It takes a protest village: ‘Gota Go Gama’ unites diverse Sri Lankans

For two months, Mohammed Shermila has camped outside the president’s office in the capital city of Colombo, withstanding the blazing-hot sun and the occasional torrential downpour to demand the resignation of Sri Lanka’s powerful leader Gotabaya Rajapaksa. 

“We won’t go until he goes,” she says from her blue tent filled with Sri Lankan flags. A Muslim street vendor here, Ms. Shermila is one of hundreds of Sri Lankans who have hunkered down in the makeshift “Gota Go Gama” (GGG) village since April, as the island nation buckles under its worst economic crisis in recent history. Years of mismanagement have resulted in severe shortages of essentials like fuel and cooking gas, as well as daily power cuts and surging prices. 

In a country that’s long struggled with ethnic and religious conflict, GGG isn’t just a protest hub, but a rare glimpse into what a unified Sri Lanka could look like. Within the sprawling tent city, generations of mistrust between groups such as the Sinhalese Buddhists, Hindu Tamils, and Muslims appear to give way to fellowship, tolerance, and learning. Here, Sri Lankans are coming together with one goal:  send their elected president home.

Shamara Wettimuny, a University of Oxford history scholar, says it takes courage for minority groups to engage in the protest, given years of persecution by the state and majority Buddhist community. Nevertheless, she describes GGG as “the most united protest we have seen in recent times,” and says that while it doesn’t guarantee lasting peace, this period of cooperation could make way for  stronger democracy post-crisis.

“[Gota Go Gama] has received support from across the island, in creative and unique ways,” she says. “The effect of such experiences may not translate into solidarities overnight, but I am optimistic that in the long term, we will be in a better place than we are now.”

Although the protests have been peaceful, and government officials have not disrupted activities at GGG, a group believed to be government loyalists attacked protestors on May 9 and set fire to some tents. After that attack, then-Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa, the president’s eldest brother, resigned, and the new prime minister, Ranil Wickremesinghe, called for an investigation while extending his support to the protestors.

Overcoming a history of division

President Rajapaksa said last week that despite the continuing protests, he has no intention of stepping down. 

The controversial leader is part of Sri Lanka’s most powerful political family, and several relatives beside his brother have resigned from their posts since April. Before being elected president in 2019, Mr. Rajapaksa was known for his instrumental role in defeating the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, a militant group that sought to end the persecution of Tamils by creating an independent state in Northeast Sri Lanka. But ethno-religious tensions didn’t end with the civil war in 2009. Critics say the president and his political allies have used incidents like the 2014 and 2018 anti-Muslim riots and 2019 Easter bombings to stoke old fears and agitate their base.

Back in Gota Go Gama, between anti-Rajapaksa chants and demonstrations, protesters from all walks of life are finding community. During Ramadan, people from various faiths served Muslims snacks and water to break their daily fast, and Catholic priests and Buddhist monks joined in Eid al-Fitr festivities. When Sri Lanka celebrated its national new year in April, Sinhalese and Tamil protestors took part in traditional activities together.

Raghu Balachandran, a Tamil from the eastern city of Trincomalee, is thrilled that GGG has become a symbol of unity. “For many decades the Sinhala leaders used racism ... to keep the Sinhala community separated from the Tamils and the Muslims,” he says. “Gotabaya Rajapaksa and his party came to power using the same strategy.” 

He believes the economic crisis has allowed Sinhala people from the country’s south to better understand the “decades of suffering” that the Tamil people and other minorities endured.

Ms. Shermila has witnessed attacks on her Muslim community since 2013, when hardline Buddhist groups launched an anti-halal campaign. The change she’s seeing at GGG is overwhelming, she says:  “The Rajapaksas came to power using racism, but today we have all united to send them away. No one is identified here by their religion or race, because everyone is human, and humanity is our race.”

Strength in unity

Many, including Pavithra Chinthaka, are unable to stay at GGG all day due to job and family commitments. He joins the protests every evening after work. “I come here daily with my national flag to support the youth who are protesting,” says Mr. Chinthaka, who is Buddhist. “They are our future, and we must support them.”

Like Ms. Shermila, he says he feels a shift happening in Gota Go Gama, where people no longer feel they need to identify themselves based on their religion.

The crucial difference between the GGG protest and hundreds of others at various scales over the past century, says Ms. Wettimuny, is that the scope of GGG accommodates myriad grievances. 

“On the one hand, the primary focus of GGG is to send President Rajapaksa ‘home,’” she writes via email. “On the other, the spirit of GGG has welcomed and supported a range of historic and recent protests.” Those include calls for accountability for the anti-Muslim riots and Easter bombings, as well as decent wages and housing for plantation laborers and the repeal of the country’s controversial anti-terrorism law.

The diversity of causes appears to strengthen rather than weaken GGG, says Ms. Wettimuny, because “these minority grievances are receiving more ‘majority’ attention and support.” She adds that GGG is “a site for learning.”

Moses Akash de Silva has been protesting at GGG almost daily since the first tent was pitched on Galle Face Green on April 9. Unlike other protests backed by a political party, he says, GGG was started by the people. “It is open to anyone, and it has become a common area for anyone who wants to voice out against the government and the system,” he says.

Mr. de Silva says that he, a Christian, was in tears when he witnessed Muslims breaking fast every day at the protest site during Ramadan: “It was a very beautiful moment for me, seeing this unity which the Rajapaksas once broke.”