phrases may be open to debate. But that is the nature of discourse in a free society. What should not be in doubt is the validity of the President’s attempt to move beyond the rhetoric of victory, and toward a new language of reconciliation — one in which grief is shared, peace is prized, and no sacrifice is taken for granted.   

(javidyusuf@gmail.com)