A Case Study from Sri Lanka
War destroys the social and economic fabric of nations. The psychological harm to children and adults as a result of war trauma is likely to impact a few generations into the future. (For children living with war, every day threats lead to trauma) The consequences of war, besides death, include endemic poverty, malnutrition, disability, economic/ social decline and psychosocial illness. While the world often measures the cost of war in terms of lives lost and infrastructure destroyed, the more profound and long-lasting impact is on mental health.
The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that, in conflict-affected areas at least 10% of individuals experience severe mental health issues, while another 10% suffer from behavioral difficulties that would hinder an individual’s daily functioning. These figures only hint at the deeper, widespread emotional suffering that war creates. Most affected individuals suffer from depression, anxiety and psychosomatic problems such as insomnia (Life After War: Post-conflict Stressors in Northern Sri-Lanka).The impacts are not only personal—they are structural as well.
In Sri Lanka, decades of internal conflict have left deep psychological wounds with its citizens, many of which to this day remain untreated.
Unless these invisible scars are addressed through serious national efforts, true socio-economic development is likely to remain elusive.
A Legacy of Conflict and Displacement
Since achieving independence in 1948, Sri Lanka experienced three major armed conflicts that effectively and severely impacted the whole nation. Sri Lanka’s modern history is marked by major internal conflicts: The Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) uprisings in the 1970s and 1980s, and the prolonged civil war between the Sri Lankan government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) from 1983 to 2009, each of which have collectively caused over 160,000 deaths and displaced countless others.
This article focuses particularly on women from the Northern and Eastern provinces, where the brunt of three decades of ethnic civil war was severely felt. Whilst the majority population of Sri Lanka were not affected by the events of this war, a considerable number of individuals and families were displaced from their homes and incurred losses to their property and valuables in the midst of the protracted war from 1983-2009. At the end, almost two decades since the end of this civil conflict, vital issues on reconciliation and re-integration remain unresolved.
Forgotten Wounds
Many of the women from the North and East of Sri Lanka, suffered not only from the violence of war but also from its aftermath: displacement, widowhood, social exclusion, poverty and long-term psychological distress. Without targeted efforts to help the women and their communities reintegrate and heal, I believe that economic initiatives will falter, social structures will remain fractured and the cycle of trauma is likely to continue for generations.
A study conducted in the conflict-affected areas during 2004–2005 revealed disturbing patterns: early marriage and pregnancies, increased maternal mortality, lack of access to reproductive health services, and a high prevalence of gender-based violence (Reproductive health concerns in six conflict-affected areas of Sri Lanka). These factors compounded the mental distress already caused by the war.
Former female LTTE combatants often face a dual stigma—they are viewed as both perpetrators and victims. Many were coerced into joining the LTTE cadres, coerced and controlled during the war or pressured into roles for which they were not emotionally prepared.
After the conflict, when the women returned to their communities, they were looked at with suspicion and at times hostility. Their children, too, have inherited this societal rejection, often growing up without proper identity documents, healthcare or education.
It is rather unfortunate that the women’s own communities have ostracized them or made them feel as if they are traitors. Though these days, we see young Tamil women engaging with feminism, activism and diaspora solidarity, we fail to see their challenges in navigating inherited trauma. Speaking out could be dangerous for most women and many women carry unspoken trauma, suffering in silence to avoid further persecution or ostracism. These traumas have affected their trust in the government, military and even in the Non-governmental (NGO) institutions who have pledged to help them. Women often feel alienated from institutions that were established or meant to protect them.
The Challenge of Reintegration
Social workers and NGO leaders report a deep mistrust among these communities toward outsiders, including humanitarian agencies and government representatives.
This mistrust is not baseless; insensitive approaches and a lack of cultural awareness have often re-traumatized rather than helped survivors. Healing is not just about therapy—it’s about restoring dignity, agency and inclusion.
Post-war, many former female combatants struggled to return to civilian life. Some were abandoned by their husbands and families, while others dealt with the aftermath of their experiences within the LTTE.
The legacy of forced or arranged marriages, combined with the broader experiences of militarization and conflict, continues to impact these women’s lives.
