Fifteen years have passed since the massacre at Mullivaikkal, where more than 140,000 Tamils were murdered by the Sri Lankan government.
I was born in 1983 into the heart of a genocidal war against Tamils in Sri Lanka. My earliest memories are of conflict, death and destruction. I lost my brother and three cousins when my school was bombed by the Sri Lanka Air Force on 22 September 1995. As a young child, witnessing such horrors left an indelible mark on me. 
Fast forward to May 2024, and the world is witnessing another genocide, this time in Palestine. The bloodbath in Rafah, where 1.5 million people are cornered with no escape, mirrors the Tamil genocide in 2009. Yet again, the world seems to look away. 
 
Sri Lanka gained independence from British rule in 1948, and for Tamils, this marked the beginning of decades of systemic oppression and violence. The 1983 Black July pogroms saw thousands of Tamils hunted and killed by government supporters who used electoral lists provided by the state. 
 
In 1987, the Indian Peacekeeping Force (IPF) entered Sri Lanka, ostensibly to mediate, but ended up committing atrocities against Tamils. Under Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi’s leadership, the IPF murdered thousands of Tamils. Throughout the 1990s, the Sri Lankan state carried out a series of massacres against Tamil civilians, culminating in the mass displacement of Jaffna’s population in 1995. Israeli-supplied planes bombarded civilians, including the fateful attack on my school. 
 
The genocide reached its peak in 2009 in a small strip of land called Mullivaikkal. The government designated a series of “no fire zones”, where people were told to flee to avoid the bombing. Once assembled, they were massacred. More than 300,000 Tamils were trapped, and according to census records, at least 146,000 went unaccounted for when the assault subsided. The Sri Lankan army systematically targeted Tamil civilians, leading to one of the most horrific genocides in recent history. 
 
The Palestinian struggle has roots stretching back to the early 20th century, but it intensified with the establishment of Israel in 1948. Palestinians were displaced en masse, and since then, they have faced relentless oppression, violence and systematic ethnic cleansing. 
 
Tamil Eelam, the northern and eastern parts of Sri Lanka, is the historic homeland of Tamil speakers, just as Palestine is for Palestinians. Both regions have rich cultural heritages deeply intertwined with their respective peoples. The loss of these homelands and the cultural erasure that followed are shared traumas. 
 
Imperial powers have played significant roles in both genocides. In Sri Lanka, the British left a legacy of ethnic division that fuelled decades of conflict. Western powers, including the United States and Israel, have provided military support to Sri Lanka. Similarly, Western support for Israel has been instrumental in the ongoing oppression of Palestinians. 
 
The targeted killings of Tamils in 1983, the displacement in Jaffna and the massacres in 2009 mirror the systematic violence against Palestinians. In both cases, civilians were deliberately targeted, and entire communities were decimated. The use of military force against schools, hospitals and shelters is a common and tragic theme. 
 
The international community’s indifference to these genocides is one of the most striking parallels. In 2009, as Tamils protested worldwide, their cries were largely ignored. Their plight was dismissed as Tamil Tiger propaganda. Today, we see a similar apathy towards the Palestinian genocide. Despite widespread protests, the response from global elites is tepid at best. They continue to arm and fund the genocide, just as they did in 2009, all in the name of destroying Hamas. 
 
The bombing of my school in 1995 is a personal testament to the brutality of the Tamil genocide. Twenty-two children, including my brother and cousins, were killed. This memory is etched in my mind, a constant reminder of the horrors we endured. When I see the images from Rafah, I am reminded of my own childhood, of the innocent lives lost and the global silence that followed. 
 
The media’s role in both genocides has been appalling. The Tamil genocide received scant coverage in Western media, and the same outlets today are whitewashing Israel’s crimes. 
 
The international community’s failure to intervene in genocides like those in Tamil Eelam and Palestine is not merely a matter of oversight or indifference; it reflects a deep rot within capitalist society. Imperialist powers rely on these conflicts to maintain their global dominance and control. Intervention against such atrocities is often against their interests, as these wars and acts of oppression are tools to sustain their order. 
 
For the people of Palestine and Tamil Eelam, and for all societies seeking freedom from oppression, the path to true emancipation does not lie in appealing to those currently in power. The fight must be directed at the root cause of such systemic violence: capitalism. Only by uniting in a revolutionary struggle can the oppressed and exploited hope to end the cycle of violence. 
The stories of Tamil Eelam and Palestine must not become barely remembered historical footnotes but urgent calls for justice. We must acknowledge these genocides, stand in solidarity with the oppressed and work towards a future where such atrocities do not occur.

