Preserve Tamil Eelam War Heritage: An Urgent Call to Save Historical Sites

Introduction
Across Sri Lanka’s northern and eastern provinces, the physical remnants of a brutal decades-long civil war – from clandestine bunkers and battle-scarred buildings to war memorials and cemeteries – are under threat of erasure. These sites bear witness to the history of the Eelam Tamil struggle and suffering during the war. Yet today they are being systematically destroyed, defaced, or neglected, a process that amounts to an erasure of memory. Every demolished bunker or bulldozed memorial robs future generations of a landmark of Tamil history and heritage. This article is a plea for immediate action: for the Sri Lankan government to halt the destruction and for the Eelam Tamil community – together with all who cherish historical truth – to demand the preservation of these war-related sites. The urgency cannot be overstated; if we allow these scarred landmarks to vanish, we allow a vital chapter of Sri Lanka’s history to be wiped away, and with it the stories, sacrifices, and identities of a people.

Tamils’ War Landmarks at Risk: Bunkers, Cemeteries and Monuments in Peril

In the years since the war’s end in 2009, numerous sites imbued with deep significance for Eelam Tamils have been intentionally targeted for destruction or left in ruin. This purge has included military fortifications of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) as well as monuments and “Thuyilum Illam” cemeteries that commemorated the dead. Consider a few stark examples:

LTTE Leader’s Bunker (Mullaitivu):

One of Tamil National Leader Hounorable Velupillai Prabhakaran’s last hideouts became a grim tourist attraction after the war – until the army detonated explosives inside it in 2013, stating there was “no reason to keep the ghosts of terrorism” any longer. This bunker, which had drawn busloads of Sinhalese visitors curious about the defeated Tamil Tigers, was reduced to rubble overnight. What had served as a site of remembrance for many Tamils in the North was deliberately obliterated under the pretext of safety and removing a potential shrine.

Bulldozed War Cemeteries:

All 28 LTTE war cemeteries (Maaveerar Thuyilum Illam, or “Great Heroes’ resting places”) across the North-East were systematically bulldozed by Sri Lankan forces after the war. For instance, the largest such cemetery in Visuvamadu – which housed over 4,000 graves of fighters – was razed to the ground even before the official end of hostilities in May 2009. In place of some cemeteries, military camps or bases were erected, literally built atop the sacred ground where Tamil sons and daughters lay buried. Now, many of these sites are nothing but cement fragments in a field, or fenced-off high-security zones that Tamil families cannot access.

Mullivaikkal "Genocide" Memorials (Northern Mullaitivu):

Mullivaikkal – the coastal village where tens of thousands of Tamil civilians perished in the war’s final onslaught – remains a focal point of remembrance for Tamils. Yet efforts to mark this hallowed ground have been met with vandalism and obstruction. In May 2021, a monument at Mullivaikkal with outstretched hands (built by survivors to honor those killed) was found smashed, its broken pieces “tossed into the sand,” and a newly installed memorial stone had disappeared overnight. Tamil observers accused the army of orchestrating this “continuing attack” on Tamils’ right to memorialize their dead, calling it “a deliberate… act of trying to erase Tamils’ identity”. An outraged Tamil parliamentarian denounced the desecration as “the height of indecency”, noting that destroying a mere stone plaque “has demolished the hearts of lakhs (hundreds of thousands) of Tamil people”.

Jaffna University Geenocide Monument:

In January 2021, under cover of darkness, authorities demolished a memorial on the Jaffna University campus that had been erected to commemorate the tens of thousands of Tamils who died in the final phase of the war. Officials claimed the monument – a striking sculpture of arms rising from earth – was a “threat to national unity” and said “no one will be allowed to commemorate dead terrorists”. The demolition sparked immediate and widespread protests. Students went on hunger strike, asserting “we have the right to mourn our loved ones… This act is an insult… an act of denial of a people’s right to memory”. The outcry, joined by Tamil communities worldwide, forced authorities to relent and rebuild the monument shortly after – a rare reversal that underlines how powerful public demand can be in protecting heritage.

