'He is my hero': In this pocket of Paris, slain LTTE chief Prabhakaran still holds sway

New Indian Express

29-07-2025

In some ways, the atmosphere here reminded me of Jackson Heights in New York city, a place I know intimately from over a decade of living there. Much like in the Queens borough of the city, people from South Asia come to this neighborhood in Paris to shop for groceries that are staples in Indian and Sri Lankan kitchens. The shelves are stocked with everything from curry leaves and dosa batter to jasmine garlands and incense sticks. My host in Paris mentioned that he often goes to the area for his haircut, a small but telling detail that echoes Jackson Heights, where many opt for the cheapest and most familiar barber in the city.
Having witnessed and studied conflict areas for over two-decades now, I was cautious about how I framed my questions during this visit. Fortunately, I found a few ideal interlocutors. For instance, one was a Tamil-origin student from Mumbai, pursuing his Master's degree while working part-time. He offered not just linguistic help but cultural context, helping me navigate the food, the street conversations, and the layered silences of this unique diaspora pocket.
Diasporas have long memories. Unlike those living in conflict zones who must make daily compromises with the reality of power, diasporic communities can afford to preserve unyielding narratives. Removed from the immediate pressures of the post-war reconciliation process, many Tamils abroad continue to see Prabhakaran not through the prism of terrorism or militarism, but as a symbol. This veneration plays out most visibly during Tamil national remembrance days like Maaveerar Naal (Great Heroes' Day), held on November 27, the day Prabhakaran's birthday is also commemorated. In cities like Toronto, London, and Paris, these events draw thousands, with children dressed in Tiger uniforms and speeches calling for Eelam (a separate Tamil homeland). Is this freedom of expression or the glorification of violence? Are these posters an innocent homage to a fallen leader or a provocation that risks reopening wounds?
The French government, like many European states, has a complicated relationship with diaspora politics. On the one hand, France prides itself on its republican values namely liberté, égalité, fraternité and its secular tolerance of diverse cultural expressions. On the other hand, it is also a country increasingly uneasy with displays of identity that challenge its unitary conception of citizenship. In 2006, France banned the LTTE as a terrorist organization, aligning with the EU designation. Tamil political activism in France, from peaceful demonstrations to lobbying for war crimes investigations, has largely been tolerated. At times, French officials have even offered quiet sympathy for the Tamil cause, especially in the aftermath of the brutal final months of the war in 2009, during which the Sri Lankan army was accused of shelling no-fire zones and killing civilians en masse.
Another interlocutor from Tamil Nadu whom I met informed me that one need to see the imagery here in a particular context. There is a deeper issue, however, that is not legal but moral. For many Tamil families of Sri Lanka in Paris, these posters are a form of justice denied. The UN has acknowledged credible allegations of war crimes committed by both the Sri Lankan military and the LTTE. But progress toward accountability has been glacial. Successive Sri Lankan governments have promised and then shelved mechanisms for truth and reconciliation.
As I wrapped up my nearly three-hour walk through the neighborhood, I paused at the metro station and gathered the courage to ask a direct question to a young passerby who seemed to have Tamil roots from Sri Lanka. When I inquired about the Prabhakaran posters, he responded simply, 'He is my hero and this is what I know.' His tone was firm yet cautious, and he appeared unwilling to elaborate further. That brief exchange reflected the silence that so often surrounds deeply polarizing memories. In the heart of Paris, beneath the image of a slain LTTE supremo and the man widely believed to have masterminded the assassination of a former Indian Prime Minister, the struggle for Tamil identity, and the complex, unresolved legacies of South Asia's violent past, quietly endures.
(The author has worked for 25 years as a practitioner, researcher and analyst on conflict areas and violent extremism issues.)