Aran Mylvaganam

The forgotten genocide—fifteen years on from Mullivaikkal

Standing in the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court yesterday, I felt a mixture of relief and indignation. My crime? Demanding justice for refugees left behind by the Labor government. My punishment? Eight months of good behaviour and a $200 fine. No conviction, but this was not justice.
It began with a protest on 4 May last year. Fifty people, united in our demand for permanent visas for 10,000 refugees abandoned by the Labor government, occupied Immigration Minister Andrew Giles’ office in Thomastown. Our message was clear: these people deserve better.
But instead of addressing our concerns—that thousands of people have been left in limbo and at risk of deportation under federal Labor’s refugee policies—the police were sent in to clear us out. I was hit with eight charges, including an outrageous accusation that I assaulted a police officer (an emergency worker). It was an attempt to silence and intimidate those who refuse to be quiet about these refugees’ plight.
The charge of assaulting an emergency worker carries a mandatory six-month jail sentence. Enacted during the pandemic to protect paramedics, it’s now being weaponised against political activists. The authorities were sending a message: protest at your own peril.
In the end, after negotiations with the public prosecutor, I was advised to plead guilty to assaulting police and resisting arrest in exchange for police dropping six other charges. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I had little choice. 
What is perhaps most outrageous is the hypocrisy of it all. I was paraded through the justice system for daring to protest the minister’s inaction. But the minister faces no consequences for the government’s appalling treatment of refugees and asylum seekers. People overseeing injustice live in relative luxury. Those opposing injustice get police charges. Where is the “justice” in that?
This is not just about my experience; it’s about the broader failings of our political system when it comes to refugees. The Labor Party has repeatedly failed to show a shred of humanity. It is the party that introduced mandatory detention. It is the party that chose to be complicit with Liberal Prime Minister John Howard’s all-out war on refugees in the late 1990s and early 2000s. 
It is also the party that introduced enhanced screening processes which led to the forcible deportation of more than 1,000 refugees to Sri Lanka and reopened offshore detention.
After nine years in the wilderness, this party returned to power with a promise to be more compassionate. Yet, while I was fighting these charges, the ALP has announced new barbaric measures: deportation laws that could destroy the lives of thousands of refugees. Instead of offering hope to those in need, they have perpetuated a system of cruelty and indifference.
For years, the Labor Party has pandered to the politics of fear—demonising refugees for political gain. It has turned its back on those who need help the most, all in the name of electoral expediency. It is a shameful legacy.
It’s the ALP that should be put on trial, not refugee activists.
Aran Mylvaganam is a founder of the Tamil Refugee Council.