These cases are not isolated. From the defacement of the Col. Thileepan statue in Jaffna (a memorial to a 1987 Tamil hunger-striker), to the razing of Tamil leaders’ homes, and the replacement of Tamil monuments with triumphalist military statues, a clear pattern emerges. As one editorial observed, since 2010 the government has pursued a policy literally headlined “wipe out LTTE landmarks”, seeking to make the Tamil armed resistance era vanish from the landscape. This campaign saw not only graves and memorials erased but even the homes of LTTE leaders demolished to make way for hotels and army-run tourist facilities. Meanwhile, in the very spots where Tamil history has been scrubbed away, the State has erected its own narrative in stone – building numerous “victory monuments,” Buddhist shrines in Tamil-majority areas, and war museums that glorify the Army’s role while vilifying the Tamil fighters. The result is a landscape in which one community’s story is lionized, and the other’s is literally buried.

Significance of These Sites: Memory, Identity, and Healing

Why must these war-related sites be preserved? Because they are far more than old bunkers or broken stones – they are repositories of collective memory and pillars of cultural identity for the Eelam Tamil people. The architecture of war carries the stories of those who lived and died through it. Preserving it allows those stories to be told to future generations, fostering understanding and remembrance. Destroying it, by contrast, inflicts a form of “memorycide,” denying a community the physical markers of its past and thus a portion of its identity.

Cultural Identity and Historical Truth:

The scars of war – a shattered bunker, a bullet-riddled building, a field of toppled headstones – are tangible reminders of what the Tamil people endured. They testify to a narrative that might otherwise be denied or forgotten. “Architecture is a physical representation of history… It can form a group’s consciousness”, writes one observer, and conversely, covering up the signs of conflict can “manipulate a people’s sense of history, memory and self.” For Sri Lankan Tamils, sites like the Thuyilum Illam were not morbid curiosities; they were revered as “gardens, even temples”, lovingly maintained by local communities. Generations of Tamils gathered at these spots every year on Maaveerar Naal (Martyrs’ Day) to light oil lamps at dusk, lay flowers, and remember their fallen with prayer and song. This ritual helped knit the community together in shared grief and pride. By obliterating the very sites of these commemorations, the state is attempting to “reduce, eliminate and deny versions of history that diverge from the official narrative”, essentially telling Tamils that their pain and sacrifice do not merit public memory. It is an act that humiliates and subjugates a people who already feel marginalised. Preserving these landmarks, on the other hand, would acknowledge Tamil history as an integral part of Sri Lankan history – a crucial step toward restoring Tamil dignity and a more honest national narrative.

Right to Grieve and Heal:

Memorials and graveyards are, at their heart, about the living as much as the dead. They give survivors a place to mourn, to seek closure, and to ensure their loved ones’ names are not lost to time. As the student union in Jaffna said, “we have the right to mourn our loved ones who perished in the war”. Yet, by turning cemeteries into high-security military zones and bulldozing monuments, the authorities effectively “annul Tamils’ right to grieve” in public. This is devastating for families. Many Tamil mothers, fathers, wives, and husbands never received the bodies of their kin who died or disappeared in the war; for them, these sites were the only graves to weep over. “Bulldozing and obliterating these cemeteries not only deprives the kin of the dead a place to commune with their lost loved ones, but also displays a callous disregard for both the dead and the living,” observers note starkly. In contrast, safeguarding these places can be profoundly therapeutic for a war-torn society. It allows commemoration of all victims. It creates spaces where grief can be expressed collectively and peacefully – an essential component of post-conflict healing. Indeed, other nations have learned that remembering tragedies is necessary for reconciliation: after World War II, for example, the victorious Allies did not destroy German war cemeteries, understanding that honoring the dead is separate from endorsing the cause they fought for. Sri Lanka must embrace a similar wisdom. As a Sri Lankan commentary lamented, “it is a telling indictment of us as a nation that we do not have any memorials to the [Tamil] civilians who died in this war”. Preserving Tamil memorials would fill that void and signal empathy for the losses of all communities.

Historical Lessons for Future Generations:

The physical evidence of war, if preserved, can educate future Sri Lankans about the real cost of sectarian conflict. A destroyed tank, a bunker complex, or a field once soaked in blood each has a story that can warn against repeating such horrors. In Mullivaikkal today, little remains except survivors’ memories and a few rusting relics of battle – yet even these ghosts speak volumes. “Thousands died here… This will haunt me for the rest of my life,” said one Tamil villager at the Mullivaikkal beach, recalling the final massacre. By contrast, official plaques in the area make no mention of those thousands of civilians, spinning a tale only of heroic soldiers and defeated “terrorists”. If independent memorials are allowed to stand – if, say, a museum or preserved bunker in the Vanni told the story of the civilians trapped and shelled, alongside the combatants – it would provide a more complete history to all Sri Lankans. Such honesty is necessary to “ensure that we never again descend into that hellish abyss” of civil strife, as one frank editorial urged. In other words, preserving war heritage is not about glorifying one side or reopening old wounds; it is about learning from the past. A society confident enough to confront all aspects of its history – the victories and the atrocities alike – is less likely to repeat its mistakes.

