By Tisaranee Gunasekara
“Tackling a social calamity is not like fighting a war… Rather than muzzling the media and threatening dissenters with punitive measures (and remaining politically unchallenged), governance can be greatly helped by informed public discussion” – Amartya Sen (Listening as Governance)
A year has gone by since the Easter Sunday massacre in Sri Lanka. Innocent blood was shed by a group of radicalised Lankan Muslims pledging allegiance to the IS. That barbaric bombing – and its fear-filled aftermath – shaped the year that followed. Arguably its most significant progeny was the landslide presidential victory of Gotabaya Rajapaksa.
The first anniversary of the massacre was commemorated in the midst of another calamity, a pandemic that has caused more deaths globally than any terrorist attack. The nature of the pandemic should have caused some papering over of the fissures in Lankan polity and society; after all, viruses are no respecters of ethno-religious or political affiliations. Yet the opposite has happened.
The pandemic, instead of uniting Lankans against a common threat, has heightened our divisions. The narrative of the pandemic has become interwoven with pre-existing narratives of ethno-religious fractions and enmities, creating a seamless whole of us vs. them, of innocent victims being targeted by evil carriers of the virus.
This divisive misrepresentation of a common and natural threat as ethno-religiously motivated enemy action is no accident. It is the result of a conscious effort by the ruling party to use the pandemic to advance its authoritarian political agenda via a parliamentary election that is fatally infected with the anti-democratic virus.



















