Our War Heroes Are Not Criminals, Thugs, or Killers — They Are Defenders of Sri Lanka

“In Geneva, they speak of justice. But here in Sri Lanka, we remember survival—and we defend those who gave their lives so our nation could stand.” –Palitha Ariyarathna

In Geneva, they speak of justice. But in Sri Lanka, we remember survival. Our soldiers—those who stood against the most brutal insurgency in South Asia—are now branded by foreign institutions as war criminals, thugs, and violators of human rights. This is not accountability. This is defamation. And it comes not from truth, but from selective memory and geopolitical bias. While the United Nations Human Rights Council continues to pursue the so-called Sri Lanka Accountability Project (SLAP), a new study published in The Lancet Global Health reveals a far greater crime: economic sanctions imposed by the United States and European Union have killed over 38 million people since 1970. These are not battlefield deaths. These are children who starved, elders who died without medicine, and families destroyed by economic collapse. Where is Geneva’s courtroom for that? Where is the global outcry for those innocent lives lost due to economic warfare? Instead, the focus remains on Sri Lanka—on the very men and women who risked their lives to protect civilians from suicide bombings, forced child recruitment, and ethnic cleansing. They call our defenders “killers.” They call our protectors “criminals.” But we know the truth.

Sri Lanka’s war ended in 2009. The LTTE—a group internationally recognized as a terrorist organization—was defeated. The final stages of the war were tragic, yes. But they were also decisive. The alternative was endless suicide bombings, child soldiers, and ethnic cleansing. Our forces fought not for conquest, but for peace. And they did not fight alone. They moved forward with the merit of a mother’s hope, the courage of youth, and the hope of a nation that refused to be torn apart. Let us speak clearly and without apology. The Sri Lanka Army held the front lines, liberated villages, and protected civilians from terror. The Sri Lanka Navy secured our maritime borders, intercepted arms shipments, and prevented coastal infiltration. The Sri Lanka Air Force provided strategic support, surveillance, and humanitarian airlifts under fire. The Sri Lanka Police, often overlooked, maintained civil order, investigated atrocities, and protected urban centers from sabotage. These are not criminals. These are guardians. Their uniforms carry the weight of sacrifice, not shame.

In the interest of historical clarity and national dignity, it is essential that we present the truth in full. The following comparison is not rhetoric—it is a record. It reflects decades of suffering, sacrifice, and survival. It shows what Sri Lanka endured under the LTTE, and how our armed forces responded with discipline, duty, and humanity. The LTTE, from 1983 to 2009, carried out over 300 documented attacks on civilians, religious sites, and public infrastructure. They pioneered suicide terrorism, forcibly recruited children, assassinated national leaders, and held entire communities hostage. Their actions were condemned globally, yet today, some voices attempt to rewrite history—portraying the Sri Lankan military as aggressors and the LTTE as victims. This distortion must be corrected. Our Army, Navy, Air Force, and Police did not target civilians. They protected them. They did not use suicide bombers. They rescued children from suicide squads. They did not desecrate temples. They defended them. They did not assassinate leaders. They prevented further killings. They did not divide the country. They restored peace.

Let us compare, point by point:

This is the truth. It is not negotiable. It is not subject to revision by foreign tribunals or politically motivated reports. It is the lived experience of a nation that stood firm against terror and emerged with dignity.

In his recent Police Day address, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake openly acknowledged that respect toward the Sri Lanka Police has eroded in the public eye. This is not a minor concern—it is a national crisis. The President’s words reflect a deeper truth: that the moral authority of our law enforcement institutions is being systematically dismantled. But this erosion is not limited to the Police. It is part of a broader, coordinated mission—one that targets the entire tri-forces of Sri Lanka. Through cinematic campaigns, dramatic articles, and social media manipulation, a narrative is being spread that defames our Army, Navy, Air Force, and Police. This is not domestic criticism—it is an international operation. Travel bans are imposed. Geneva cases are filed. Fake human rights reports are circulated. And behind much of this machinery stands a foreign-funded Tamil diaspora network, whose interest is not reconciliation, but separatism.

These campaigns do not seek justice—they seek to rewrite history, to vilify our defenders, and to weaken the sovereignty of the Sri Lankan state. They aim to dismantle the monopoly of our national institutions, especially those rooted in the protection of the Buddha Sasana and the constitutional unity of the land. Let us remember that King Dutugemunu did not fight for personal glory—he fought to protect the sustainability of the Buddha Sasana. Our tri-forces have done the same. They did not fight for power—they fought to protect all communities, including minorities, in alignment with the Constitution of Sri Lanka. No foreign envoy, no dollar-pumped activist, and no cinematic revisionist has the moral right to visit this land and promote separatism under the guise of human rights. Because in the longer run, what they seek is not peace—but the demise of Buddhism, the fragmentation of Sri Lanka, and the silencing of those who stood for truth.

