“The 2015 government did give us a little space. That doesn't mean that Muslim women, and indeed women of this country are going to get anything be it from Mahinda Rajapaksa, Ranil Wickremesinghe or Sirisena,” Shreen Saroor says. A long-term activist for reform of the Muslim Marriage and Divorce Act (MMDA) she notes that greater freedom has yet to solidify into an actual amendment that will be submitted for debate before Parliament.

“Engagement [with Parliament] opened up for us during Wickremesinghe’s tenure as Prime Minister, I doubt we will be able to do that under a Rajapaksa-led regime.”

Under both political parties, Saroor says, activists pushing for MMDA reform have faced threats of violence from conservative Muslim groups. That pressure increased with anti-Muslim sentiment under the Rajapaksa government, which aligned itself with a growing Sinhala nationalist movement. Muslim conservatives turned on MMDA activists for “attacking” the Muslim community and supposedly siding with anti-Muslim extremists like Bodu Bala Sena.

However, post-2015, Muslim women mobilised, protesting and testifying at Parliament committee hearings and consultations on constitutional reform and violence against women. “Wherever possible, the affected community is raising the issue,” Saroor says.

As before, victims and advocates faced threats, as did their own children, friends, and coworkers. Some had to limit their activism in response. Nevertheless, Saroor says, “At least during Ranil Wickremesinghe's time, [Muslim women] were prepared to take that risk because they felt that taking that risk will not lead to their death.”

Now, the danger is that women activists have been identified as moving targets. They working in areas ranging from MMDA reform to issues like land seizure, enforced disappearances, and political prisoners. Many of them are based in the North and East. “The surveillance never went away, but it was slightly muted,” Saroor says. “Now they have information on people who are frontline activists and members of the community who are able to mobilise... people who are leaders.”

Since the local authority elections in February, Saroor says she has seen an increase in threats and surveillance against activists and witnesses. Post-2015, activists had become more confrontational with the CID and had even made complaints to the Human Rights Commission. “During the Rajapaksa [time] we never confronted them,” Saroor says. But now those who did have been told, “you’re going to pay the price.”

“'Our king has come back', a CID officer told one activist. 'So where will you go and hide now'?”

With the political crisis persisting, concerns around security have only grown. Some people have begun to censor themselves; in the case of the Mannar mass grave, Saroor says people have become reluctant to assist the Office on Missing Persons in working to identify the remains discovered on-site.

During the Rajapaksa era, the LGBTIQ+ rights group EQUAL GROUND and its Executive Director Rosanna Flamer-Caldera were under constant watch. Her name and photograph were displayed in a police presentation accusing her organisation of causing an uptick in child abuse by “spreading homosexuality.” The CID raided the office of a partner organization, seizing information on EQUAL GROUND.

“[The CID] knew what time I came into the office. Our phones were bugged. You could hear the clicking sounds. It was subtle intimidation, but this was in a culture where people were just picked up off the street. So it was a bit unsettling to say the least.”

While LGBTIQ+ activists remained cautious after January 2015, they participated in discussions on constitutional reform especially on the removal of Sections 365 and 365A of the Penal Code which criminalises homosexual acts. They also advocated more openly against the harassment, violence, and discrimination of the community.

To Flamer-Caldera, the recent constitutional crisis brings the risk of a return to the earlier days of fear. It also brought a reminder that homophobia remains a potent political force when President Sirisena called Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe’s government a gang of “butterflies,” ('samanalaya', the Sinhalese word for butterfly, is a slur used against the gay community) to laughter and applause from his audience at an SLFP rally.

While she is personally “not a fan” of Wickremesinghe, Caldera says the UNP has been much more open, compared to the SLFP, which was highly vocal against LGBTIQ+ rights and used rhetoric in the 2015 election about stopping “ponnayas” from running the country.

“At the end of the day, it's time for a political change, not just an ordinary political change, but a political change that will steer away from the cronyism, the patriarchy, the corruption, the apathy.”

Sandhya Eknaligoda, who has been fighting for justice for her disappeared husband Prageeth, says the era of “ruin” that existed before 2015 has returned. “We are back to a time of fear, fear for our lives and for our property,” the activist said. “What will happen now to the cases that we could only take up after Rajapaksa was voted out?”

While acknowledging that it was only post-2015 that investigations into these cases could take place, Sandhya notes that the legal proceedings have been slow. “Some ask if I am worried now, after October 26, but I’ve had threats even during “yahapaalanaya.”’

Threats to her life and work did not cease after 2015. “The military men show up at all my court dates, offering me “information that could topple a country” if I withdrew the case.” She even notes the intimidation and thorough questioning she was routinely and repeatedly subjected to by those within the legal system.

