Renegotiating being Tamil post-‘Tigers’: second-generation Tamils in Germany

ABSTRACT

This article explores identity construction among second-generation Tamils in Germany, focusing on young adults. Rogers Brubaker’s groupism framework helps us to understand how the process of Tamil identity formation in diasporic contexts has been shaped by the Tamil organisation The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). After its defeat in 2009, members of the Tamil diaspora were forced to find new strategies to relate to the LTTE and ‘being Tamil’. The study illustrates how second-generation Tamils engage with Tamil identity: internalising dominant narratives, negotiating with first-generation perspectives, forging independent paths, distancing from the first generation, or remaining silent on LTTE. Through empirical insights, it elucidates the intricate interplay between generational identity construction and the reformation of the Tamil community. Based on in-depth empirical insights, this paper shows how the identity constructions of the different generations of the Tamil community and the re-construction of the community itself are entangled processes.

KEYWORDS:

• Tamil diaspora
• second generation
• identity
• groupism
• nationalism

Introduction

An identity that you created for yourself, that you grew up with, was destroyed. Because then you question your whole childhood, all the things you supported. Whether it was all right, what you did, whether you didn't take the wrong path, how you can change it. There were evenings when I just sat there and cried. Because I simply didn't know what my identity was and whether everything was right. And then the search begins. (Anusiya, 27, Germany 2021)

This quote comes from a second-generation Tamil woman in Germany describing her own critical examination of what she thought of as ‘Tamil identity’ following the defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), the organisation who fought for an independent Tamil homeland, by the Sri Lankan Army in 2009. During more than 30 years of conflict, the LTTE established a system of tight control among Tamils who had fled the war in Sri Lanka to all corners of the world. In Europe, where a large number of Sri Lankan Tamils live, the LTTE established a transnational network, connecting a dispersed Tamil population from different European countries both with their homeland and with each other. Beginning in the late 1980s, the militant organisation increasingly controlled Tamil lives not just in political, but also in economic and cultural terms.

With the official defeat of the LTTE in 2009, as pictures displaying the dead body of its leader, V. Prabakharan, went viral, the narratives, hopes, and power structures that the LTTE had established and maintained were suddenly destroyed. Many Tamils found what had happened hard to believe, so successfully had the LTTE spread the myth of its invincibility. The loss of the previously omnipresent voice of the LTTE meant that Tamil people found themselves entering a new era where they were forced to make their own sense of what had happened, who they were, and where they were going. Especially for the second-generation diaspora Tamils, who had largely grown up amidst a political climate shaped by the LTTE’s ideology, and who now saw futures which would have to be lived in a completely different world, this was a situation full of ambivalences. Taking the case of these second-generation Tamils living in Germany, this article scrutinises their perspectives and viewpoints, how they dealt with this new situation, and how they continue to struggle to make sense of ‘being Tamil’ more than a decade after the end of the war and if or how successful LTTE and the first generation were in passing on their values. It investigates how the meaning of ‘being Tamil’ is socially produced and how these young Tamils try to find ways to reposition themselves within, and in relation to, the Tamil population in Germany as well as with respect to German society in general. The analysis of negotiations of belonging among the young Tamils helps us to better understand how young people proceed to find their place in a globalised world.

The analysis is mainly based on results from ethnographic fieldwork conducted in Sri Lanka and Germany between October 2021 and June 2022. In Germany, interviews were conducted with ten persons categorised as second-generation Tamils – three women and seven men, between 24 and 35 years of age, all of whom hold at least a Bachelor degree. The interviewees are active participants in Tamil student groups, aid and development organisations, and produce podcasts for the Tamil population. Except for one, all previously attended a ‘Tamil school’ weekly. Their voluntary involvement in Tamil community work indicates that ‘being Tamil’ has more positive connotations in their identity construction than for those who have consciously turned away from such communities. The interviews were conducted in a semi-structured manner, with a lot of leeway given for participants to introduce their own topics and set priorities (Flick 2005). The interviews were recorded as audio files and then transcribed. The creation of inducting categories according to the principles of grounded theory (Glaser and Strauss 1967) with the help of the MAXQDA data analysis programme revealed dominant patterns and themes. Since one of us is a second-generation Tamil herself, sentences such as ‘I'm sure you know this yourself’, ‘I'm sure you know what I mean’, or Tamil idioms were frequently used by the interviewees. As per the regulations of our institution, ethics approval for reporting individual cases, is not required. To anonymise, the participant´s name have been changed. The interviews were also numbered to facilitate quick reference within the article and to make multiple mentions visible. Some interpretations and experiences in the results section are derived from said author’s own experiences and observations.