In addition to the foreign-funded campaigns and cinematic defamation, we must also confront the internal erosion of respect—driven by certain leftist political movements, NGOs, and so-called human rights activists who follow foreign doctrines without understanding the soul of this land. These groups repeatedly claim that militarisation must stop, that the presence of our armed forces is a threat to democracy. But if we are truly patriotic leaders in this country, our actions must align with our words. It is not enough to speak of sovereignty while dismantling the very institutions that protect it. The recent Aragalaya movement, while born out of economic frustration, was hijacked by dollar-backed propaganda networks that deliberately targeted the public image of the military. What began as a protest became a campaign to humiliate the tri-forces, to strip away the honour of those who stood for national unity. This was not accidental—it was orchestrated. The Kumantharanaya, funded and amplified through social media and international platforms, aimed to collapse the moral standing of our defenders in the eyes of the youth. They did not just attack the economy—they attacked the guardians of the state. And behind this effort was a coordinated push to replace Sri Lankan constitutional values with foreign ideologies, to weaken the Buddha Sasana, and to fragment the nation. We must not allow this. We must not allow the doctrine of other lands to dictate the future of our own. Our tri-forces are not symbols of oppression—they are symbols of protection. They have defended all communities, upheld the Constitution, and preserved the spiritual and cultural heritage of this island. If we abandon them, we abandon ourselves.

Beyond ideological defamation, there exists a quieter but equally devastating campaign one that targets the very survival of the Sinhalese people through demographic suppression.

“As Colonel Asoka Alles observed, between 1960 and 2020, over 11 million birth control operations were conducted in Sri Lanka—primarily targeting the Sinhalese population. This was not a natural demographic shift, but a deliberate intervention with long-term cultural consequences. In 2002, the Sinhalese were officially highlighted among the world’s vanishing nations—a warning not just of demographic decline, but of cultural erasure. If such suppression is carried out systematically and silently, it constitutes a form of genocide, violating international law and the moral conscience of humanity. What happened to the Sinhala nation was not accidental. It was engineered. And it must be acknowledged.”

In recent months, there has been growing concern among citizens, clergy, and veterans that the government is not doing enough to protect the dignity of our war heroes. While commemorations like the 16th War Heroes’ Memorial Ceremony offered symbolic tribute, many feel that policy-level protection remains weak and inconsistent. The President’s speech at the memorial rightly called for unity, peace, and reconciliation. He acknowledged the pain of families across all communities and emphasized the need to reject division. These are noble words. But remembrance must be matched by action. Across the country, many voices have raised alarm over what they describe as the increasing “harassment” of war heroes under recent administrative decisions. There is growing concern that certain actions appear to appease external actors and anti-military groups, while neglecting the sacrifices made by our armed forces.

There are troubling signs: reduced visibility of national commemorations, lack of legal safeguards for veterans facing international accusations, tolerance of events that glorify terrorism both locally and abroad, and silence in the face of defamation campaigns targeting military personnel. These gaps must be addressed—not tomorrow, but today.

“Don’t worry sir, I will fight till I die.” – Capt. Saliya Aladeniya Let this not be a forgotten echo. Let it be a national promise. Our defenders gave everything. Now it is our turn to defend their dignity.

We call upon the Presidency and Cabinet to establish a National Protection Framework for war heroes, ensuring legal, social, and diplomatic support. We urge the government to reaffirm Sri Lanka’s sovereign right to defend its own soldiers, especially against politically motivated international tribunals. We ask that commemoration be not just ceremonial, but embedded in policy, education, and public messaging. And we insist that any form of ideological appeasement that undermines the legacy of those who defended this nation be rejected outright. Our war heroes are not just names on a wall. They are living symbols of sacrifice. They deserve more than speeches. They deserve protection, respect, and truth.

This is not just a rebuttal. It is a declaration of truth. A defense of dignity. A tribute to those who gave everything so that Sri Lanka could stand. Let us not allow our war heroes to be punished while the architects of mass suffering are celebrated. Let us not allow Geneva to become a courtroom for the weak and a sanctuary for the powerful. Justice must be universal. Not selective. Not political. Our defenders stood between terror and peace. They deserve our gratitude—not defamation

By Palitha Ariyarathna

This article is lovingly dedicated to my mother, who passed away two years ago today. Her strength, wisdom, and quiet courage continue to guide my voice and my purpose. In defending the dignity of our war heroes, I honour the values she lived by—truth, compassion, and unwavering devotion to our motherland.