Understanding the Title of "National Leader of Tamil Eelam": A Reflection on Tamil National Political Consciousness

In the long and painful journey of the Tamil people’s struggle for liberation—both political and armed—only one figure has been unanimously embraced by the people as the National Leader of Tamil Eelam: Mr. Velupillai Prabhakaran.

What set him apart was not merely his strategic genius or military leadership, but his unwavering commitment to the collective aspirations of the Tamil people. He alone succeeded in unifying various liberation movements—many of whom had previously functioned in isolation or even opposition to one another—under a single banner rooted in national interest, ethical clarity, and shared political purpose. It was this integrative vision that secured him the title of Thesiya Thalaivar (National Leader), a designation not created by fiat but born from the people’s own consensus.

In the early 2000s, amid shifting global politics and domestic realities, Mr. Prabhakaran demonstrated political maturity by establishing the Tamil National Alliance (TNA). This move represented a significant turning point, as it integrated former rivals—such as TELO, EPRLF, and others—into a single political front. Though the Rising Sun was initially proposed as the electoral symbol, its historical association with the Tamil United Liberation Front (TULF)—a once-vibrant movement that had by then fragmented, with some members collaborating with anti-Tamil forces—led to its rejection. The symbol had lost its resonance with the people, particularly among Eastern Tamils and those of the Malaiyaha Tamil community.

Faced with limited options, Mr. Prabhakaran made a strategic and philosophical choice: he selected the House symbol, formerly associated with Ilankai Tamil Arasu Kachchi (ITAK) but dormant since 1972. The choice was not based on sentimentality, nor was it a mere compromise. It was a calculated, forward-looking decision. The House stood as a metaphor for ideological shelter, unity, and national stability. It offered an alternative to the Bicycle symbol, which was associated with the All Ceylon Tamil Congress and a style of leadership rooted in “great man” politics rather than collective nationalism.

It is important to remember that the LTTE had once rejected these very political parties, and at times even fought militarily against TELO and EPRLF. Yet, by the early 2000s, Mr. Prabhakaran recognised the importance of unity in a rapidly evolving global and domestic context. He moved beyond past enmities, choosing reconciliation and integration over division. This act of political maturity and strategic foresight reflected not weakness, but strength—the kind of leadership that places the nation’s survival above ego or legacy.

In this light, it is both historically and morally misguided to label former fighters or political collaborators—who were later integrated into Tamil national politics under the LTTE's political wing—as “traitors” or “sellouts.” To do so is to deny the deliberate and principled choices made by the National Leader himself. More dangerously, it risks distorting the very foundation of Tamil nationalism, which was always rooted in ethical clarity (aram), not blind loyalty or emotional outbursts.

Today, the Tamil political landscape remains clouded by confusion. Many fail to distinguish between the true adversaries—those who deny the Tamil nation’s existence and participate in its structural genocide—and those who have been part of its evolving struggle for self-determination. The real enemies are those who advance Sinhala-Buddhist hegemony, whether through direct violence or indirect complicity, including policies of demographic change, economic displacement, and cultural erasure.

In this context, political clarity is not optional—it is essential. Tamil national politics must evolve beyond rhetorical performances and confront the reality of post-2009 challenges with renewed vision and discipline. New platforms for unity must emerge, grounded in shared principles rather than party loyalties or outdated symbols.

The National Philosophy behind a Symbol

When Mr. Prabhakaran rejected the Bicycle symbol, he did so based on ethical reasoning and historical awareness. The Tamil people had repeatedly rejected the political culture that symbol embodied. By contrast, the House, though dormant, held deeper connotations: it invoked a past of political assertion, a space for ideological refuge, and a symbol of collective memory.

It was not simply a tactical choice—it was an act of political restoration. The House became not just an electoral emblem, but a moral compass, guiding a community toward dignity, identity, and unity in the face of disintegration.

If the Tamil people internalise this understanding, they will no longer view symbols as weapons of division but as tools for national coherence. True Tamil nationalism does not live in logos or party flags—it lives in the shared spirit of justice, memory, and liberation.

In the end, it is not individual leaders, parties, or even movements that define a national cause. It is the philosophy that underpins them—the collective determination of a people to seek justice, demand dignity, and uphold truth—that gives meaning to the struggle for Tamil Eelam.

© Balananthini Balasubramaniam (Nila Bala) @SmallDrops

United Kingdom | 07 May 2025

(Disclaimer: Few images are AI generated and are used for representational purposes only)

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