From Politicians to Artists: The Continuing Voice of a People's Struggle

After the end of colonial rule, political institutions emerged in our country, and our politicians became the voice of a people facing oppression. They fought to communicate our experiences, our grievances, and our demands through political means. When those voices were ignored and peaceful political efforts failed to bring justice, the struggle evolved into an armed resistance. The armed struggle became a way of forcing the world to acknowledge a reality that many preferred to ignore.

When the armed struggle was silenced, however, the underlying issues did not disappear. A new responsibility emerged — one that fell upon the shoulders of artists, writers, filmmakers, musicians, and storytellers.

Today, many Eelam Tamils live across the world as refugees and members of the diaspora. The very reason many of us were granted asylum, protection, and a new life abroad was because of the political realities and oppression experienced by our people. Yet, over time, many have drifted away from those truths. In many ways, we have become alienated from our own experiences, our history, and the collective memory that shaped our journey.

Alienation is not merely a political condition; it is also a psychological one. When people become disconnected from their own lived experiences, they become disconnected from the source of their creativity. Art does not emerge from emptiness. It emerges from memory, identity, struggle, loss, hope, and the search for meaning.

The role of artists is not to continue a military struggle. Their responsibility is something different but equally important: to tell stories. To preserve memory. To give voice to experiences that are often ignored or forgotten. Through cinema, literature, music, painting, photography, and other forms of expression, artists can communicate the realities of a people whose political aspirations remain unresolved.

At the heart of this issue lies a fundamental question of political power. A people who lack meaningful political power over their own lives often find themselves alienated from their identity, culture, and lived experiences. When a community cannot determine its own future, its stories are often rewritten by others. Art becomes a way of reclaiming those stories.

For diaspora artists, this responsibility carries particular significance. Living far from the homeland should not mean becoming disconnected from the experiences that shaped our existence. The challenge is not simply to remember the past, but to transform those memories into meaningful cultural expression that speaks to future generations.

The era of armed struggle may have ended, but the struggle for memory, identity, dignity, and political recognition continues. Today, artists have the opportunity to carry forward what politicians once argued and what fighters once defended: the right of a people to tell their own story, define their own identity, and shape their own future.

The age of weapons may have passed. The age of storytelling has not.