Thirty years have passed since the fall of the Mullaitivu garrison in 1996, one of the darkest chapters in Sri Lanka’s military history. The destruction of the isolated military base by the LTTE claimed the lives of nearly 1500 servicemen and marked the first time the Tigers succeeded in overrunning and capturing a major military installation. It remains a defining moment not only because of the scale of the defeat, but because of the unanswered questions that continue to haunt the living three decades later.
More than 1,400 personnel, comprising members of the Sri Lankan Army, Navy, Police and civilian administrative staff, were stationed at Mullaitivu when the LTTE launched its meticulously planned assault. Despite desperate resistance, the garrison was overwhelmed within days. A relief operation mounted by some of the country’s finest fighting formations, including the Special Forces and Commando Regiment, fought courageously through intense enemy resistance in an attempt to rescue the besieged garrison.
Among those who displayed extraordinary courage was Colonel Fuzly Laphir, whose leadership and gallantry have become part of the proud tradition of the Sri Lankan Army. Together with countless officers and soldiers who risked, and in many cases sacrificed, their lives in the rescue effort, Colonel Laphir embodied the highest ideals of military service of duty, courage and selfless commitment to comrades under fire. Although the mission was ultimately unsuccessful, the heroism of those who fought to reach Mullaitivu deserves to be remembered alongside the sacrifice of those trapped inside the garrison.
In the aftermath of the battle, the Government of the day officially acknowledged only a fraction of the deaths. Nearly 1,200 military personnel were categorised as Missing in Action (MIA). Evidence subsequently emerged that many had surrendered before being summarily executed by the LTTE, constituting a grave violation of international humanitarian law and an undeniable war crime. Others simply disappeared, leaving their families in agonising uncertainty.
The decision to classify so many personnel as MIA rather than dead reflected more than administrative caution. It represented a profound failure of accountability. Families were denied certainty, proper recognition of their loved ones’ sacrifice, and the opportunity to grieve with dignity. Three decades later, many still do not know where their sons, husbands or fathers lie.
There are many demands, quite rightly, to devote attention to allegations of enforced disappearances committed by state actors during the conflict. Those cases deserve thorough investigation and justice. However, justice cannot be selective. The disappearance and execution of surrendered military personnel under LTTE custody cannot be relegated to a forgotten footnote simply because the perpetrators were a non-state armed group. The principle of accountability must apply equally to every victim.
This anniversary should therefore serve as a reminder of the continuing importance of the Office on Missing Persons. Its mandate extends to all victims of Sri Lanka’s conflicts, irrespective of who caused their disappearance. Even where survivors cannot be found, every effort must be made to locate remains, establish identities through modern forensic methods, and provide families with the dignity of a proper burial and official recognition.
Our recent history has been scarred by war, insurrection and political violence, leaving tens of thousands missing across every community. Reconciliation cannot be built upon selective memory or competing narratives of suffering. It requires an unwavering commitment to truth, compassion and equal justice.
Thirty years after the Mullaitivu battle, honouring the fallen demands confronting uncomfortable truths, acknowledging every victim, and ensuring that no family, whether civilian or military, is left waiting indefinitely for answers. Only when the missing are accounted for, and every family is afforded dignity and closure, can Sri Lanka truly claim to have learned the lessons of its painful past.