Sri Lanka's parliamentary chambers echo with solemn declarations about justice, fairness, and the sacred presumption of innocence. Legislators rise to their feet, beating their chests about the rule of law, natural justice, and the fundamental rights of every citizen. Yet, in a stunning contradiction that has become almost theatrical in its regularity, those very same lawmakers turn around and use the iron shield of parliamentary privilege to publicly vilify suspects, condemn the accused, and effectively run what can only be described as parallel criminal courts from the comfort of their legislative benches. The nation watches, bewildered, wondering whether Sri Lanka's elected representatives are genuinely committed to justice or simply performing for the cameras.
The Double Standard That Defines Sri Lankan Politics
The contradiction is not subtle. It is glaring, persistent, and deeply troubling for a democracy that aspires to uphold the rule of law. On one hand, Sri Lankan legislators are among the most vocal champions of natural justice principles. They cite legal precedents, invoke constitutional guarantees, and passionately defend due process whenever it suits their political narrative. On the other hand, the moment an opportunity arises to score political points against an opponent or a rival faction, those same principles are conveniently shelved. Parliamentary privilege — a protection originally designed to allow free and fearless debate on matters of public interest — becomes a weapon of personal destruction.
Suspects who have not been convicted, individuals who are merely under investigation, and even those simply accused without formal charges find themselves subjected to blistering public condemnation from the parliamentary floor. These are not debates about policy. These are not discussions about systemic failures in law enforcement. These are targeted campaigns of vilification, carried out under the protective umbrella of parliamentary immunity, where the accused has no legal recourse, no right of reply, and no protection from the reputational damage being inflicted in real time.
Parliamentary Privilege: Shield or Sword?
Parliamentary privilege exists for legitimate and important reasons. It allows legislators to speak truth to power, expose corruption, and hold the executive accountable without fear of defamation suits or political retribution. In functioning democracies, this privilege is exercised with a corresponding sense of responsibility and ethical restraint. Lawmakers understand that the power to speak freely comes with the obligation to speak fairly.
In Sri Lanka's current political climate, however, that sense of responsibility appears to have evaporated entirely. The privilege is not being used to advance public interest debates or expose genuine wrongdoing through credible evidence. Instead, it is frequently deployed as a first-strike weapon in political warfare, where the goal is not justice but damage. When a legislator stands in parliament and declares a suspect guilty before any court has examined the evidence, they are not serving justice — they are undermining it. They are poisoning the well of public opinion, potentially influencing witnesses, and creating an environment where a fair trial becomes increasingly difficult to guarantee.
The Parallel Court Problem
Perhaps the most dangerous dimension of this behavior is the emergence of what observers are calling a "parallel court" phenomenon. When legislators conduct their own investigations, announce their own verdicts, and carry out their own sentencing through public humiliation, they effectively bypass the entire judicial process. The courts, in theory, are meant to be the sole arbiters of guilt and innocence. In practice, public opinion — shaped aggressively by parliamentary pronouncements — often renders its verdict long before a judge ever sees the case file.
This has profound consequences for justice in Sri Lanka. Defense attorneys face clients who are already convicted in the court of public opinion. Judges operate in an environment where political pressure, however indirect, looms large. Victims and witnesses are exposed to a media circus orchestrated not by journalists but by elected officials who should know better. The entire ecosystem of fair trial rights is compromised, not by rogue actors outside the system, but by the very people entrusted with making the laws that govern it.
Time to Fish or Cut Bait
Sri Lanka's legislators face a clear and unavoidable choice. They can continue paying lip service to natural justice while simultaneously weaponizing parliamentary privilege for political gain — a path that erodes public trust in both the legislature and the judiciary. Or they can make a genuine, enforceable commitment to the principles they so loudly profess.
This means establishing clear ethical guidelines governing how parliamentarians discuss ongoing criminal matters. It means creating accountability mechanisms for those who abuse parliamentary privilege to vilify the unconvicted. It means recognizing that the presumption of innocence is not a slogan to be deployed selectively but a foundational pillar of any society that claims to respect human rights and democratic values.
The people of Sri Lanka deserve legislators who practice what they preach. The justice system deserves to function without political interference dressed up as parliamentary debate. The time for half-measures and hollow rhetoric is over. Sri Lanka's lawmakers must decide: are they guardians of justice, or are they simply its most eloquent opponents?