-By LeN Legal Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -08.Feb.2025, 11.30 PM) In the grand halls of justice, where the scales are meant to balance and the gavel resounds with impartiality, one would expect the guardians of law—the very stewards of justice—to uphold the sacred tenets they profess to defend. Yet, in the curious case of the Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL) and their recent outcry over government intervention in the Lasantha Wickramatunge assassination case, we find ourselves questioning: Who watches the watchmen?
The BASL recently penned a concerned letter to the President, lamenting over media reports that the Cabinet of Ministers may review a decision made by the Attorney General (AG) regarding the discharge of three suspects in the Mount Lavinia Magistrate Court case (B92/2009). This case, mind you, isn’t about a parking violation or a petty theft—it’s about the brutal assassination of Lasantha Wickramatunge, a journalist who fearlessly exposed high-level corruption, including the infamous MIG deal linked to Gotabaya Rajapaksa.
Now, the BASL’s stance is that the government’s review threatens judicial independence. Oh, the horror! But let’s not forget that this very government promised a thorough review of journalist murders, especially those swept under the rug during the Rajapaksa era. So, when the BASL cries foul, one has to wonder: are they truly safeguarding the judiciary, or are they just uncomfortable with skeletons tumbling out of the legal closet?
It’s almost comedic—tragically so—that the BASL would lecture on judicial independence while conveniently ignoring the glaring cracks in its own house. Unlike the Solicitors Regulation Authority (SRA) in the UK, which strictly enforces standards of integrity, confidentiality, and professional competence, the BASL functions more like a loose fraternity of legal elites, sans accountability.
Consider this: Sri Lankan lawyers operate in a system with minimal regulatory oversight, where ethical standards often take a back seat to opportunism. Stories abound of lawyers engaging in questionable practices—from exorbitant, unregulated fees to more colorful anecdotes, like the lawyer who reportedly removed a client’s jewelry as payment when cash wasn’t available. Imagine that—a legal pawnshop masquerading as a profession.
While the BASL busies itself with high-minded letters to the President, perhaps it should first turn inward. A little introspection could go a long way in cleaning up its own ranks. Introducing a transparent fee structure, enforcing ethical standards, and regulating payment methods to prevent money laundering would be a start. But alas, that might be too much to ask from an organization that seems more interested in political posturing than professional reform.
The lines between law and politics in Sri Lanka are blurrier than a poorly photocopied legal brief. Many lawyers double as politicians, and not just any politicians—they often represent the very criminals they later rely on for election support. This isn’t just a conflict of interest; it’s a full-blown ethical crisis.
Take a stroll through any courthouse, and you’ll see lawyers defending clients with rap sheets longer than their legal briefs. These same lawyers, once donned in their political hats, seek endorsements from these very “clients” in their campaigns. It’s a symbiotic relationship that thrives on corruption and erodes public trust in the legal system. And where is the BASL in all of this? Busy drafting letters about judicial independence, apparently.
Let’s cut to the heart of the matter. The public’s demand for justice in the case of Lasantha Wickramatunge’s assassination isn’t just about one journalist—it’s about the broader fight against impunity and corruption in Sri Lanka. When the government steps in to review a questionable AG decision, it’s not an affront to the judiciary; it’s a necessary intervention to restore public confidence.
The BASL’s insistence that the government should keep its hands off the matter reeks of legal elitism. In a country where the legal system has often been weaponized to protect the powerful and persecute the powerless, the BASL’s argument sounds less like a defense of judicial independence and more like a desperate attempt to maintain the status quo.
At this juncture, it’s fair to ask: What exactly is the BASL defending? Is it the sanctity of the legal process, or is it the entrenched culture of legal impunity that has allowed high-profile crimes to go unpunished for decades?
The BASL has every right to voice concerns about government overreach. But when that concern seems conveniently aligned with protecting legal and political elites, it undermines their credibility. If the BASL is truly committed to justice, it should support efforts to bring Lasantha’s killers to account, regardless of who’s pushing for it. After all, no man is above the law, and no man below it—a principle that applies as much to the BASL as it does to the government.
To the BASL: Before you climb onto your legal high horse, take a moment to look in the mirror. Address the rampant corruption within your own ranks. Regulate your members, enforce ethical standards, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll earn the moral authority to lecture the government about judicial independence.
Until then, spare us the sanctimonious letters and focus on what really matters: justice for Lasantha Wickramatunge and countless others whose lives were cut short because they dared to speak truth to power.
Because in the end, justice delayed isn’t just justice denied—it’s justice sabotaged. And the BASL, whether it likes it or not, is becoming an accomplice to that sabotage.
Read The BASL Letter https://pdfhost.io/v/0K6rJ.eZ0_Review_of_Decisions_of_the_AG
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by (2025-02-08 19:55:47)
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