Charged for protesting for refugee rights

The day after the federal election was called, I met Pushpanayaki, a Tamil mother with two children, in Sunshine in Melbourne’s western suburbs. She witnessed the Sri Lankan army murder tens of thousands of people in 2009, during the final days of its war against our people. Pushpanayaki fled the genocide with her husband; they came to Australia as refugees.
Her two children—5-year-old Ashwini and 8-year-old Abeesan—were born here. They were happy to see me and asked me to bring chocolates next time I visit them. These two children are growing up in a house where their parents are constantly worried about being deported back to Sri Lanka. Ashwini and Abeesan can’t visit their cousins living overseas, and they still face the prospect of being put into detention and deported in the future to a country that they have never set foot in.
The Liberal and Labor parties have deliberately ruined the lives of this and so many other families. They are the sort of people that the next government, no matter which party forms it, pledges to send them back to the violence they have tried to flee.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison declares that if Labor wins the election, boats arrivals will start again—something we are supposed to object to or be fearful of. Anthony Albanese, opposition leader, confirmed that a Labor government would turn around refugees seeking safety and tow them back to where they came from.
This stomach-churning “debate” is happening at a time when thousands of refugees like Pushpanayaki are languishing in detention centres and in the community.
Australia’s detention system has repeatedly been found to be arbitrary, discriminatory and in violation of international law. The Geneva-based Global Detention Project’s most recent country report notes that the average length of refugee detention is nearly two years, and that the government still hasn’t established a detention monitoring body, which is required of it by the Optional Protocol to the UN Convention against Torture, which Australia ratified in 2017.
There are more than 30,000 refugees living in the community on bridging visas waiting for a decision on their protection claim. Many more have been granted temporary protection visas and Safe Haven Enterprise Visas. Another 550 refugees are waiting for resettlement to a third country. Most of these refugees have been living in the community for more than ten years.
All the refugees in the community have been denied basic rights. A father who left his children in transit countries and took on the dangerous journey alone is being punished by being denied family reunion. A child who grew up in Australia to refugee parents has to pay full fees to pursue higher education.
More than 15,000 refugees whose claims are before the courts are denied the right to work and to any government support. They can’t travel overseas to meet family members. There is very little support available for mental health issues.
I receive at least two phone calls a month from people letting me know of yet another refugee death in the Tamil community. Very often, it’s someone in their 30s. The latest was on Good Friday, when I received the news that Dinesh, who was 35, had been found unconscious in his bathroom by housemates in Sunshine West.
I also received a call from a distressed father, his son-in-law in a coma for two weeks. He was found in a pool of blood by housemates after he failed to show up at his work. After three weeks, he is still in critical condition—but our Immigration Department has denied his wife a visa to be by his side in the hospital.
Politicians can’t get enough of destroying refugee lives. Morrison recently accepted a New Zealand “deal” that offered very little hope to most of the refugees in the community. While it was celebrated as a victory by a section of the refugee movement, as time went by, it became more and more clear that this deal will separate families for years. There are 1,200 people eligible for resettlement in New Zealand, of whom only 450 will be freed—and over the next three years. That’s two to three years of uncertainty for most of the 450 people who have spent long years in detention.
No matter which of the major parties forms government after the election, we are going to have to continue fighting for every life. And not just for the thousands of people here in Australia, but the thousands stranded in third countries such as Indonesia, which isn’t a signatory to the Refugee Convention, and prevented by Australia from exercising their right to seek safety.
Aran Mylvaganam is the founder of the <a href="https://tamilrefugeecouncil.org.au/">Tamil Refugee Council </a>and the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AranMylvaganamForSenate">Victorian Socialists Senate candidate</a>.

End the bipartisan torture of refugees

Victorian Socialists Senate candidate Aran Mylvaganam delivered the following speech at the party’s 2022 federal election campaign launch at Trades Hall on 19 March.
I came to this country as a 13-year-old unaccompanied refugee in 1997. But I started my political activism in 2008, when the Sri Lankan state was waging a murderous, genocidal campaign against my people.
At the time, I was a member of the ALP and was trying to build support for our cause and bring attention to the Sri Lankan government’s violence.
While the Sri Lankan army dropped chemical weapons and murdered over 100,000 Tamils, no-one from the major political parties would even meet with us.
In our hour of need, it was the socialists who stood by our side.
When thousands of Tamils fled the war and came here as refugees, the Labor government imprisoned them and sent them back, possibly to their death.
But the socialists were with us demanding an end to mandatory detention and demanding a diplomatic break from the Sri Lankan state. Trevor Grant, a socialist, helped me found the Tamil Refugee Council.
It wasn’t just the refugee issue or the Tamil issue. The socialists were leading almost all the progressive campaigns—for marriage equality, for workers’ rights, against militarism and war, for Palestine solidarity, for free education and more.
This is when I became a socialist. I could see that socialism is about fighting for a world that works for everyone. So I am proud to stand here today as the Victorian Socialists Senate candidate.
Over the last couple of months we have spoken to so many people at our campaign stalls across Melbourne. From Dandenong to Derrimut, from Footscray to Epping, I have spoken to manufacturing workers who are struggling for a decent living due to poor wages and conditions.
I have spoken to refugees who have been in our community for more than ten years and are denied even the basic rights of a citizen.
I have spoken to retired workers who are denied adequate pension for a peaceful retirement.
I have spoken to young people who are angry that their future is being stolen from them.
We have Anjaan here today. Two weeks ago, I bumped into him at a stall in Dandenong. He came to Australia in 2009. Ten years ago, the Labor government tried to deport Anjaan, even though, out of desperation, he had slit his own throat.
Refugee activists like Liz Walsh and Jess Lenehan who are now part of Victorian Socialists were the ones who stopped the deportation. Forty of us, despite a heavy police presence, formed a picket line outside the refugee prison in Maribyrnong.
Every vehicle that was going in and out had to be screened by us. Our action delayed the deportation and gave us time to get a legal injunction. Ten years later, Anjaan is still living in our community. 
This is who Victorian Socialists are. We don’t want to just get a seat at the table. Just like we did for Anjaan, we will fight for a better world using whatever means necessary. Even if that means destroying the table.
Like Anjaan, there are thousands of refugees who have been part of our community for over ten years. It’s okay for them to be exploited, for companies to grow rich from their labour. But they have no right to vote, to have a say even over local issues, let alone who governs the country.
Our campaign is about giving a voice to these people. 
But this isn’t just about refugees. Racism and bigotry are used to divide us all. So their struggle is our struggle.
The Tharmaseelan family, a family of seven who are here today, have exhausted all their legal options and are facing the threat of deportation. Until they are free, none of us is free!
Anujan is here, a refugee on a temporary protection visa and a staunch unionist. Until he is free, none of us is free!
Vinayagam is here. He works in the recycling industry and has been permanently separated from his family. He was issued with a three-month bridging visa only after he promised to voluntarily leave the country when it ends. Until he is free, none of us is free!
Their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
Let us, together, fight for a society that puts people before profits.