International Obligations: Protecting Cultural Heritage and the Right to Memory

Beyond the moral imperative, Sri Lanka is bound by international norms and laws to safeguard cultural and historical sites – including those related to conflict. The wanton destruction of heritage is not only a domestic issue; it has drawn concern from global human rights organizations and violates treaties to which Sri Lanka is a party.

UNESCO Conventions:

Sri Lanka acceded to the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property, which affirms that “any damage to cultural property, irrespective of the people it belongs to, is damage to the cultural heritage of all humanity.” This principle applies universally – cultural heritage need not be ancient or grandiose to merit protection. A modest war memorial or cemetery can indeed constitute “cultural or spiritual heritage of [a] people,” especially for an ethnic minority that sees it as sacred. By demolishing Tamil monuments and archaeological sites in the war-torn areas, the government flouts the spirit of these conventions. The Hague Convention obliges states to guard and preserve cultural property both in war and in peace. Likewise, under customary international law, “extensive destruction… not justified by military necessity” is prohibited. It is hard to argue that smashing gravestones or statues years after the conflict ended serves any necessity – on the contrary, it appears punitive and spiteful. Sri Lanka’s leaders should remember how the world reacted when other groups destroyed cultural heritage (for example, the global outcry at the razing of historic sites in the Middle East by ISIS). Deliberate cultural erasure is seen as a grievous crime against human heritage. The international community today views the protection of such heritage as part and parcel of human rights and peace-building.

Human Rights and Memorialization:

The United Nations and international watchdogs have repeatedly spotlighted Sri Lanka’s suppression of Tamil memorial practices. The “denial of Tamils’ right to remember” has been raised in UN human rights sessions and reports, framing it as a barrier to reconciliation and justice. Freedom to mourn and memorialize is an element of the broader right to freedom of expression and cultural rights. Sri Lanka has pledged, under UN Human Rights Council resolutions, to foster reconciliation and guarantee non-recurrence of conflict. A key part of that process is truth-telling and memorialization of all sides’ suffering. By bulldozing one side’s graveyards and preventing memorial services (often through heavy surveillance, intimidation, and even arrest of peaceful mourners), the government violates these commitments. Leading human rights organizations have called on Sri Lanka to cease such repression. For instance, Human Rights Watch condemned the detention of Tamils simply for commemorating war dead, urging the government to respect their right to remembrance instead of branding it illegal. The presence of international figures – like the Secretary-General of Amnesty International – at Mullivaikkal anniversary events shows that the world is watching how Sri Lanka treats these memorial sites. It would be wise for the government to heed these voices rather than court further international censure. Adhering to cultural protection norms and allowing memorialization would improve Sri Lanka’s tarnished human rights image and fulfill obligations under international humanitarian law (which explicitly forbids hostile acts against cultural sites and monuments).

Lessons from Abroad:

Many post-conflict countries have found ways to preserve difficult heritage in accordance with international standards. German concentration camps from World War II stand today as somber museums. Cambodia maintains memorials at sites of Khmer Rouge atrocities. Bosnia has preserved mass grave sites and battle ruins with international support. These efforts are backed by UNESCO and other agencies precisely because they contribute to the global understanding of history and serve as warnings for humanity. Sri Lanka’s war was one of the major conflicts of the 20th–21st century; its memory deserves preservation, not obliteration. The war’s final phase in 2009, which saw an estimated 40,000–70,000 civilians killed, is recognized internationally as a bloodbath that demands accounting. If Sri Lanka truly wishes to turn the page, it must do so transparently – by marking where these tragedies happened and honoring the victims, not by pretending those events never occurred. As one Tamil leader said, “No orders can make those memories fade. We will observe the Mullivaikkal remembrance…” regardless. In other words, memory will survive despite suppression, but it is far better for the state to embrace an inclusive approach and protect the physical touchstones of that memory.