One former female LTTE fighter, whom I met during my travels, runs a small tea shop in the Eastern part of the country. Her daily life routine reflects how trauma continues to shape her behavior, livelihood opportunities and familial roles. Despite receiving some material support towards earning a livelihood (from various Non-governmental Organizations (NGOs)), her home and workplace appeared to be in a state of disarray and there seemed to be a certain instability in the way she expressed her emotions. Her past physical injuries as a frontline combatant followed by an arranged (perhaps coerced) marriage to another ex-combatant are deep unhealed wounds which have led her to be cautious and vigilant of those who may come to offer a support system to her. At the time of war, her marriage was arranged by the LTTE after she sustained two combat injuries and was no longer beneficial to the LTTE as a fighter. Her story, while particular to her, reflects a typical example of displacement and the associated distress that forms in its wake: a girl from the north was married off to a man from the east, whose culture is different to that of her upbringing. (Although the North and East of Sri Lanka have a predominant Tamil population, they are culturally different from each other as well as from the rest of the country.)
Her husband, who deserted her after the birth of their two children, may have suffered his own traumas, which in return may have crippled his function as a householder with a normal family life providing emotional support to his family. What was his story, we may not know, what we see is its remnants. Left to care of their mother, their children mirror the same emotional disarray; they too are socially shy and unable to have a conversation. Thus, demonstrating for me, once again, how trauma insidiously passes from one generation to another; and can eventually become a societal burden if left unaddressed.
It is no surprise that the women who have come out of the war and have become mothers, whether they are ex-combatant or ordinary civilians, did not have the tools to raise and support their children and this in turn affects the economic and social development of a society.
It is also noteworthy to mention that some ex-LTTE female combatants also struggle with their post-war identities. Once seen as freedom fighters or revolutionaries, many now live under surveillance or social suspicion, thus exacerbating their experiences of social exclusion.
Children of War: A Lost Generation?
The children of LTTE members, especially those born during or just after the conflict, grew up in a world shaped by violence, confusion, poverty and loss. Many were raised by single mothers living with trauma, in refugee camps or temporary settlements with limited access to basic needs such as health care, education, safety or communal support. The instability and neglect have left the children vulnerable to PTSD, identity confusions, trust related issues, anxiety, and depression. Life in camps, coupled with the uncertainty of the future, has lasting effects on children’s emotional well-being, which is likely to carry over to the next few generations.
Children born to LTTE combatants are also affected by the stigma surrounding their parents’ involvement in the group. They often face social ostracization, which in turn contributes to confusion around their identity and loyalties.
Though some ex LTTE combatant’s children were sent to rehabilitation centers or homes for displaced persons, where they may have received care, the process of reintegration into society has been slow and challenging.
Healing Through Culture: A Path Forward
Innovative, community-based approaches have offered hope. Theatre, dance and music have emerged as powerful tools of healing within and between communities. The Centre for Performing Arts (CPA) in Jaffna and the Active Theater Movement (ATM) are two such groups who employ the performing arts to foster reconciliation between communities; and to process the grief, violence and loss during the conflict. While the Center for Performing Arts focuses on art as a method of conflict resolution, promoting co-existence and cooperation between people from different ethnic and religious backgrounds, the Active Theater Movement has helped youth process grief by encouraging them to share their stories on stage.
The groups use embodied aspects of theatre, drumming and dance, reminiscent of indigenous healing rituals, to give deep seated trauma a medium of expression and thereby the possibility of healing. Efforts by these organizations along with the support of humanitarian organizations have assisted many women and their children to show remarkable improvement with their mental health. Over time, some of these have managed to find educational and career opportunities or to become active advocates for the rights of their communities and contribute to the rebuilding efforts in the Tamil-majority regions of Sri Lanka.
These communal healing methods are not only culturally appropriate—they are scalable, inclusive and deeply transformative. These methods have offered a bridge between mental health and community development.
Moving Beyond Sympathy to Structural Change
Post-conflict policies in Sri Lanka have focused heavily on reconstruction and security, but insufficient attention has been given to psychosocial recovery.