No-one is free until everyone is free

Sri Lanka’s parliamentary election was held on 5 August, 75 percent of the country’s 16 million voters casting ballots. War criminal former President Mahinda Rajapaksa led the Sri Lanka People’s Front (SLPP) to a decisive victory, winning 145 of the legislature’s 225 seats—five seats short of the two-thirds majority required to amend the constitution. Rajapaksa is expected to form an alliance with another party to secure the numbers needed to expand the powers of the current president, Mahinda’s brother Gotabhaya Rajapaksa, who was elected last year. 
The United National Party (UNP), led by former Prime Minister Ranil Wickramasinghe, didn’t win a single seat and managed to gain representation only through a national list. Peace—People’s Power, a breakaway faction from the UNP headed by Sajith Premadasa, came second with 54 seats. The People’s Liberation Front, which calls itself a Marxist party, managed to win only three seats, down from six at the last election. 
The election campaign again proved that Sri Lanka’s politics is centred on absolute entitlement. Ever since British colonial rulers departed, leaving the island with a constitution that has been used by the majority Sinhala population to wage a genocidal assault on the Tamil population, mainstream political parties have reinforced the old belief that the whole island and all its assets and resources belong to the Sinhala Buddhist population. During the campaign, Mahinda, who is yet to face justice for his premeditated annihilation of at least 70,000 Tamil civilians in 2009, openly attacked Muslims and Tamils and reassured the Maha Sangha, the Buddhist peak body, that he will not allow the privileged position of Buddhism to be undermined.
Mahinda was president from 2005 to 2015. War crimes, crimes against humanity, disappearances of critics, attacks on journalists and land grabbing were defining elements of his rule. During this period he was accused of corruption and nepotism, his family members controlling a majority of key ministerial posts. There were shocking allegations that Rajapaksa was skimming up to 50 percent in private commissions from multimillion-dollar infrastructure deals with China, and had hundreds of relatives and friends siphoning millions from public funds. His family’s wealth reportedly grew by US$800 million when he signed off on key development projects.
He was defeated by his former ally and cabinet minister Maithripala Sirisena, who was backed by Western countries and won the election with the support of Tamils and Muslims. Last year, Mahinda’s younger brother Gotabhaya was the favoured candidate of hardline Sinhala nationalists and won the support of the overwhelming majority of the Sinhala population in the south. Last week’s election results mean Sri Lanka may now fall under another authoritarian era in which the Rajapaksa family cements its rule on the island for generations to come. 
In the Tamil-majority areas in the north and east of the island, the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) suffered losses, reducing its parliamentary representation from sixteen to ten. The Tamil National People’s Front, led by Gajendrakumar Ponnambalam, who left the TNA in 2010 in protest over its relationship with Western governments, won two seats for the first time. And the newly formed Tamil People’s National Alliance, led by former Northern Provincial Council Chief Minister C.V. Wigneswaran, won one seat. The Eelam People’s Democratic Party and the Tamil Makkal Viduthalai Pulikal (Tamil Peoples Liberation Tigers, founded as a collaborationist splinter from the Tamil Tigers in 2004), which are allied with Rajapaksa’s SLPP, also gained representation, including the election of Sivanesathurai Chandrakanthan, who is currently in prison for his involvement in the assassination of former TNA MP Joseph Pararajasingham.
The TNA, which is a coalition of Tamil nationalist parties, is facing a split after its election losses. Prior to the election, there were accusations of corruption and allegations that the alliance was damping the Tamil national struggle to serve the interests of Western countries. Tamil parties that challenged the TNA’s dominance used the regional politics of nationalism and religion to win support. The outcome is the most divided election results we have witnessed in the north and east. Eleven years after the military defeat of Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, there is no leadership, and people are sick of the nationalist parties with their bankrupt politics. 
Sri Lankan society today is weighed down by more than 70 years of Sinhala chauvinist politics. The only way forward is for all oppressed groups on the island to understand each other’s plight and unite in struggle. The oppression of Plantation Tamils can’t be understood without an understanding of the oppression of Eelam Tamils. The oppression of Muslims can’t be understood without an understanding of Sinhala Buddhist nationalism. The oppressed groups have a complex relationship but, ultimately, the working class—made up of all the exploited and oppressed on the island—has the power to challenge the system that has created so much suffering on the island while making only a few families incredibly rich.