A Call to the Sri Lankan Government: Halt Destruction, Embrace Preservation

The onus lies foremost with the Sri Lankan government and authorities to change course. We urge the government to immediately halt any ongoing demolition or alteration of war-related historical sites in the North-East. This includes ceasing the defacement of monuments, stopping the construction of new structures on top of former LTTE cemeteries, and ending the practice of removing memorial installations under cover of darkness. Instead of erasing Tamil heritage, the State should be working to catalogue, restore, and protect these sites as part of Sri Lanka’s national heritage.

Recognize Tamil Heritage as National Heritage:

The first step is a shift in mindset – an understanding that Tamil war memorials and landmarks are not “enemy propaganda” but part of the rich tapestry of Sri Lankan history. The remnants of a conflict belong to the story of both sides. By preserving sites like bunkers and memorials, the government would signal that it values a pluralistic national identity, one that respects minority experiences. This does not mean celebrating a defeated insurgency; it means honoring the human lives involved and acknowledging a painful chapter of history. As analysts have pointed out, Sri Lanka’s current approach of showcasing only a “single victory narrative” while obliterating Tamil sites is a barrier to true unity. A more enlightened approach – seen in countries that have emerged from civil strife – is to create spaces of remembrance accessible to all communities. The government could, for example, partner with Tamil local authorities, historians, and international experts to establish a War Memorial Park or Museum in the Vanni that includes both the official military monuments and preserved LTTE-era relics, presented with context. This inclusive narrative would go far in building trust. As it stands, the stark absence of memorials for Tamil civilian victims was described as an indictment of the nation. Sri Lanka can correct that by officially recognizing and maintaining at least some key Tamil sites (such as the Mullivaikkal beach area or one of the largest cemeteries) as memorial sites for war victims.

Legal Protection and Accountability:

The Sri Lankan government should enforce, and if needed strengthen, laws that protect historic and cultural sites. The existing Antiquities Ordinance and other heritage laws, which are designed to prevent the willful destruction of sites of historical importance, must be applied fairly in the Tamil areas. If a century-old temple or colonial fort would be protected, so too should a significant war bunker or memorial that holds importance to a community’s history. In Parliamentary debates, even Tamil government MPs have called for the release of lands occupied by the military, noting specifically that building camps over a Thuyilum Illam is an injustice that must be undone. Those appeals should be heeded. Military installations built atop former cemeteries (such as at Kanakarayankulam and other sites) ought to be relocated, and the lands returned to civilian oversight – allowing families to rebury remains or mark the spot with a plaque. Additionally, any further acts of desecration must be investigated and perpetrators held accountable. The recurring pattern of “unidentified persons” vandalizing memorials under heavy military watch strains credulity; security forces in those areas must be instructed to actively safeguard memorial sites, not quietly enable their destruction. By enforcing law and order impartially in this way, the government would demonstrate its commitment to the rule of law and minority rights.

Reconciliation through Memory:

Most importantly, the government should view the preservation of these sites as a cornerstone of reconciliation. True peace is not just the absence of fighting, but the presence of justice and mutual respect. Every bulldozer sent to erase a Tamil graveyard deepens mistrust and alienation among the Tamil people. Conversely, a gesture to preserve and memorialize could build goodwill. Imagine government officials and Tamil community leaders jointly inaugurating a preserved memorial, or holding an annual official ceremony at Mullivaikkal alongside Tamils on May 18. Such moves would signal that the state acknowledges Tamil suffering and is ready to heal together. As things stand, “remembering the war is reserved for those who won” – a dynamic that perpetuates a victor’s peace and breeds resentment. It is in Sri Lanka’s national interest to correct this course. Instead of exhortations to “forget the past and move on” – which ring hollow when that past still haunts the living – the government should encourage a conscious remembering, so that “never again” becomes a shared pledge. Protecting war heritage sites offers a form of catharsis: a place to reflect on mistakes and mourn together. It aligns with President Ranil Wickremesinghe’s (or any current leader’s) stated aims to reconcile communities and uphold the rule of law. Indeed, listening to the demands of Northern citizens regarding their heritage would be a concrete confidence-building measure. When a group of Jaffna University academics and civic leaders appealed to the Department of Archaeology back in 2010 to stop the “further destruction of the heritage of Jaffna,” their plea fell on deaf ears. It is high time for those in power to finally lend an ear and act on these reasonable requests.