Information pertaining to Eknaligoda’s case, when requested from the CID, has yet to be handed over by the Army two years later, with Sirisena himself telling the tri-forces not to give information to the CID. When Galagodaaththe Gnanasara was arrested for threatening Sandhya in court, a coordinated hate campaign was launched against her on social media. ‘Ulapane Sumangala, who advises the President, is also involved in the campaign’, Sandhya noted at a press conference in regard to the violence. She filed a complaint with the CID, as the threats made towards her and her children included hate speech and graphic violence, including death threats. She has made several public calls to Sirisena and Wickremesinghe, to ensure the safety of her children, yet she notes that there has never been a response to her pleas.

Three weeks into the political crisis, backlash arose around the attempted transfer of the key investigator in Prageeth’s case, Inspector Nishantha Silva, on ‘service requirements’. In a damning letter to Sirisena, Ahimsa, the daughter of journalist Lasantha Wickrematunge, details how ‘at least two cooperating suspects-turned‐witnesses have told the CID that the abduction and murder of Eknaligoda was carried out on the instructions of then Defence Secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa’. This was all uncovered during Silva’s investigations into the case.

Though the transfer was swiftly halted, Sandhya notes that those in power are still trying to influence the legal system to ensure that cases such as hers drag on, with little resolve.

“If Rajapaksa returns to power, all those around him who are responsible for crimes will never be punished; their henchmen still roam free, and will never be held accountable for their actions.”

She has some hope, however, that institutions and attitudes will outlast the politicians who claim them.

“Yahapaalanaya is not Maithri and Ranil. While their regime may have laid the groundwork, it is not something that should be seen as belonging to either of them."

For activists based in the North, the sense of uncertainty that October 26 brought is one that has been brewing for a while. “We are not happy with progress on the issues concerning the Tamil community,” says Rajany, a women’s rights activist who works in Jaffna. She is worried, however, for the safety of those she works with.

Though land release to civilian owners took place post-2015, the military remains a looming presence across the province. Activists, journalists and those associating with them have remained under a degree of surveillance, even after Rajapaksa’s tenure. There have been consistent reports of journalists being barred from certain areas, or questioned for covering events. This is despite the promises of demilitarisation and media freedom that Sirisena espoused during his election and 100-day campaign.

Rajany’s main concerns for safety are the women leading the protests by the families of the disappeared. Female activists in this space have come under assault and threat even in 2018. Sirisena himself has discredited their cause as one supported by ‘NGOs’, despite their persistence in remaining on the road for more than a year. Her second concern is for former LTTE combatants now living in the North; they have been constantly subject to a degree of surveillance, that never abated after 2015.

The relief that came about in January 2015, with Sirisena’s election, was almost reversed on October 26; the possibility of Mahinda Rajapaksa returning to power brought back tangible fears for both activists on the ground, and the general populace that live in war-affected areas.

“The land issues, the disappearances, there were many promises made but not much has moved forward”. The failure of the Yahapaalanaya government to deliver on the sweeping promises it made catalysed the distrust that people had towards state institutions, and those purporting to represent them. Rajapaksa’s illegal appointment has cemented that.

“We need a government that, while addressing needs of all citizens, is committed to minority rights”.

Rajany says. “While they must serve all communities, they must work on the issues that the Tamil and Muslims face with extra care, when we look at the situations they are facing today.”

“Although the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe government tried to engage with activists, and broadly civil society, it was also visible that they did not seem to be taking them too seriously."

Human rights activist Ruki Fernando notes the little action taken on recommendations made in the lengthy report of the Consultation Task Force on Reconciliation Mechanisms, which the State itself set up. There has been limited progress on investigations into army personnel in cases of murder and abuse, the release of some political prisoners, and the freeing of a few areas in the North from military control after long and arduous protests.

But those cases are exceptions, rather than the rule. The president publicly opposed investigating the military for rights violations, including war crimes. Activists, witnesses, and victims have still faced threats. Claims of openness at the beginning of the government’s term were followed by moves toward suppression, such as the proposal to surveil and regulate all non-governmental organizations and the still-repressive provisions of the proposed Counter Terrorism Act.

Fernando points out that both political parties have a varied history with oppression and openness. Just as the 2015 coalition government promised a respite from the repression of the Rajapaksa government, the 1995 SLFP government was seen as a shift toward greater democracy and freedom after the harsh UNP regime of the eighties.

“The repressive nature of the Rajapaksas is very fresh in our minds, including for me, because it was a few years ago. But the repressive nature of the UNP, under J. R. Jayawardena, R. Premadasa, and Wickremesinghe too, are kind of a distant memory, several decades ago. But either of them could harm us.”

The true gains of the 'yahapalanaya' era, Fernando says, are in the strengthening of social mobilisation of affected people—from communities facing land seizure to families of the disappeared, trade unionists and student groups. The limited independence of government bodies like the National Human Rights Commission, the Right to Information Commission, and the judiciary, brought about in part by the 19th Amendment to the constitution, were also instrumental in maintaining a form of checks and balances on the state.

“I think we must use this opportunity while we have slightly more breathing space to wage our battles for human rights and social justice, strengthen ourselves, and try to keep our momentum even when the screws are tightening around us.”