On the 8th of February, Cambridge University Tamil Society (CUTS) hosted a panel discussion sharing experiences of the Sri Lankan Civil War, recounting memories from pre-1983 to 2009. Left with the scars, many victims have been forced to reconcile with their past and make a new life. However, students in CUTS, many of whose parents were direct victims, are keen to use their community to raise awareness and seek recognition and accountability. With such emotion and history to navigate, I interviewed attendees to discuss the event’s context and explore why remembrance is as important as the society’s other, more social activities.

“Because there is so much trauma, it’s difficult for parents to tell their children”

“Outside of the [Tamil] community, I guess not many people know about this,” suggests one of the event organisers. “People here would just think it’s another distant conflict with not much geopolitical impact.” During the 25 years of war, it was estimated that at least 100,000 people were killed, with 800,000 people displaced, largely Tamil civilians. The widespread rape, murder and looting of Tamil neighbourhoods in Sri Lanka during the civil war has been likened by Tamil journalists to the ongoing violence in Gaza. Uma Kumaran MP, the first British Member of Parliament of Eelam Tamil heritage, has criticised the Sri Lankan government’s lack of meaningful accountability. I asked the event organiser how the lack of coverage on the Tamil experience has influenced this generation. “I feel like the generation above me, most of them would know about it since they lived through it. But the younger generation, because there is so much trauma, it’s difficult for parents to tell their children.”

The remembrance event aimed to explain why the civil war broke out, discussing both the history and its societal impact. For many, the event was their first exposure to the stories of the war.

After introductory talks discussing the history and context of the conflict, one panellist starkly depicted the frenzy of a mass killing in her neighbourhood, describing with vividness the stench and taste of blood that stuffed the air, concluding that: “it was genocide, not a civil war”.

Another panellist, a volunteer for Médecins Sans Frontières, describes the difficult choices he had to make between saving people’s lives and protecting the hospital from overcapacity. A fourth year medic describes the moment: “Listening to Dr Satha’s experience, so different from my own, was deeply humbling. While I’ve been able to continue my training without interruption, he was forced to step away from the life he knew, treating devastating injuries within his own community as a volunteer. It made me realise the extraordinary courage it takes to put everything on hold, to sacrifice your own path in order to help others in their most desperate moments.”

“What feels like fiction to us was the lived reality for many Tamils during the civil war”

Unfortunately, every survivor had a similar story, either directly or through family and friends. I spoke to one attendee’s dad, who confided his experience. “As a child, in 1981, during the school holidays, I travelled with my father in a train heading North, which is where my hometown is. Then at Anuradhapura railway station, a Sinhalese mob entered the train with weapons, attacking and killing anyone who didn’t speak Sinhala.” He described how the passengers were jumping out of the train and that his father threw him to a friend who had jumped out to escape. When he was next reunited with his father, he was carried to safety through the forest at night to avoid being found. What feels like fiction to us was the lived reality for many Tamils during the civil war. But why does it matter now?

To answer this, we can turn to the science behind trauma. Trauma is associated with many consequences. Holocaust survivors report PTSD, but also increased risk of anxiety, late-onset cancers, and OCD. While the exact mechanism is still being studied, it’s reasoned that the body’s sustained stress response alters immune and endocrine function. Furthermore, the trauma is frequently correlated with anxiety, hoarding and workaholism. So, all in all, the survivors’ lives will be fundamentally different after trauma. With no acknowledgement of this suffering, it’s hard to create compassion for survivors who display negative traits that make them less employable or socially desirable.

“So many Tamil students are unaware of their history and are only discovering it now through social media”

There is also evidence that this passes down across generations. Native Americans disproportionately report addictions, which is linked to their historical trauma, among other factors. Addictions are often attempts to aid with the regulation of feelings of helplessness, pain and grief – effects which could be passed down the generations.

If the healing process doesn’t begin, there will be physical and economic damage. This then encourages racist rhetoric, which sees dysfunction without an understanding of the source.

So the remembrance event serves as a practical route to start discussions and educate the next generation about the tragedies that befell Tamil civilians. However, it’s important to caveat it with the complexity of a civil war. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), a militant organisation that fought for an Independent Tamil state, was designated by many countries as an international terrorist organisation, also committing war crimes which have affected many Sri Lankans. Due to the sensitivity around this, many Tamil parents worry that encouraging the next generation to be politically active could threaten their careers. They may also avoid the topic due to their own unresolved trauma, despite otherwise supporting political action.

This sentiment was mirrored by student voices. “[Our parents] would say ‘it’s a new life here’ and that ‘we don’t need to talk about it.’” So many Tamil students are unaware of their history and are only discovering it now through social media. However, with multiple reported occurrences of Sinhala violence against Tamils, inadequately investigated or prosecuted by the government – the largest being in Mullivaikal, where the UN estimates at least 40,000 civilians were trapped, bombed and killed by the Sri Lankan armed forces – can these stories be left untold forever?

The remembrance event is just one part of a wider Tamil youth movement that seeks to nucleate quiet resistance against colonialist nationalism and inequality. “We aim to raise awareness while creating a space where people can learn without judgment and better understand what it means to be Tamil.”

On the 27th of February, the Tamil Society hosted its annual ball, Vaanavil. There, they hosted performances of a traditional Tamil dance, called Kuthu, as well as Bharatnatyam (Indian Classical Dance) and Mohiniyattam (a classical dance from Kerala, India). According to the society, the mix of both a celebration of culture and the sombre remembrance of history cements Tamil identity.

One Tamil student concludes: “This history, which many of us have grown up hearing in fragments, lives within us. I am proud and grateful to be Tamil, especially knowing the hard work my family has put in to allow me to be where I am today. Our history deserves to be heard, not brushed aside, especially as its echoes can still be seen in ongoing conflicts.”