This article is divided into four sections. The first section provides an overview of the conflict in Sri Lanka and subsequent migratory movements. The second section discusses the theoretical framework of this paper with its focus on diaspora formation, and how it relates to the case analysed here. We provide an analysis of the empirical data in the third section and demonstrate the variety of strategies which have been employed by young Tamils in negotiating their own ideas of being Tamil. In the fourth section, the conclusion, we summarise the findings and relate them back to our conceptual considerations.

The Sri Lankan civil war and migration

Sri Lanka’s civil war is one of the longest and bloodiest in South Asia’s postcolonial history. From the point in time that the country sought independence from British colonialism, the polarisation of ethnic differences increasingly determined domestic politics. The fact that large parts of the majority Sinhalese population believed that the minority Tamils had enjoyed preferential treatment by the British colonisers was intentionally exploited by political leaders and shaped electoral politics post-1950. The Sinhala Only Act of 1956, which enshrined Sinhala as the official language, demoting Tamil and also former lingua franca English, introduced a variety of other measures geared towards nationalist exclusion, and increasingly provoked resistance from various Tamil groups. Some of these groups revolted against the dominant Tamil political parties, who to them represented established, high-caste political leaders, and violence was increasingly employed as a means to express resistance (Thiranagama 2010, 195). The LTTE emerged as the most successful of such resistance groups. Following a pogrom targeting the Tamil population during the second half of July 1983, the LTTE demanded the establishment of a separate state in the mostly Tamil-inhabited northern and eastern parts of Sri Lanka, ‘Tamil Eelam,’ and civil war broke out between the LTTE and the Sri Lankan Army. During the 1990s and the early 2000s the organisation successfully held parts of territories inhabited by the Tamil population. But the price was high: The armed conflict resulted in thousands of people being displaced, tortured, raped, abducted, or forcefully recruited. According to some estimates, more than 100,000 people died (Ibrahim, Rajapillai, and Scott 2022, 1135).

Even before the war started, members of the Tamil population had begun to leave Sri Lanka, both due to the increasingly discriminatory and hostile climate, but also to better their long-term perspectives by, for example, getting an education abroad (Jayawardena 2020). While early Tamil migrants were mainly members of the higher caste and chose English-speaking countries as their destination, especially Great Britain, forced migration became a mass phenomenon from the 1980s onwards (Cheran 2001; McDowell 1996). Depending on their economic resources, Tamils fled to India, Australia, South Africa, Northern America, and Western Europe. In Germany, Tamils started arriving in the early 1980s (Baumann 2001). The children of this generation are now young adults – and are commonly referred to as the second-generation.

The LTTE started to organise and mobilise Tamils abroad as early as the late 1970s. Even though there were other, diverse Tamil organisations, the LTTE took up a hegemonial position in the diaspora and Sri Lanka. In the following years, a dense transnational network comprising about 40 countries (Gunaratna 2001: 3) was created, a network which encompassed all spheres of Tamil’s everyday lives: it was used to distribute newspapers, to organise Tamil cultural and sports events, and help build so-called Tamil schools, which Tamil children attended in addition to the regular school usually on Saturdays, and where they learnt the Tamil language, history, politics, music, and dancing (Kothe 2020; Somalingam 2017). The LTTE collected money, sometimes violently, which was used to finance state-building or the war for Tamil Eelam (Wayland 2004, 421; Human Rights Watch 2005). Members of the LTTE forged the establishment of a transnational movement, and organised demonstrations in the diaspora countries to force them to enact blockades against the Sri Lankan Government (Fuglerud 2001; Wayland 2004; Zunzer 2004). The financial, political, and knowledge-based resources of the diaspora were utilised to maintain the dream of a separate state (Pande 2016). An environment was created that was considered to be ‘normal,’ in which ‘being Tamil,’ both culturally and politically, was strongly emphasised, and dominated by the narratives promoted by the LTTE. Such measures included those which directly addressed children and youth: Tamil schools and sports clubs were founded, cultural and sports events were organised, and Tamil media was established (Fuglerud 2001; Wayland 2004; Zunzer 2004).