Empowering the Tamil Community: Demand Preservation and Engage the World

While the government holds the keys to policy, the Tamil community – both in Sri Lanka and the diaspora – has a pivotal role to play in saving these historic sites. Change has often come when citizens unite and raise their voices. The rebuilding of the Jaffna campus memorial in 2021, for example, was won through student activism, widespread protests, and international pressure. This momentum must continue and grow.

Local Advocacy and Vigilance:

Tamils in the North-East are encouraged to continue commemorating their loved ones peacefully and assertively, even in the face of intimidation. Each year since the war’s end, despite army surveillance and threats, Tamil families have still gathered – at graveyards, on beaches, at home – to light a lamp on May 18 or November 27. These acts of remembrance are acts of resistance against erasure. Community leaders, priests, and civil society groups should document any attempts to damage memorial sites and immediately publicize them. The vigilance of groups like the Mullivaikkal Remembrance Committee, which swiftly exposed the 2021 Mullaitivu vandalism, is crucial. By shining a light on these incidents, they make it harder for perpetrators to act with impunity. Legal avenues should also be pursued: Tamil political parties and human rights lawyers can file lawsuits or fundamental rights petitions in Sri Lankan courts to challenge the destruction of cemeteries and memorials. In fact, voices in the Tamil political sphere have long suggested that the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) and others “take legal action to stop such criminal acts” as bulldozing cemeteries. Though justice through the courts may be slow or uncertain, such filings put official notice on record and build pressure.

Diaspora and International Allies:

The global Eelam Tamil diaspora – millions strong – is an influential force that can champion this cause on the world stage. We urge diaspora organizations and activists to lobby foreign governments, the United Nations, and UNESCO about the ongoing cultural destruction in Sri Lanka. Already, we have seen diaspora communities mobilize: the demolition of the Jaffna University memorial sparked protests in Toronto, London, and Chennai, drawing international media attention. Countries like Canada (with its large Tamil population) have shown support by recognizing Tamil memorial days. Diaspora groups can push for resolutions or hearings in foreign parliaments condemning the destruction of war heritage in Sri Lanka. They can also fund and support documentation projects – such as creating digital archives, photo galleries, or virtual reality reconstructions of now-destroyed sites – to preserve memory in alternative ways. While nothing can replace the actual preservation of physical sites, having detailed records and evidence of those sites is invaluable in advocacy. International historians and archaeologists might be enlisted to assess sites in the North-East for designation as protected heritage. For example, pressure could be applied for UNESCO to recognize certain war sites under categories like “Memory of the World” or as part of intangible cultural heritage, given their significance to the Tamil people’s collective memory.

Unity and a Clear Message:

The Tamil community’s demands should be articulated clearly and reasonably to gain broader support. It is not about relitigating the war or promoting separatism; it is about human dignity and the universally recognized need to remember one’s dead. When Tamil representatives state, “No one can prohibit the people remembering those who died in the war. No orders can make those memories fade,” it resonates with any community that has suffered loss. The message is simple: “Let us remember. Let these places be.” Tamil civil society could formulate a comprehensive appeal or manifesto calling for the protection of all war memorial sites, which can be presented to the Sri Lankan government, as well as circulated globally. Bridging to other communities is also important – reaching out to Sinhala moderates and human rights advocates in the south of the island, explaining that preserving these sites is not a threat to national unity but rather an essential component of a healthy, pluralistic society. Gaining allies among the majority can reduce the perception that this is a “Tamil vs. government” issue and frame it correctly as a matter of cultural heritage and post-war recovery that concerns all Sri Lankans.

Finally, the Tamil community must remain steadfast but patient. Battles for memory can be long. Decades after World War II, previously suppressed stories and memorials eventually came to light in various countries. Persistence pays off. The existence of sites like Mullivaikal Muttram (a memorial built in Tamil Nadu, India, by relatives of the war dead) shows that Tamils will find ways to honor their history, even if exiled from their own land. But it should not have to come to that. The ultimate hope is that one day in Sri Lanka, all citizens can openly visit a well-tended memorial in Mullivaikkal or a preserved cemetery in Kilinochchi and say, “This was our tragedy, and we learned from it.” For that day to arrive, the struggle to protect these landmarks must continue with vigor.