The return of Mahinda Rajapaksa points to another era of Sri Lankan authoritarianism

A Federal Court ruling today that a two-year-old Tamil child was “not afforded procedural fairness” is a small victory for a refugee family from Biloela, Queensland, and an acknowledgement that they have been poorly treated by the federal government. An injunction against their deportation remains in place.
But Justice Mark Moshinsky also ruled that Tharunicaa did not have the right to have her application for asylum automatically assessed. She and her sister Kopika were both born here. Their parents, Priya and Nades, met in Australia after arriving as asylum seekers. 
The family is still in a legal battle to be returned to their home. They have been detained for more than two years – first in Melbourne and on Christmas Island since August last year – after they were taken from their home in an early morning raid. Tharunicaa and Kopika are wasting away in detention. They are confused and scared on Christmas Island. They are not eating properly. 
The government has spent millions of dollars attempting to deport the family to Sri Lanka, where Tamil people face ongoing persecution. 
In the current pandemic situation, international travel across the world has been severely restricted. Governments everywhere are dealing with major health and economic crises. Australia is no different. Devoting so many resources to deporting this one family not only imperils their future, it is a waste of taxpayer money – legal fees, staff at the Christmas Island detention centre, a charter flight to take them to Sri Lanka – that could be spent protecting lives and livelihoods in this current crisis.
Right now, the whole world is focused on saving lives. Yet our government remains focused on destroying the lives of this family. This must end. It’s time for the government to let them live in peace. It should concentrate on the pandemic and leave this family alone.
--------------------
Priya fled Sri Lanka after witnessing her fiancé burned alive by the Sri Lankan Army. She and Nades have well-founded fears for their safety if they are deported back into the hands of the Sri Lankan government.
The situation in the country continues to deteriorate for Tamils. The landslide victory of new president Gotabaya Rajapaksa in last November’s elections is just one example. Gotabaya oversaw the mass killings of Tamils and the operations of paramilitary death squads as Defence Secretary in 2009. As Human Rights Watch South Asia Director Meenakshi Ganguly <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/01/10/sri-lanka-repeal-abusive-counterterrorism-law">noted in January</a>: “Gotabaya Rajapaksa and senior appointees linked to wartime abuses are wasting no time dismantling the human rights gains of recent years”.
Douglas Devanada, a former paramilitary leader, has been appointed to Gotabaya’s cabinet. Devanada trafficked vulnerable Tamil children into forced labour and child prostitution under Gotabaya’s watch, <a href="https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/07COLOMBO728_a.html">according to US diplomatic sources</a>. And Gotabaya recently pardoned Sri Lankan soldier Sunil Rathnayake for the <a href="https://www.tamilnet.com/art.html?catid=79&amp;artid=37829">brutal torture and massacre of eight Tamils</a>, including three teenagers and a five-year-old child. The eight were returning to inspect their homes after being displaced by war. 
The Sri Lankan government is committed to maintaining the military occupation in Tamil-majority areas in the north and east of Sri Lanka, as well as the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act. 
Ben Emmerson, former UN Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of human rights while countering terrorism, <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/ASA3797702019ENGLISH.PDF">noted</a>: “All the evidence points to the fact that the use of torture was ‘routine and endemic’ against people held under the deeply-flawed Prevention of Terrorism Act. The Tamil community has borne the brunt of the state’s well-oiled torture apparatus, as the law is used disproportionately against them”.
Aran Mylvaganam is a spokesperson for the Tamil Refugee Council.

