Between Two Wars: The Child Soldier Who Became A Double Agent—and Now Fights Extremism – Interview
Kagusthan Ariaratnam on being conscripted by the LTTE, life in exile, and why ideas—not weapons—are the key to ending extremism
Born in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, Kagusthan Ariaratnam was abducted at seventeen by the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) and forced into the life of a child soldier and intelligence operative during one of South Asia’s most violent insurgencies. Decades later, he lives in Canada, where he works in counter-extremism and open-source intelligence — drawing on his extraordinary past to prevent others from falling into cycles of radicalisation.
In this conversation with EurAsia Review, Kagusthan reflects on his years inside the LTTE, the trauma of survival, and how he now channels his experiences into education, research, and advocacy against violent extremism.
Aritra Banerjee (AB): Kagusthan, could you begin by telling us about your early life and what Sri Lanka was like when you were growing up?
Kagusthan Ariaratnam (KA): I’m a 51-year-old Canadian of Sri Lankan Tamil origin. I lived in Sri Lanka until I was 25 and came to Canada in September 1997. At seventeen, I was a mathematics student who wanted to become an engineer like my father. But the Tamil Tigers forcibly recruited me. That moment destroyed every dream I had.
Sri Lanka was divided and tense. After independence in 1948, successive governments passed policies that marginalised Tamils politically, economically and culturally. Peaceful protests were ignored, and by 1983, open war had erupted. In Jaffna, where I grew up, bombings, shelling and air raids became everyday life. Every home had a bunker. Childhood was defined by fear.
The Tamil Question
AB: For readers unfamiliar with Sri Lanka’s history, what does it mean to be Tamil in that context?
KA: Tamils are a Dravidian people with roots stretching back thousands of years in South India and northern Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka, we make up around 15 per cent of the population, while the Sinhalese—largely Buddhist—comprise roughly 75 per cent. Tamils are mostly Hindu, with smaller Christian and Muslim minorities.
Despite our long history, Tamils in Sri Lanka faced decades of systemic discrimination. A Sinhala-Buddhist nationalist ideology, often called the Mahavamsa mindset, came to dominate the state. It privileged the majority and sidelined minorities, making equality almost impossible. That injustice is what drove many towards the idea of Tamil Eelam—an independent homeland.
A Just Cause, Abhorrent Methods
AB: You’ve said Tamil Eelam remains the only just solution. Did you see the LTTE as liberators or terrorists at the time?
KA: When you live under oppression, those who resist it look like saviours. But over time, my view changed. The Tamil cause was just; the LTTE’s methods were abhorrent.
The Tigers built a de facto state—with their own army, navy, rudimentary air wing, police, and even a currency—but they also used suicide bombings and assassinations, including against Tamil leaders. That’s why the United States, India, Canada, and the European Union eventually listed them as a terrorist organisation.
Former President Chandrika Kumaratunga, who survived an assassination attempt, said the Tigers were the symptom, not the disease. She was right. Militancy grows out of injustice; eliminating fighters doesn’t remove the grievance that created them.
From Student to Spy
AB: How did recruitment happen?
KA: It wasn’t a choice. The LTTE enforced an unwritten rule that every family must contribute one member to the war. As the eldest son, I was targeted.
I first joined the Students’ Organisation of Liberation Tigers (SOLT), which handled propaganda and logistics. During one raid, nineteen of us were taken to the battlefield to move ammunition and carry the wounded. I saw mutilated bodies, children my age dying in front of me. Those images stay forever.
Later, in 1991, I was shifted to the LTTE’s intelligence wing, where I was told I could “use my brain rather than my brawn.” From 1992 to 1995, I handled intelligence for the Sea Tigers and Air Tigers—their naval and air units. That assignment probably saved my life, but it made me part of their war machine.
Threats, Coercion and Escape
AB: What kept you from leaving?
KA: Fear. The Tigers ruled through intimidation and control. They threatened us constantly—and our families too. We were ordered to keep tabs on our own people, even the Tamil diaspora, to ensure financial support. It was immoral, but refusal meant prison or execution.
AB: You eventually defected in 1995. What pushed you to take that risk?
KA: India’s external intelligence agency, R&AW, had infiltrated the LTTE after the assassination of Rajiv Gandhi. A handler blackmailed me into cooperating by exploiting a personal relationship that broke the Tigers’ code of conduct. About a year later, the LTTE uncovered the R&AW network. I knew discovery meant death. So I confessed and then was sentenced to infiltrate the Sri Lankan military posing as a defector. The LTTE even placed me on the “Black Tigers” list—the suicide squad.
In June 1995, I surrendered to Sri Lankan security forces and offered intelligence assistance. Professor Rohan Gunaratna later helped secure my release and documentation. By September 1997, I was free and left for Canada, a voyage covertly aided by one of India’s top spymaster Shri B. Raman, who came out of the shadows to save my life from the terror and horror in Sri Lanka.
Exile and an Invisible Prison
AB: You’ve said that even in Canada, you weren’t truly free.
KA: That’s right. I was pressured to monitor Tamil diaspora activities for Sri Lankan interests under threat of harm. It was an invisible prison—silence, fear, and paranoia.
When the MV Ocean Lady arrived in Canada in 2009 with Tamil asylum seekers, the government immediately suspected they were former rebels. I testified in court to explain what those people had escaped—decades of coercion and conflict. My testimony wasn’t about defending or accusing anyone; it was about context. Speaking under oath was my way of making amends and reclaiming agency after years of being used as a pawn.
From Counterterrorism to Counter-Extremism
AB: You’ve since assisted Canadian authorities and founded Project O Five? Tell us about it.
KA: I’ve worked with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). My guiding belief is that counterterrorism must combine hard power—intelligence, law, and security—with soft power—education, culture, and civic engagement.
Project O Five, based in Ottawa, is a non-profit open-source intelligence (OSINT) initiative. We conduct research, threat briefs, and public awareness programmes on terrorism, radicalisation, and global security. I was inspired by Harvard scholar Joseph Nye’s concept of “smart power.” My own turning point came from music—A.R. Rahman’s Roja showed me that art can counter violence more effectively than weapons.
Preventing Extremism
AB: What do you believe actually works in preventing radicalisation?
KA: Start early and locally. Schools, universities, and communities must teach intercultural understanding and media literacy. Art, sports, and culture can be powerful counter-narratives—music, theatre, film and even soccer can shape perceptions before extremists do.
Each initiative must fit the community; there’s no one-size-fits-all model. Most importantly, address inequality and grievance. No one is born a terrorist—terrorism is the expression of unresolved pain and injustice. As Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” If we change ourselves, we can change others.
Cutting Off the Roots
AB: Finally, what lesson should the world take from your experience?
KA: No terrorist organisation can survive without state sponsorship. Funding, arming and harbouring offer safe havens to keep them alive. Groups like al-Qaeda, ISIS, Hamas, and Hizballah thrive because certain nations support them. The LTTE was defeated only after it was isolated internationally.
But force alone isn’t enough. As Roosevelt said, “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” We need both strength and empathy—hard and soft power together—to end extremism. Only then can we build a world where no child endures what I did.