Most parents tried their best to pass on a sense of Tamilness to their children as they believed that once the war was won, they could re-migrate to the newly established Tamil Eelam. For younger Tamils, being Tamil was not without contestations, as Amarasingam and Poologaindran (2016, 90) vividly show in their case-study of Tamil youth in Canada, where a tendency towards gang formation and violence was successfully curtailed by the alternative offered by Tamil youth organisations. The challenges Tamil children and youth face when constructing their own ideas of what being Tamil means to them has been explored in countries such as Switzerland (Hess and Korf 2014; Gazange and Sánchez-Ccicedo 2015; Thurairajah 2021), Canada (O’Neill 2014; Amarasingam and Poologaindran 2016; Ananda 2016), the United Kingdom (Antony 2012; Ibrahim, Rajapillai, and Scott 2022; Jones 2015), Australia (Perera 2020), and Germany (Told 2014; Somalingam 2017; Kothe 2020). Our contribution lies in researching strategies of positioning oneself regarding hegemonial and groupist claims in the context of being the children of Tamil refugees in Germany. In doing so we build upon inquiries into identity constructions among Tamils in Sri Lanka or of the first-generation diaspora (Chattoraj 2022), or studies concentrating on identity constructions of second-generation Tamils in relation to: Hinduism (Ganesh 2014; Jones 2013), war and trauma (Jones 2013; Ibrahim, Rajapillai, and Scott 2022), the end of the war (Thurairajah 2020), their home and host countries, being a migrant and multiculturalism (Told 2014; Sriskandarajah 2010), and activism and LTTE (Ananda 2016; O’Neill 2014). O’Neill (2014), Hess and Korf (2014) show how the second generation in Canada and Swiss reframes LTTE’s ideas in line with Western ideas of human rights, trying to get politicians from their host countries to campaign for the rights of Tamils in Sri Lanka, thereby employing their belonging to both communities. In this paper, we will show that such strategies enable second-generation diaspora Tamils to relate to the heritage of the LTTE and to the first generation.

The second generation and diaspora formation

Since this article’s aim is to understand the self-positioning of young Tamils living in Germany, making sense of the above-described context and particularly the ways in which the narrative is constructed and controlled by the LTTE are key components. To this end, Rogers Brubaker’s thoughts on ‘groupism’ (2003) and ‘diaspora’ (2005) are helpful. Brubaker writes that in everyday understandings, ethnic groups are viewed with a groupist lens (2003, 165). Groupism understands members of a group or those having the same ethnicity as being homogeneous, that is, having immutable characteristics. Brubaker, in contrast, argues that groups are not fixed nor static, but are constantly ‘interacting, constructed, contingent and fluctuating’ (Brubaker 2003, 164). How, then, does a groupist imaginary come into being? Such imaginaries are often perpetrated by ethnopolitical organisations in order to assert certain interests, such as the quest for power (see also Wimmer 2004). In order to increase their legitimacy, they claim to speak for the entire ethnic group. They spread narratives in which ‘the others,’ those who belong to a different ethnic group, are unanimously positioned in opposition to their own group. Incidents such as discrimination or attacks against members of the imagined group reinforce the narratives of ‘us against them’. However, Brubaker maintains that ‘ethnic conflicts’ cannot be thought of as being between two ethnic groups, but rather between two organisations. He suggests that such be seen rather as ‘ethnically framed conflicts’ (Brubaker 2003, 166).

Diasporas are homogeneous groups that are constructed in an essentialist way. Their two dimensions, that is both social form and type of consciousness (Sökefeld 2006: 265; cited in: Grossman 2019, 1265), constitute one another in reciprocal ways. Collectives might call themselves diasporas in order to articulate goals, mobilise energies, and gain loyalty to pursue their own interests (Brubaker 2005), but there is also a very strong feeling of belonging together. Brubaker distinguishes three core elements of diaspora construction. The first criterion is a dispersion in space, one which does not necessarily have to be transnational. In the case of the Tamil diaspora, however, the transnational dimension plays an important role. The second element is a strong orientation towards a homeland – no matter whether it is real or imagined. This includes a collective memory or myth about one’s homeland which regards it as the true and ideal home – such as the collective commitment to the maintenance or restoration of Tamil Eelam, and the continuing relationship to it, are demonstrated not only by an extraordinary high willingness to donate to organisations associated with the LTTE, but also in the support of family members back home with remittances (Gerharz 2010; 2014; Cheran 2007). Thirdly, diasporas maintain their social boundaries over generations – which certainly holds true in the case of the Tamil diaspora in Germany, as this article will reveal. Building upon the assumption that diaspora should be regarded as a ‘category of practice, project, claim and stance, rather than as a bounded group’ (Brubaker 2005, 13), the aim of this article is to analyse how diaspora is being produced by its members, and how it is being made relevant. Moreover, we seek to understand it as a process of continuous (re-)production across time, under changing historical conditions. This framework helps us recognise the central role of organisations which claim to speak for a supposedly homogenous group, to see in-group differences, and to understand the different degrees with which people identify with the dominant narrative.

