-By Special Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -08.April.2025, 11.00 PM) In a world where diaspora politics often resembles long-distance shadow boxing—equal parts strategy, nostalgia, and factional melodrama—the appointment of Charles Antonidas as Program Director of the Tamil Information Centre (TIC) feels less like a career shift and more like a historic callback. Or, depending on whom you ask, the Tamil community’s quiet way of saying: We’re back, and this time, we brought receipts.
The Tamil Information Centre, discreetly nestled in London, was once a buzzing centre where the archive of exile, evidence, and eloquence thrived. Founded by the late messrs K Kandasamy and V Varadakumar, who understood both the power of information and the weight of memory, TIC was once a lifeline for diasporic advocacy, international lobbying, and the painstaking documentation of wartime atrocities. Then came the lull—diaspora fatigue, post-war paralysis, and the long shadow of internal divisions.
Those who’ve watched Charles evolve know the arc well. A former student leader in London during the heyday of leftist internationalism, Charles was once the kind of man who could attend a protest at noon, debate on dialectics at three, and still make it to a human rights panel by dusk. Rumour has it he still owns a vintage Che Guevara T-shirt that predates TikTok.
But to reduce him to a mere campus crusader would be a grave misreading.
Charles was one of the few Tamil interlocutors to attend the Delhi talks and Thimphu peace talks in Bhutan during the 1984-1987—a gathering that most Sri Lankan youth now assume is a myth from political fairy tales. He was there not as a rebel, not as a government stooge, but as the rarest of species: a Tamil negotiator with a British postcode, a Batticaloa accent, a Sri Lankan passport and a moral compass of Frantz Fanon, Edward Said, et al.
Since then, he has moved deftly through the corridors of global diplomacy—sometimes as an activist, sometimes as a policy consultant, and increasingly, as a diaspora strategist with links across the world.
His recent political alignment with Sri Lanka's NPP movement—yes, that NPP—raised eyebrows in some circles and solidarity fists in others. There he was, standing shoulder to shoulder on the podium with President Anura Kumar at a pre-election rally in London, representing not just the Tamil Left diaspora, but a vision of progressive, pluralist politics in a nation too long divided by ethnicity and convenience.
In short: Charles is not new to the game. He helped design parts of the board.
For all its past glory, the Tamil Information Centre has slipped into dormancy in recent years. Many wondered whether it would ever regain its footing in the digital age, where activism is measured in hashtags and memory fades in the face of meme cycles.
But under Charles’s leadership, TIC is reportedly undergoing a radical relaunch: not just as an archive or advocacy platform, but as a multilingual, multi-generational legal and information hub. The goal? To reconnect the diaspora’s younger generation—more fluent in TikTok than Thimphu—with the enduring cause of Tamil justice.
According to insiders, Charles wants the TIC to reclaim its roots as a repository of legal evidence, particularly in cases like the Bindunuwewa massacre, where young Tamil children in a rehabilitation centre were allegedly attacked by mobs—an incident the Sri Lankan state continues to treat with its usual blend of selective amnesia and bureaucratic fog.
Back then, TIC worked with international organisations including White Pigeon, and with figures like Dr. Moorthy, and a coalition of students from Greenwich University, to gather evidence and pursue international legal channels.
With Charles back at the helm, word is that new efforts are underway to recompile, digitalise, and re-launch these campaigns—not just as memory, but as legal ammunition for future proceedings.
But Charles is not all tribunals and truth commissions. His recent work has focused significantly on psychosocial support within the Tamil diaspora—a subject usually lost somewhere between foreign remittances and diaspora weddings.
He’s been involved in quiet but critical work: tackling mental health stigma, access to NHS services, and building Tamil-language health awareness campaigns across London and beyond.
One insider from the UK Tamil Medical Association quipped, “Charles doesn’t just talk war trauma; he actually does something about it.”
Though based in London, Charles's reach is unmistakably pan-European. He’s had a finger in everything from EU human rights petitions to liaising with Scandinavian NGOs that once played a pivotal role in ceasefire monitoring in Sri Lanka.
With Sri Lanka's legal and political complexities increasingly becoming the subject of international accountability mechanisms, Charles may well position TIC as a bridge between civil society and global justice institutions.
He's said to be reviving dormant links with international think tanks, as well as Tamil political parties back home—not to endorse any one of them, but to ensure that diaspora voices don’t disappear into political quicksand.
What sets Charles apart isn’t merely his CV. It’s his ability to navigate the often paranoid labyrinth of diaspora politics without becoming a prisoner of its past.
He speaks at events organised by Tamil, Muslim and Sinhala activists. He was one of the founding members of Solidarity for Malayagam. He stood by Muslims during their times of trial. He debates with ex-combatants without flinching. He attends NPP meetings without hiding his Tamil nationalist convictions. And he does it all without accusing others of being “traitors” or “sellouts”—a refreshing departure from the usual Tamil Twitter discourse.
One colleague summarised it perfectly: “Charles doesn’t divide the diaspora. He designs spaces where we can argue without disintegrating.”
The Tamil Information Centre’s renaissance comes at a fragile but opportune moment. The Tamil struggle, while no longer front-page news, is far from over. The youth are curious but disengaged. The international community is willing but weary. And back home, reconciliation remains more of a slogan than a strategy.
Charles Antonidas may not be able to fix all of that. But if anyone can breathe fire back into a once-formidable institution while keeping both principle and pluralism intact—it’s probably him.
At the very least, Tamil Diaspora activism in London just got interesting again.
-By Special Correspondent
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by (2025-04-08 19:47:28)
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