Sri Lankan Government’s policies should recognise and work towards the integration of war-affected women and their children, from the north and east.
Even after 16 years since the war’s end, over 100,000 Sri Lankan refugees still live in camps in Tamil Nadu, India, many without proper identification or with a means to return. The country’s leaders are insensitive to the issues of those who were displaced.
While the war lasted for three decades; the issues have remained unresolved for the next a two decades! That’s an entire lifetime within a refugee camp.
During my visit to an ex-combatant’s village, I was struck by the insensitivity of a senior journalist from the South of the island, who was interested in showing off his connections with former regimes or the LTTE. The journalist who claims to have been trained by Reuters, showed photographs of him posing with former LTTE leaders to a female ex combatant. Her emotional response for this unexpected recall from her old memories was immediate—she froze. Such moments reveal the disconnection, lack of empathy and understanding between policymakers, media professionals and the lived realities of those affected by war. Policy makers and the most citizens from other parts of the country lack true compassion or empathy towards those who were at the brunt of war and silently suffering without a voice.
There is an estimated two million people in Sri Lanka who were directly or indirectly affected by the war in the north and the east of Sri Lanka. More than half of them are women. If their trauma is not acknowledged and addressed, if their stories are not heard, if their mental well-being is not prioritized—then Sri Lanka’s future along with its economic ambitions will remain a dream deferred. Collectively we need to promote healing and acknowledge the suffering. Also, within the country, the Eastern Province remains under-supported compared to the Northern Province. This disparity should also be addressed if national unity and progress are to be more than political slogans.
A National Call for Healing and Progress
To move forward as a nation, Sri Lanka must embed healing from war trauma and mental health support into its development agenda. This means:
- Implementing large-scale awareness campaigns about war trauma and its intergenerational effects
- Creating safe spaces for women and former combatants to share, heal and contribute
- Investing in arts and community programs that foster integration and psychosocial resilience
- Ensuring equal support across the two provinces, especially the under-served Eastern Province
- Training officials and media professionals in trauma-sensitive engagement and in racial, gender sensitivity
- Acknowledging the rights of the refugees in India wherever possible
- North – South integrating activity creating empathy towards the people of the war affected areas
- Developing cultural / racial, social sensitivity across government bodies.
- Economic policies should be accompanied by emotional repair.
Conclusion: No Development without Healing
Healing is not a soft issue; it is the foundation upon which everything else stands. Mental health is directly linked to productivity, education, civic engagement and innovation. Without addressing the lingering trauma of war, especially among women and children in the North and East, Sri Lanka will never unlock its full potential.
Sri Lanka should not make the mistake of separating “development” from “well-being.” They are two sides of the same coin. A peaceful, prosperous Sri Lanka begins with a healed nation.
[The viewpoints I share in this article are grounded in my personal experience and informed observation as part of an evaluation with a local foundation that recognized female entrepreneurs across Sri Lanka. Accompanying a video crew, I helped document the stories of extraordinary women—some of whom were former LTTE combatants, while others were survivors of the long war in the North and East.]
Wanda Kotalawala
My name is Wanda. I come from a proud lineage. On my paternal side, I inherit the genes of strong, independent women who, at their time were bold, spoke their minds and chose to live separated from husbands who were unsuitable for them. My maternal upbringing was deeply influenced by Buddhism, while my paternal side embraced a mix of Christianity and Buddhism. From an anthropological perspective, my ancestry dates back 300–400 years to present-day Tamil Nadu, where my clan originated from the royal seat of Madurai, part of the Pandyan dynasty.
I speak only two languages, English and my native Sinhala. I often like to travel to India, exploring sacred sites and to immerse myself in their rich history. When people meet me as a female solo traveler,they express amazement about how I manage to navigate my journeys without any knowledge of the local languages. Some call me brave, some look at me in wonder. For me, this is the way I am; it bears no specialty. Though some of my friends consider me as a spiritual traveler, I consider myself as an “experiencer through travel”. Here you will find my scared "little" story, one I hope will inspire and empower readers to embark on their own journeys of self-discovery and reclaim their mojo.