Diaspora formation in Germany

The production of a diaspora is, although constituted by a transnational network of dispersed and diverse social actors, place-specific. Tamils mainly arrived in Germany as asylum seekers between 1979 and 1998 (Baumann 2000, 2003; Salentin 2002, 70ff.). Contrary to other countries, where some cities emerged as Tamil centres (Salentin 2002, 85f.; Baumann 2003, 49f.), Germany allocated the newly arriving Tamils according to regional distribution keys as part of their asylum policy. Quite significant is the fact that Germany is not an English-speaking country, which has made it harder for Tamil migrants and their second-generation children to adjust in the host country. Due to high bureaucratic hurdles, most first-generation Tamil migrants were not able to get their studies or employment experience recognised by their new home country, which resulted in them being forced into employment in lower-wage sectors. Those from higher castes, or with more financial resources, opted to migrate to Canada or the UK, whereas many from lower castes came to Germany as asylum seekers (Kothe 2020, 102).

There is another way in which the German diaspora differs from others: While in the UK, Canada, or Switzerland, the Tamil diaspora is visible, and in part portrayed in the media as a ‘troublesome minority obsessed by imported conflict’ (O’Neill 2014, 124), Tamils in Germany number around 80,000 (Statistisches Bundesamt 2022, pers. comm.), and are therefore somewhat insignificant statistically speaking and relatively unknown.

The second generation are the children of these Tamil refugees. They grew up in the 1990s and 2000s and went to German schools. Studies document that most of the second generation in Germany experienced an environment heavily influenced and organised by LTTE, most significant of which was their attendance of Tamil schools on Saturdays, ideally up to 12th grade (Kothe 2020; Somalingam 2017). Their potential importance for the Tamil struggle is amply reflected in Prabhakaran’s last public speech in 2008, where he called on the diaspora second-generation to play a ‘prominent and committed role in actively continuing towards the liberation’ (O’Neill 2014, 124).

The LTTE’s claim to represent and speak for the whole Tamil community and its hegemonial presence in diaspora Tamil’s lives has been well documented (Somalingam 2017; Kothe 2020). Building upon these analyses we are interested in the strategies that are being employed by second-generation Tamils in Germany in order to relate to those groupist claims of the LTTE, as well as to those of the first generation. Moreover, we elucidate how they negotiate what being Tamil means for them as conditions around them change.

Five ways to (position to) Tamilness

Considering the strong control the LTTE exerted over the Tamil diaspora population and the influence that has had on their lives, we are interested in finding out to what degree second-generation Tamils might find ways to develop their own understandings of what it means to be Tamil. Based on the data collected from ethnographic fieldwork we have developed a typology, which helps us to visualise dominant patterns and strategies. As with all typologies, the complexities of reality are simplified. Multiple strategies can be combined, or different strategies can be applied at different stages of life.

‘This is Tamil. I am Tamil’ – internalisation

There are some things where there is little to no controversy as to whether it counts as being Tamil, and whether the interviewees identify with it. The interviewees’ Tamil name and physical appearance, and the origin of their parents, which differ from the German majority society, were only mentioned by one person and then, only in passing. The fact that the other interviewees did not mention such things indicates that they are not questioned at all. All interviewees mentioned the fact that Tamils, including their own parents, were discriminated against in Sri Lanka and experienced terrible things, and that this suffering should be acknowledged. All of them share the idea that Tamil people in Sri Lanka need their rights guaranteed, and that they should be offered more vocational opportunities, in line with the LTTE narrative. Not one interviewee stated (clearly) that they still want a separate state of Tamil Eelam, even though they still refer to it to describe the homeland of their parents (Interview 1,3,5,10). There is plenty of literature which shows that the members of the second generation are very aware of the traumatic past and actively engage with it (Ibrahim, Rajapillai, and Scott 2022; Valančiūnas 2021; Jones 2020) as it is the starting point for Tamil separatism.

Being able to speak Tamil is closely linked to being Tamil: Those who surprise their relatives in Sri Lanka with a good command of the Tamil language experience a special identification of being Tamil, that is one which is ascribed to them from an external source. The same applies to demonstrated knowledge of Tamil history, politics, and the practice of various cultural art forms such as dance and music (Interview 1,2,4,6,8,9,10). Certain values such as discipline, politeness, and respect for elders were expressed by many of the interviewees as a natural part of being Tamil, and values with which they identify, even if they do not live out these values to the same extent as their parents (Interview 2,3,4,5,6,8).