Small victory for Biloela refugee family, but the fight isn’t over

A riot in Yongah Hill in Western Australia has again highlighted the appalling conditions in asylum seeker detention centres.
A suicide attempt by a 22-year-old Iraqi refugee, Saruuan Aljhelie, on 2 September resulted in protests and the burning of mattresses. Several days later, Saruuan died in hospital.
I have been visiting detention centres for more than nine years and have watched as conditions have deteriorated. Under the Labor government, a point system was introduced to maintain “order” in these prisons. When refugees failed to participate in an activity and disobeyed orders, points were taken away from them. They were then denied certain things – cigarettes to relieve the stress or a phone card to talk to their relatives, for example. 
Under the Coalition government this system has morphed into more complex forms of punishment. A refugee who talks back to a guard might be transferred to a detention centre in another part of the country – sometimes thousands of miles away and far removed from the support network they may have formed while in detention.
That’s what happened to Saruuan Aljhelie. He was reportedly moved from Sydney to Perth several weeks ago, away from his family and two young daughters. 
The threat of transfer or deportation, combined with the occasional racist comments from white guards, sexual harassment and a lack of care by the medical staff and impatient immigration officers, keeps the refugees in a very difficult situation. To make matters worse, we have had immigration ministers who have openly declared war on refugees.
I still remember the death of Shooty, an ASIO-rejected Tamil refugee in Sydney. He died after committing suicide in October 2011. Some refugees who took their lives were encouraged by the detention centre guards to jump off the roof to their death. 
The death of Reza Berati on Manus Island should have resulted in criminal charges against then immigration minister Scott Morrison. But the immunity enjoyed by our politicians helps them to get away with the violence they order in the name of “border protection”. 
The comments and commentary by our elected representatives – every statement questioning the legitimacy of asylum seekers’ claims or, worse, the statements maligning them as criminals – have contributed to the deaths and self-harm attempts by refugees in our detention centres. 
This is generally overlooked by our political system. We are asked to forgive the politicians because they supposedly are making “tough” decisions for worthy ends.
There are refugees who have been detained for more than nine years. Every time I visit them, they talk in code because they fear that the government will punish them further if they openly say negative things about their life in detention. 
Refugees in detention know that even a small mistake could lead to a transfer away from their friends in detention or deportation to danger. 
Why, then, would they riot?
Refugees are struggling for their freedom. But they are also struggling for survival. This is a battle against the thought of self-harm and suicide. 
In April 2011, I visited a group of Tamil asylum seekers indefinitely detained in the Broadmeadows detention centre in Melbourne. This was after an attempted suicide by another refugee. They didn’t want me to leave – they feared themselves, not knowing whether they would survive the next day. 
Perhaps at Yongah Hill, after so long, some decided that enough was enough. Perhaps people overcame their fears of the state and the punishment and took on their mighty enemy. 
We should defend the rioting refugees. And we should intensify our campaigns to expose the violence of the state.
After all, a few burned buildings is nothing compared to the scarred souls and lost lives that the government is responsible for.