Conclusion: Safeguarding History for a Shared Future

Time is running out. With each passing year, more of the physical record of the Sri Lankan civil war is being literally bulldozed away. If action is not taken now, future generations – Tamil, Sinhala, and others – will walk on a land cleansed of the landmarks that tell the tale of what transpired. Such a sanitised landscape might soothe certain political egos in the short term, but it will be a tremendous loss to the nation’s soul. A country that forgets or forcibly erases its past is doomed to remain traumatized by it.

Conversely, saving these war-related historical sites can contribute to lasting peace. Let a bunker stand as a silent reminder of the follies of war; let a cemetery remain as a testament to the high cost of conflict; let a monument speak of a people’s grief and resilience. The Sri Lankan government, by protecting these places, would demonstrate strength – the strength to confront truth and accommodate multiple narratives within its history. It would be adhering not only to international law but to a basic human decency: honoring the dead and the memories of those who survived. As one commentary noted, “the primary response to the war we endured should not be bulldozings and demolitions and exhortations to forget, but rather to ensure that we never again descend into that hellish abyss.” To do that, Sri Lanka must remember. Preserving the physical vestiges of the war is a crucial part of remembering rightly.

We call upon the Sri Lankan authorities to declare an immediate moratorium on the destruction of any war-related sites and to engage with local communities in marking and maintaining them. And we call upon the Tamil community to unite in this cause – to raise one voice demanding that history be kept alive, not buried. This is not just a Tamil issue or a Sri Lankan issue; it is a matter of safeguarding human heritage. Each bunker and memorial carries a story the world can learn from – of unimaginable suffering, of courage and loss, of the need for peace and justice.

Let these scarred landmarks of Tamil heritage stand as enduring lessons. Let future children see them and ask, “What happened here?” so that parents and teachers can recount the tale and say, “Never again.” In protecting these symbols of the past, Sri Lanka would be planting the seeds of a more honest and inclusive future. The urgency is real, and the appeal is heartfelt: Stop the destruction. Preserve these sites. Honor the memories enshrined in them. The conscience of the world, and the hope of reconciliation at home, demand nothing less.

Certainly! Here’s how you can include a Disclaimer, Editor’s Note, and Methodology section at the end of your article or publication, maintaining transparency and professionalism:

⚠️ Disclaimer

This article and accompanying materials are intended for informational and advocacy purposes only. The content reflects the concerns and perspectives of communities affected by the Sri Lankan civil war and is compiled from publicly available reports, survivor testimony, and historical records. While every effort has been made to ensure factual accuracy and cultural sensitivity, readers are encouraged to consult additional sources when forming opinions or pursuing academic research. The organizations named in this publication, including ABC Tamil Oli (ECOSOC), do not endorse violence or the glorification of armed groups; rather, this work advocates for the preservation of historical memory and human rights. References to past events and individuals are presented within a historical context and should not be interpreted as political endorsements or legal claims.

📝 Editor’s Note

We believe that memory is a vital foundation for justice and reconciliation. This article was produced to bring awareness to the ongoing loss of war-related heritage sites in Sri Lanka’s Northern and Eastern provinces. Our editorial team acknowledges the pain and complexity surrounding these topics and has approached them with empathy, integrity, and a commitment to historical preservation. We recognize that differing narratives exist and encourage respectful dialogue rooted in truth, evidence, and human dignity. If you believe any part of this work requires correction, expansion, or clarification, we welcome constructive feedback.

🔍 Methodology

The content was developed using a multi-source research approach combining:

Primary accounts from survivors, community leaders, and students involved in remembrance efforts
Historical records and verified news reports documenting destruction and restoration of war monuments from 1981–2025
Legal texts and international conventions, including the 1954 Hague Convention and UN human rights resolutions related to cultural heritage
Academic analysis and journalistic investigations into memory politics, post-war reconciliation, and the treatment of Tamil monuments
Visual descriptions and site references based on archival images, satellite data, and local testimonies to ensure geographical and cultural accuracy

Content generation was supported by AI-assisted synthesis through Microsoft Copilot, with oversight and editing provided by advocacy representatives from ABC Tamil Oli (ECOSOC), Brampton, Canada.

In solidarity,

Wimal Navaratnam

Human Rights Advocate | ABC Tamil Oli (ECOSOC)

Email: tamilolicanada@gmail.com

Search This Blog