Two characteristics crystallise the internalisation of groupist attributions. Firstly, immutable characteristics such as history, parent’s biography, and skin colour. Secondly, mutable characteristics which bring with them certain advantages, such as those seen favourably by and enhancing a belonging to the Tamil community (e.g. language, historical knowledge), or those which are looked upon favourably by German society (e.g. being perceived as hardworking or polite).

‘This is Tamil and this is bad’

Some things that are, according to the dominant narrative, part of ‘being Tamil,’ are viewed critically by the interviewees. In the following, four strategies are presented detailing how members of the second generation go about dealing with such situations. The quote at the beginning of this article, in which the interviewee describes her first critical examination of the LTTE when she became an ethnology student shows how crushing such realisations can be, that is, that something is ‘Tamil’ and ‘bad’. She explains how ‘there were evenings when I just sat there and cried’ because ‘[I] simply didn’t know what my identity was’ and that ‘[I] question[ed] my whole childhood, all the things I supported’ (Anusiya 27, Germany 2021).

The despair in Anusiya’s quote above shows how successful the LTTE was in internalising their claims in members of the diaspora and therefore in instilling a feeling of groupism. The sympathy felt towards the LTTE and their central role in the everyday lives of the diaspora is questioned by many interviewees in the wake of the war’s end in 2009. Various interviewees stressed that nowadays the internet provides access to multiple sources of information, and that the revealing of lies, deceit, and war crimes committed by the LTTE provides a more nuanced picture. Moreover, the end of the war has led to certain disillusionment and has led many to question the usefulness of the emotional, political, and financial efforts being made by diaspora members. Therefore, the interviewees are now forced to deal with a realisation that the claims of the LTTE are no longer true.

‘The meaning of Tamilness should change!’ – changing and discussing

The caste system is something that many in the second generation identify as Tamil, but which they wish no longer played a role (Antony 2012). Many first-generation migrants are indeed also opposed to the caste system, partly because the LTTE themselves tried to abolish it, and partly because fraternity among Tamils was important in the fight against the Sri Lankan state (Brun 2008). In general, the caste system was portrayed by interviewees as an issue that is not openly discussed. Even though first-generation Tamils seem to widely accept people from other castes, they still want their children to marry someone from the same caste. The second generation is aware of this:

Many marry within the caste anyway, because of the parents, not because they want to support the system. Many have said that they think it sucks, but that they don't want their parents to argue with them and don't like what they are doing here. (Nishanth, 28, Germany 2021)

Nishanth explains how he and his Tamil student group wanted to break the taboo surrounding the topic by organising a panel discussion:

I don't think anyone else in Germany had ever done anything on the subject, and we had a lot of discussions ourselves before we raised the issue of the caste system. Many members of the group were afraid: ‘What will our parents say if they find out?’ (…) We invited our parents to my house and said that we wanted to do something like this. (…) We got a real headwind at first, they said: ‘Why are you doing this?’. We discussed it with our parents before we started developing the project ourselves. (…) Then we did a survey [among the student group] to see whether we should organise an event about it: it was 60–40. (…) We deliberately turned off all the cameras during the discussion and said: ‘We can discuss freely, we're not being recorded, we can say what we want and I think that helped in the end’. (Nishanth, 28, Germany 2021)

It is striking to see how not only the topic of caste system, but also the process, were negotiated in such a clear, step-by-step, stereotypical German manner. While many topics are not openly discussed in the Tamil community (Thiranagama 2010), it is fascinating to see how consciously the members of the second generation took up the issue of caste. The idea of a panel discussion on marriage within a caste is exceptional, as many things in the community should not be questioned (Interview 3,5,6). The conscious inclusion of members of the first generation in a discussion is also a new strategy: Many participants expected their parents to have a very strong (negative) opinion on the subject as such traditions determine their choices with respect to marriage candidates. It is important to note that the decision to include members of the first generation was taken by the student group, as this provides a setting where the second generation could discuss amongst themselves, away from Tamil schools with conservative teachers, and where they could talk about their fears and concerns and recognise common ground. Research on Tamil student associations in Canada, where more moderate, human-rights-oriented claims were used to address injustices in Sri Lanka (O’Neill 2014; Ananda 2016), confirms our observation. The strategy of conscious inclusion of the first generation was chosen because following groupist thinking confronts the second generation with a critical dilemma: Either an arranged marriage and accept being married to someone they likely don't love, or choose a partner themselves, and risk losing the connection to their family. Since one cannot marry someone in secret, as some interviewees testified, the pressure to change the groupist narrative is high. This case also reveals that the balance of power has changed over time. Twenty years ago, the second generation were young children, dependent on their parents, who were sent to Tamil schools, and had to conform to their parents’ strict rules. As the second generation now grows up in Germany, the parents are in a dependent position, having little contact or support outside the Tamil community, and facing poverty in old age after decades of working in the low-wage sector. If parents do not accept their children's life choices, for example the decision to marry someone outside of their own caste or the Tamil community, they potentially risk the relationship to their better-integrated children, and effectively have more to lose. Therefore, pressure increases on the first generation to question their formerly accepted ideals of what a ‘good’ or ‘Tamil’ lifestyle might be.

