Defence Is Not Militarism
A serious country has security needs. That should be admitted honestly.
Borders exist. Violence exists. Predators exist. States have duties. A country cannot survive only on soft language, incense, ceremony, memory, and beautiful slogans.
But defence is not militarism.
Defence is reluctant. Militarism is hungry.
Defence protects life because life is precious. Militarism trains people to obey violence and then calls that obedience virtue.
Defence should be accountable, civilian-controlled, limited, disciplined, and morally burdened by the harm it may cause. Militarism turns the uniform into a sacred costume. It turns suspicion into wisdom. It turns young men’s bodies into national property. It turns refusal into shame. It turns war preparation into manhood.
That distinction matters in Sri Lanka.
We cannot pretend every security concern is fake. But we also cannot pretend every appeal to security is clean. Power loves hiding inside emergency language. It loves saying “nation” when it means obedience. It loves saying “unity” when it means silence. It loves saying “heritage” when it means hierarchy.
The danger is not the existence of defence.
The danger is when defence becomes a religion of its own.
Then the state does not merely ask citizens to protect life.
It asks them to worship the machinery of harm.