Signal from a Lankan island

WHILE India focused its eyes northwards, watching Prime Minister Narendra Modi demonstrate brotherly affection towards Presidents Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin for the cameras at Tianjin in China, India’s southern neighbour sent a quiet message to both New Delhi and Tamil Nadu.

Sri Lankan President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, on his fourth visit to Jaffna in the Northern Province within a year — a record of sorts in itself — made an unannounced trip in a naval speed boat to Katchatheevu, becoming the island-nation’s first head of government to set foot on the barren island.

By doing so, President Dissanayake was clearly marking Sri Lankan territory. Katchatheevu is part of Sri Lanka. India accepted its neighbour’s claim over this speck of land in the Palk Strait in 1974 with the “Agreement between Sri Lanka and India on the Boundary in Historic Waters between the two Countries and Related Matters” (this agreement then led to another in 1976, settling the maritime boundary between the two countries).

Nonetheless, Katchatheevu, located between Rameswaram and Jaffna, has been a recurring point of friction in India-Sri Lanka relations. Though it was never demarcated on any map of India, either in the colonial era or in the post-Independence period, Tamil Nadu politicians frequently speak about “taking back” the uninhabited island to soothe frayed tempers and nerves in the fishing jetties in Rameswaram. At the heart of the problem is the conflict over scarce resources between the Tamil fishers on either side of the waters.

Simply put, unsustainable practices by Tamil Nadu fishers such as bottom trawling, purse seine and double net fishing have scraped up all but the dregs of marine resources on the Indian side of the Palk Strait. The Sri Lankan side, with more resources because Jaffna fishermen could not put out to sea due to the tough security restrictions during the 30-year civil war, seems more attractive. Near daily incursions by Indian fishermen into Sri Lankan waters sometimes end with their arrests by the Sri Lankan Navy, seizure of their boats and nets, and sometimes, even fatalities.

But instead of addressing the main challenge of creating alternative livelihoods or diversifying fisheries, leaders in the state have propped up the illusion that Katchatheevu is the answer to all their problems.

Most recently, Tamil film actor Vijay, who has plunged into politics with a new party called the Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam, has done his bit to perpetuate this myth. At a public rally in Madurai, by all accounts his biggest so far, he asked the government to “do just one small thing” for the state’s fishermen: “reclaim this island so that our fishermen can be safe”.

Over the years, the Tamil Nadu government has adopted four resolutions demanding the ‘return’ of Katchatheevu. There are also cases before the Supreme Court asking the agreement to be struck down as “unconstitutional”. Prime Minister Modi and External Affairs Minister S Jaishankar added fuel to the fire during the 2024 Lok Sabha campaign with remarks that the Congress “callously” gave away Katchatheevu to Sri Lanka.

But if taking back Katchatheevu could solve the problems of Tamil Nadu fishers, why do fishing boats from the state venture as far as the shores of peninsular Sri Lanka, and are spotted even farther away, on Sri Lanka’s eastern coast?

For the record, Sri Lankan Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath, responding to Vijay’s remarks, has categorically ruled out any change in the status of Katchatheevu. For good measure, he also flagged the election in Tamil Nadu — Assembly polls are due next year — and asked Sri Lankans not to pay attention to “speeches made from election platforms”.

At home, Dissanayake’s touchdown at Katchatheevu is sure to help his National People’s Power (NPP) in its continuing public outreach in the predominantly Tamil Jaffna. A large section of Jaffna’s people depend on the sea for their livelihood. Among them a perception has taken hold that their Tamil brethren across the sea, who generously helped Tamil militant groups during the war, are now pitted against them. Visiting the island was certainly imaginative of Dissanayake to send home the message that he stands with Sri Lanka’s Tamil fishermen.

It could also reverse a perceptible sag in Dissanayake’s image over the last few months. The NPP government, which came to power promising sweeping economic changes, and more immediately, changes to the punishing terms of the IMF agreement, has so far managed only a holding operation. The loss of political ground was evident in the local elections earlier this year.

The government has, however, been acting on its other promise, of going after corrupt politicians and officials in previous governments. Former President Ranil Wickremesinghe, was the most high-profile politician to be arrested. He has been accused of misusing public funds to attend a ceremony in honour of his wife, an academic, at a British university. As the head of the nearly non-existent United National Party, Wickremesinghe was an easy target. The arrest (he has been released on bail) could raise expectations among the JVP-NPP base of more high-profile arrests. But it would be tougher for the government to go after, say, a member of the Rajapaksa family.

Against such power play, Dissanayake’s territorial assertion would certainly appeal to the government’s core constituency of Sinhala nationalists, who believe fervently that every inch of the island from north to south is ordained for the preservation and protection of the Buddhist faith. Plus, Dissanayake has also sent a message to critics at home who accuse him of being too soft on India — he faced flak for a defence cooperation agreement, and a pact on ‘digital transformation’ has been challenged in court by a rival politician — that he can stand up for Sri Lanka’s interests.

Back in Katchatheevu, a small shrine to St Antony, the patron saint of seafarers, has stood on the island for over a century. Historically, fishers from both Rameswaram and Jaffna have gathered at Katchatheevu to celebrate the saint’s feast day in March. After the end of the civil war, as Katchatheevu began to attract more pilgrims, the shrine was given a makeover.

The nearby islands of Delft and Nainativu also draw tourists from the mainland. The word is that now Katchatheevu, just 1.6 km long and 300 metres at its broadest, may be turned into a tourist destination. That is unlikely to end the rhetoric from Tamil Nadu, certainly not in this season of an approaching election.

Nirupama Subramanian is an independent journalist.