Those with very stable relationships with their parents not only addressed issues that were fundamental to them, but also stood up for others. For example, one interviewee convinced his mother to follow the channel of a trans-woman on YouTube. Another male interviewee regularly talks to his parents about the caste system or women's rights.

The strength of groupist claims and narratives about hierarchies with respect to the LTTE becomes clear when one considers the multiple strategies undertaken by the second generation in order to change the dominant narrative: the levels of effort in attempting to reduce the distance between them and the first generation, the willingness to explore ways to facilitate discussion, the change in power relations, their courage, and the need for a good plan.

‘Without the First Generation ’ – creating counterparts and new paths

In some cases, the strategy to negotiate with the first generation has failed. One interviewee, Kabilan, explains that he believes that the first generation sometimes puts too much pressure on the young to ‘be Tamil,’ or in too rigid and political ways. In such cases, people from the second generation rather choose to withdraw from the community. He suggests those organisations formed by members of the first generation should be more oriented towards the needs of young people and provide more inspiration. In addition, he urges all Tamil organisations to be more professional and transparent as the second generation values such attributes:

I told him [leader of a countrywide Tamil organisation] my demands (laughs). I had the feeling that all of them were saying ‘NO, we will not do it THIS WAY but THAT WAY’. I said: ‘No, I don´t want to’ (laughs). (Kabilan, 24, Germany 2022)

Kabilan tried to convince members of the older generations how important it was not to lose the second generation. After several unsuccessful attempts to do so, he decided to start his own organisation network in Germany, targeting second generation or less traditional groups, as he called them. His capability to build a counterpart network is linked to several privileges he possesses: As the son of the director of a well-known and respected Tamil school, he grew up with an awareness of a certain social status and a big network of Tamil actors. He has also invested a lot of time in the community helping other organisations, and has an outgoing personality. His experience of talking so bluntly to elders is by no means a standard in Tamil society, but he uses his privileged position, including his male gender, to be ‘cheeky,’ as he himself describes it.

While researching new Tamil organisations in Germany, we discovered that those new organisations founded after 2009, with many of them starting in 2018–2019, had been setup by members of the second generation with similar qualities: young men with outgoing personalities, who belong to known and engaged families with strong roots in the Tamil community, and who use their networks to create a following. These new organisations, like those of the first generation before them, ultimately want to improve the lives of Tamil people, but unlike those before them are structured more transparently, emphasise the need for political and juristic – not militant – solutions, and try to realise development projects in more sustainable ways by using resources and attitudes that they have gained in Germany (Interview 1-9). This trend resembles descriptions of second-generation Tamil organisations in Canada (O’Neill 2014; Ananda 2016) and Switzerland (Hess and Korf 2014; Gazange and Sánchez-Ccicedo 2015). New in our study, in contrast to the existing literature, is how organisations in Germany ‘deliberately’ exclude the first generation, while directly criticising them and urging them to change.

Apart from those mentioned above, two new spaces are being created by the second generation. One space is that created by Tamil student associations, which look to enlist new members upon the start of every new university year, create new networks, and formulate new goals. As mentioned in the above discussion about caste and marriage, members of the first generation can also be involved. Most of the time, however, the associations organise events for members to discuss issues as diverse as mental health, gender, diasporic life in general, or simply how to cook. The second space created by the second generation is online, through podcasts and Instagram pages, where taboos are discussed openly for the first time and in ways the first generation would never have allowed. This includes topics such as mental health, gender-critical discussions about Tamil movies, and sexual assault (Interview 8). The exclusion of the first generation from that online space may in part be a conscious decision, as alluded to by Kabilan in his quote and formation of a counterpart organisational network, but radical new ideas, and those formally deemed to be ‘not Tamil’ and ‘bad,’ are also inherently integrated in the newly created communities of the second generation.

