It is historically understandable that many Buddhists in Sri Lanka and Myanmar feel threatened: there have been violent Islamist attacks and demographic anxieties, and a Pew Research Center piece, “Buddhism, Islam and Religious Pluralism in South and Southeast Asia” (September 12, 2023), shows religion is tightly woven into identity.
The general view, though, is that proportionate state action against violent extremists is justified; but majority-led nationalist movements that stigmatize, exclude or violently target entire Muslim communities are not justified—legally, strategically, or ethically. They damage social cohesion, provide fodder for real extremists, and leave societies less safe in the long run.
There should not be any issues with the first part of this view. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), better known as the “Tamil Tigers,” had a long and bloody war with the Sri Lankan army. Many Sri Lankan Tamils were displaced. Many would say that the action the Sri Lankan army took was justified. However, the conflict between the LTTE and the Sri Lankan state was never a Hindu vs. Buddhist fight—and framing it that way is historically inaccurate and academically misleading. The conflict was about ethno-political rights, language discrimination, and autonomy—not religion.
When you look at the history of the so-called Buddhist-Islamic “feud” in Sri Lanka, it is not so at all. Religion—the intolerance shown by nearly all Muslims, and their inability to co-exist or culturally assimilate with the host country—is the key there.
Here are the approximate percentages of different religions in Sri Lanka (based on recent census / reliable data): Buddhism: ~70.2%, Hinduism: ~12.6%, Islam (Muslim): ~9.7%, Christianity: ~7.4% (mostly Roman Catholic). The rest are “others.” So why are the Muslims singled out as trouble-makers? The reason is very clear for those who have not put on blinkers.
The April 2019 Easter attacks that killed 269 people—mostly Christians—were carried out by a Sri Lankan extremist group (National Thowheeth Jama’ath) with claimed or possible ISIS ties. That attack was a rare but devastating example of Islamist terrorism on Sri Lankan soil and created profound national trauma and security concerns.
Islamist extremists in these countries are relatively small in number and geographically limited. Their presence creates real security problems, but a greater issue is that they are the dominant voice in Islam, and the so-called “moderate” Islamic people cannot or do not speak out against them. They easily radicalize the youth, spread their influence through mosques, and strike whenever they find an opening. The end aim is always jihad; and there is consensus among Islamic scholars that the concept of jihad will always include armed struggle against wrongdoers, and anyone who does not follow Islam is a wrongdoer by that account. No Muslim may deny this.
Empowering moderate Buddhist leaders and moderate Muslim voices to delegitimize violent narratives is mostly a stillborn initiative, because the moderate face of Islam has always been a sham.
A state is justified in using proportionate measures to prevent and respond to violent extremism (intelligence, arrests of militants, prosecution). The 2019 Easter bombings and ARSA attacks show the security threat is not purely theoretical. It is easy to say that justified responses must operate under rule of law, with fair trials and protections for civilians; repressive, discriminatory laws that target entire religious communities are inconsistent with constitutional norms and international human rights. Pew’s data showing religion-state integrationism means legal reforms risk being skewed toward majoritarian preferences unless safeguards are enforced; but when the minority are the Islamic people, majoritarian preference has to be given precedence.
Improving intelligence cooperation, community policing, and judicial capacity; arresting and prosecuting violent actors; keeping constant vigil—that is the price Israel pays, and that is the price any country where there is a sizable Muslim population must be prepared to pay. Empowering moderate Buddhist leaders and moderate Muslim voices to delegitimize violent narratives is mostly a stillborn initiative, because the moderate face of Islam has always been a sham.
Galagoda Aththe Gnanasara Thera is the most well-known hard-line Buddhist monk in Sri Lanka today. He has made so-called inflammatory, actually very prescient, remarks about Islam in the past; in 2016, for example, he reportedly described Islam as a “cancer that must be eradicated.” in 2025, he made claims (during a YouTube interview) about “suicide fighters” infiltrating the Sri Lankan government. Like Ashin Wirathu of Myanmar, Gnanasara articulates a majoritarian Buddhist nationalism. They argue that Buddhism and Sinhala-ness are under threat, especially from Muslims, and they mobilize public fear and identity. A point to be noted is that he has never held this to be at all true about the sizable Hindu population in Sri Lanka.
Through the JHU and coalitions, Buddhist nationalist monks in Sri Lanka directly enter political life—much more formally than in some other Buddhist-majority contexts. These nationalist monks sometimes enjoy political support (or toleration) from powerful political leaders, which helps them exercise influence beyond just monastic circles. They are not doing it out of self-aggrandizement but because they urgently feel that the threat from Islam is very real, and yapping at the heels.
Galagoda uses his position in BBS (Bodu Bala Sena) to campaign aggressively against what he calls the rise of “Muslim extremism.” He has called for “one law” in Sri Lanka, while some critics have said it implicitly criticizes religious pluralism and minority rights—but look at India and its struggle to have a Universal Civil Code imposed out of similar necessities. Meanwhile, BBS has been directed against Muslims predominantly, and occasionally against Christian evangelists trying to convert Buddhists.
Gnanasara has been incarcerated several times for anti-Muslim remarks; but he was appointed by former President Gotabaya Rajapaksa as Chairman of a “Presidential Task Force for One Country, One Law.” He also made serious charges, alleging that USAID funded NGOs to undermine Sinhala-Buddhist forces. Here there is a clear parallel with Sir Lanka’s much larger neighbour India, which had to pass stringent laws to limit the deleterious influences of many NGOs.
Gnanasara Thera has become a symbol of militant Sinhalese-Buddhist nationalism. Critics argue that his rhetoric has contributed to polarization and violence. Supporters claim he is defending Buddhist heritage and Sinhalese identity from perceived external threats.
In the Buddhist-majority countries, very large majorities of Buddhists see religion as central to their national identity. For instance, 95% of Sri Lankan Buddhists say being Buddhist is important to being “truly Sri Lankan.” Many Buddhists don’t treat their religion purely as a belief system—they also see it as culture, family tradition, and even an ethnicity.
In Cambodia, 76% of Buddhists say being born Buddhist is part of their identity. A strong proportion of Buddhists in Cambodia (75%), and Sri Lanka (72%), are what Pew calls “religion-state integrationists”—meaning they support basing national laws on Buddhist teachings (dharma). Unlike in some Western contexts, economic growth in these Asian countries does not strongly equate to secularization. Religion remains a core part of life, even as societies modernize.
Galagoda Aththe Gnanasara Thera will likely remain a contentious figure in Sri Lankan history—often criticized for his sharp rhetoric, yet also recognized for raising issues that many preferred to ignore. In a period when global Islamist militancy was rising, he voiced anxieties present among sections of the Sinhala Buddhist majority who felt politically sidelined or culturally insecure.
His methods were frequently termed as divisive, but his interventions forced the country to engage with questions of national identity, legal uniformity, foreign influence, and long-term social cohesion. In this sense, his impact lay not in providing solutions, but in compelling society to confront concerns it might otherwise have suppressed.
After the Easter Sunday attacks of 2019, his warnings could no longer be dismissed, and a broader public debate emerged over how to balance vigilance with inclusivity. The challenge ahead is not to silence uncomfortable voices, but to cultivate wiser ones—encouraging leaders who can protect cultural identity without hatred and uphold security without prejudice.
If Sri Lanka learns from this moment, Gnanasara Thera’s legacy may serve as a reminder that democracies must address fear openly rather than let it harden into extremism. His story shows the need for moral leadership—firm, fair, and deeply rooted in ethical responsibility.