Rioting refugees should be defended

We have lost a friend, comrade and fighter for social justice.
Trevor Grant, who died on 5 March after battling mesothelioma, was best known as an accomplished journalist. He wrote for many publications in a career spanning 40 years. A former colleague, the Herald Sun’s John Anderson, described him as “one of Australia’s finest sportswriters of his time”.
And he was more than that; he was one of the finest people you could know.
I first met Trevor in 2012, at 3CR Community Radio on Smith Street. He was undertaking programmers’ training in anticipation of hosting a new show, What’s the $core Sport? Trevor was a sports enthusiast, an avid golfer and a member of the Collingwood Football Club to the end. But he cringed at the profiteering so frequently visible at the highest levels of professional sport. He believed that human values, and the lives of athletes, too often were sacrificed on the altar of success – and, ultimately, the altar of profit.
Trevor’s world view had been shaped by his father, who was a member of the Communist Party. “Accumulation of wealth on one end”, Trevor often said, “is equal to accumulation of misery on the other end”. He grew more radical with age, rather than more conservative. In retirement, most settle down and smell the roses; Trevor joined the socialists and paid dues to the CFMEU.
The Australian government’s treatment of refugees he found particularly detestable. He dedicated himself to the fight for refugee rights, regularly visiting the Broadmeadows detention centre and becoming involved in Melbourne’s Tamil community. He was tireless in the work of drawing greater attention to the plight of Tamil Eelam, and became spokesperson for the Tamil Refugee Council.
In late 2012, Trevor floated the idea of a boycott campaign against the Sri Lankan cricket team. I was sceptical. Two years earlier, I had tried this avenue of public relations. I felt that 20 of us standing outside the MCG as tens of thousands walked right by us to watch the game did not make for particularly effective campaigning.
But Trevor told us about his media and sporting connections; he had networks, he said. It wasn’t long before we were making the front pages of the Age and the Sydney Morning Herald. Support started coming in from various organisations and individuals. Tamils in the diaspora – still reeling from the Rajapaksa regime’s brutalities in 2009 and the international community’s ongoing support for the Sri Lankan government – all of a sudden were full of hope.
Trevor built on this work, highlighting the plight of individual refugees as the Department of Immigration deported hundreds of Tamils back to danger in Sri Lanka. In early 2013, he led the Tamil Freedom Ride to Adelaide. It was a great example of how, despite being few in number, you can still have an effective campaign. His journalist friends had always poked fun at his short stature, but Trevor knew the art of punching above your weight.
He was always involved in the hands-on work, writing press releases, organising protests, making speeches, visiting people here and overseas and founding Refugee Radio, again at 3CR.
In 2013, refugees released into the community were being denied settlement support. We found people in houses around the city sleeping on floors. A dozen refugees in Mill Park were surviving on biscuits because they couldn’t afford a trip to the supermarket. Trevor would drive an old van around town, dropping off furniture. We found a woman, Hanel Akbari, and her husband Luhru, refugees from Iran, sleeping on the floor of a rental property in the south-east. Hanel was seven months pregnant. Trevor bought her a bed, baby items and a pram.
Again he used his media contacts to draw attention to the situation. This led to Tamil Refugee Council being flooded with donations. Trevor and Bill Deller, a well-known trade unionist and activist, along with others, founded a new organisation, Friends of Refugees, to handle the support from the community and help refugees with their welfare needs.
Trevor met a Tamil refugee in Sydney who had a USB stick containing more than 700 photos documenting the genocide being carried out in Tamil Eelam. This led to the book Sri Lanka’s Secrets: How the Rajapaksa Regime gets away with murder. While in hospital, Trevor told me that he “nearly fell off the chair” when researching the work.
Trevor’s contributions to the refugee rights campaign in Australia are too numerous to document. But his activism was not confined to this area. For many years, he took part in the run for Palestine. He contributed to the campaign for West Papuan self-determination. Trevor was heartbroken by the treatment of Aboriginal people, and buoyed by the growth in recent years of Invasion Day protests, led by the Warriors of Aboriginal Resistance. He was passionate about workers’ rights and gave me ideas about how to organise workplaces in my role as an organiser for the Finance Sector Union. “Aran, how many people did you recruit today?”, he frequently asked.
Late last year, Trevor told a friend, “I accept that I am dying so I can go on living”. He never threw in the towel. In his final days, he loved talking to his daughter about politics. Ultimately, he yearned for revolution.
The last time I saw Trevor, he was happy. I bought fruit, picked up his laundry and laid it out. He said he had a month left to live. As I was walking out the door, headed for Geneva to continue the advocacy work of which he was so vital a part, he asked, “When will I see you next?”
“Soon”, I said. But the month he estimated turned out to be days.
Trevor was the most important person in my life, someone who opened my eyes to the root causes of oppression and how to fight them. We had known each other less than three years when he travelled to Chennai, Tamil Nadu, to be best man at my wedding in January 2015.
He loved his children Caroline and Matthew and his grandson Oliver, who is just four months old. They have lost a father and grandfather. I have lost a great friend and comrade.
And the cause for a better world has lost one of its true champions.
[A memorial celebration of Trevor Grant will be held at Melbourne Trades Hall on Saturday 18 March. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1828366450713609/">See event page for details</a>.]

The forgotten genocide—fifteen years on from Mullivaikkal

Charged for protesting for refugee rights

End the bipartisan torture of refugees

No-one is free until everyone is free

The return of Mahinda Rajapaksa points to another era of Sri Lankan authoritarianism

Small victory for Biloela refugee family, but the fight isn’t over

Rioting refugees should be defended

Trevor Grant, 1951-2017

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