Interviewees use the strategy of creating counterparts within existing Tamil structures in relation to the first generation if they have the resources to do so. Having strong networks and a high status in Tamil society, and being male and outgoing helps them to achieve their goals of changing the groupist notion of immutability. What motivates them to mobilise their energies is strong sense of Tamilness belonging (Interview 1-10), which is in line with existing literature (Chattoraj 2022; Jayawardena 2020). New paths independent of the first generation were created by the interviewees in new spaces such as universities or online via Instagram or podcasts, in order to actively counter the groupist idea by analysing, deconstructing, and changing Tamil society.

The Tiger in the room – silence

Until this point, our analysis has shown how the second generation challenges and publicly discusses accepted notions of ‘being Tamil.’ At the same time, feelings of disappointment or outrage with respect to the LTTE are not addressed in such public spaces. There are two reasons why such topics are regarded as taboo: Firstly, there is still a clear main role of the LTTE in the lives of second-generation Tamils: That they fought on behalf of all Tamils, friends, family members or relatives have died as Tigers in the conflict, and they made such cultural goods as Tamil school possible; it could be said that the LTTE gave the second generation the mission to advocate for Tamil rights. The central position of the LTTE to the constitution of Tamil identity is shown in how many second-generation Tamils present themselves on online platforms such as Instagram. Many have a tiger symbol in their short description about themselves on the platform. They commemorate days of political importance for the LTTE online through info posts. Posts about the LTTE are seldom questioned, and if so, that person will be criticised in the comment columns. This silencing happens because no one wants to be portrayed as an ungrateful traitor (see also Thiranagama 2010). Some interviewees reported that they refrain from criticising the LTTE while being with certain friends or acquaintances as they know that these friends will get very defensive (Interview 4,8). Such conflict-avoidance behaviour has also been noted by Gazange and Sánchez-Ccicedo (2015) and Told (2014, 132). Defenders of the LTTE regard critical views as a betrayal of the heroes who died for all Tamils (O’Neill 2014).

The second reason why the LTTE is not openly critically discussed pertains to the understanding that young Tamils have with respect to the LTTE. Although they maintain that first-generation narratives about ‘being Tamil’ do not apply to them when it comes to everyday decisions such as dating, they do not apply a similar logic to their understanding of the LTTE and the war. Since information about the LTTE and the war was selectively channelled by the LTTE themselves, through their diaspora structures, Tamils in Germany did not experience any inconsistencies with said information in their everyday lives. In his analysis of ethnically-framed conflict in Romania, Brubaker (2003) shows that although groupist ideas often do not stand up when confronted with everyday interactions, they can emerge in crisis situations. When weighing up the gains versus risks of a critical, public debate about the LTTE, it becomes clear that potential long-term gains in terms of communal healing, are counterbalanced with the short-term exposure an individual would have to heavy criticism and the risk of exclusion from pro-LTTE sub-communities. It is also important to mention that many young second-generation Tamils are (still) associated with the Tamil Youth Organisation (TYO) which was originally founded by the LTTE. Some of the interviewees are members of another Tamil organisation, Comdu.it, or sympathetic to their cause. Comdu.it differs from TYO in terms of its stance, objectives, and approach as it is more pragmatic and less political. In the interviews some respondents confided that while they understood the history of the LTTE, they were critical of their criminal offences and wished to find other ways to advocate for Tamil rights. Expressing such critical opinions in a differentiated manner is still a challenge in the Tamil community due to the strong power of the LTTE. Gazange and Sánchez-Ccicedo (2015) also observed that in Switzerland, diaspora members did not criticise the LTTE openly, even if they opposed it personally.

This strategy is interesting when seen through the lens of Brubaker´s groupism. Although many aspects that are considered ‘being Tamil’ are slowly changing, references to the LTTE remain rigidly fixed. During our fieldwork in Germany, we did not find a single person who criticised the LTTE openly: All the interviewees seem to employ the strategy of public silence as the costs of being shamed are too high. In this case it becomes visible how successful the LTTE has been in establishing its groupist ideas in society. The LTTE emerged in a time of crisis as a response to discrimination and attacks against Tamils. It presented itself as the saviour of Tamils, and with each further attack upon it, albeit sometimes provoked, the LTTE's position in the Tamil community was strengthened. This led to more and more Tamils identifying themselves with the LTTE, and more and more believing in the liberation narrative constructed by the LTTE. The life-threatening context led to the LTTE being able to locate itself at the centre of Tamil society, and as a result still being able to have an impact today, years after its de-facto defeat in 2009.

‘I do not want to deal with this anymore’ – leaving

After 2009, I had the attitude that I didn't want to have anything more to do with politics. It wasn't until 2012 that I started following current news and in 2016 I became more reflective. (Tharani 29, Germany 2022)

This quote is consistent with many interview statements (Interview 2,3,4,5,6,9,10). After investing much time and effort into the struggle for a separate state only to realise that it was not to be achieved, many diaspora Tamils were so shocked and disappointed that they decided not to attend Tamil organisations and events any longer. This decision to quit was sometimes temporary, sometimes permanent. In 2009, many interviewees were in the midst of puberty, an age when young people distance themselves from their parents’ norms, regardless of political developments. The fact that many of the organisations we researched were formed in 2018 and 2019 may be partly due to the age of their founders, that is they are of the age where they have acquired the ability to form organisations by themselves, but it may also be that enough time since the end of the conflict has passed and they wish to reengage with Tamil politics. Other interviewees reported that less and less people physically attend the LTTE commemoration days each year, even if they continue to post about it on social media (Interview 1,6,7,8,10).

The strategies of internalisation and leaving both underscore the groupist idea of the immutable characteristics of a group. The loss of the dream of an independent Tamil Eelam and the sociocultural pressure meant that interviewees saw leaving as their last viable option. The main argument relates to the inability to ‘be oneself,’ and being able to decide about one’s own future, independent from the preferences of parents (Interview 2,3,4,8). The rigidity and inflexibility with which parts of the Tamil community holds on to dominant narratives about what ‘being Tamil’ means, results in the exclusion of some second-generation members. Those interviewees whose access to student groups and other second-generation organisations is restricted see less opportunities for themselves to engage in spaces where ‘being Tamil’ is openly discussed and expanded upon.

Conclusion

A crucial question to be asked as a result of this study is if second-generation Tamils actually want to renegotiate what ‘being Tamil’ means. The dominant narrative of Tamilness arose during a time of crisis, and in which first-generation Tamils tried to pass on Tamil values, history, and decisions to their children, a vision which was crushed with the defeat and subsequent obscurity of the LTTE. Members of the second generation in Germany utilise both memories and the sense of belonging to a Tamil community, and their host land as a space for developing new strategies to (re-)construct identity and strategies. The radically different strategies presented here show how diverse and fluid second-generation Tamils are in their identity construction. This notwithstanding, rigidity and silence remains in discussions concerning the LTTE. In the case of positioning themselves with respect to notions of groupism, privileges (previously enjoyed or created through spaces like student groups) and felt belonging influenced interviewees likelihood that they would remain with the Tamil community to change notions of ‘being Tamil.’ When notions of ‘being Tamil’ are held to be too narrow and result in (a fear of) being shamed, either within one’s family or politically, second-generation Tamils can use the freedoms afforded them by German society to remove themselves from spaces of Tamil influence. These strategies reinforce how in a globalised world, access to multiple locations influence an actor’s agency in which they can change said location’s social structures. Brubaker's framework helps us to recognise the centrality of the LTTE in the Tamil diaspora community and to understand the different levels and ways in which people relate to the dominant narrative. At the same time, with the rise of new organisations and individuals, who organise anew and challenge so many things in Tamil culture, e.g. with podium discussions about caste, or podcasts discussing trauma, we will be sure to witness further negotiations around what ‘being Tamil’ may mean for now, and in future.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Thivitha Himmen

Thivitha Himmen is a PhD student at the Fulda Graduate Center of Social Sciences, Germany. Her PhD concerns itself with how development and future visions in northern Sri Lanka are negotiated between local actors and the second-generation diaspora. Her research focuses include identity and belonging, migration, development, power relations, and racism. In addition to her academic interests, being herself a second-generation Tamil in Germany, she actively practices the art of scientific communication by giving workshops and lectures to Tamil student groups and development organisations.

Eva Gerharz

Eva Gerharz is Professor of Sociology of Globalisation at the Department of Social and Cultural Sciences at Fulda University of Applied Sciences, Germany. Her research locates itself in South Asia, especially Sri Lanka and Bangladesh. She is the author of ‘The Politics of Reconstruction and Development. Transnational Commitment to Social Change’ (2014, Routledge), and the co-editor of ‘Government, Conflict, and Development in South Asia. Perspectives from India, Nepal, and Sri Lanka’ (with Siri Hettige, 2015, Sage) and ‘Spaces of Violence in South Asian Democracies’ (with Joanna Pfaff-Czarnecka, 2017, Asian Journal of Social Sciences). She has published numerous articles concerning migration, conflict, and development.