Midweek Review

Brecht’s Chalk Circle Again and Again

Published

4 years ago

2022/08/17

Sahan Weerasooriya

Azdak’s Judgments:

by Laleen Jayamanne

Soldier: Your Honour, we meant no harm. Your Honour, what do you wish?

Azdak: Nothing, fellow dogs. Or just an occasional boot to lick!

[…]

Fetch me wine, red wine, sweet red wine.

‘In a faraway and long-ago, dark and bloody epoch, in a sunburnt and cursed city, there lived a Duke…’ sang the storyteller. In the mid-’60s when Brecht’s Caucasian Chalk Circle was first performed there, Colombo had ceased being dark and bloody. April ‘71 was yet a few years away. But the effects of the Sinhala Only Act of ‘56 were taking root in educational institutions, like the National School of Art and Crafts, creating a myopic, monolingual culture. In this context, Henry Jayasena and others in the Sinhala theatre who were interested in developing contemporary drama, began to translate modern European plays, originally written in German, Russian and Italian. Crucially, these Sinhala versions were drawn from English translations of the original languages of the plays. So English worked as the essential ‘link’ language without which we would not have had any access to world theatre and much else. Henry had a good command of English, learnt in high school and at Teachers’ College. Like his similarly brilliant contemporary Sugathapala de Silva, he was not a University educated artist. But Jayasena’s superb theatrical imagination allowed him to translate from English the Chalk Circle into a most wonderful colloquial poetic Sinhala idiom. So much so that it feels like the play was written originally in Sinhala! Reading the Sinhala script was a pleasure in itself and sections have remained in my old brain, as good poetry does. The epic techniques of supple shifts from the songs of the narrator, to the every-day racy, bawdy dialogue of the soldiers, to the lyrical love passages between Grusha and Simon Shashava, to the absurdist folk utterances of Azdak, are all memorably crafted and differentiated.

Bertolt Brecht’s Epic play written in 1944 while he was in exile in the US, fleeing Hitler’s fascist Germany, continues to be a vibrant part of Lanka’s living ‘theatrical epic-memory’. Also, as a text for the O’Level, a large number of Lankans must have become familiar with it. The play has a ‘play-within-a-play’ double structure but in scene 4, Azdak’s story, there is a further third level. That is, a ‘play-within-a play-within-a play’. The first play is set in the present postwar Soviet Republic of Georgia in 1945, where workers of two Collective Farms meet with a State official to decide, through discussion, as to who should have the stewardship of a particular valley. The Farmers who have been in the valley since birth claim it as their own for their goats to graze in, while the other group say that through irrigation they can make the valley more productive of fruit and wine. Its key question is, ‘who is good for the land?’

The play-within the play, set in the Imperial past of a fictional Georgia or Grusinia, at war with Persia. The folk parable of the Chalk Circle is performed as entertainment after the debate about the valley has been reasonably decided. The key question there becomes, ‘who is the good mother for the child?’ – (hadu mavada, vadu mavada? The third level of a play-within a play-within a play is a mock trial between a prince who wants to be the Judge and Azdak pretending to be the deposed Grand Duke, as the defendant. In all there are six or seven judgments that involve Azdak in one way or another. The intricacies of each of these legal cases and their differences from each other, make scene 4 a most fascinating aspect of the episodic structure of the play itself. In contrast, scenes 1-3 involving Grusha the kitchen-hand and her dilemma are expressed memorably and clearly by the narrator: “Terrible is the temptation to be good.” This is Grusha’s decision to save and nurture the Governor’s abandoned infant, without counting the terrible cost to herself. Her scenes, engaging as they are, do not have the kind of intricacy and complexity of the six or so episodes where Azdak plays with several ideas of Law and of Justice.

Animals’ Rights and the Folk Imagination

An Epic Contest is staged in the play, between the idea of The Law as a written code by absolutist rulers, and ideas of Social Justice, which include a sense of fairness towards the poor and powerless. This ample human feeling of fairness is encoded in folk tales of peoples across Eurasia where animals also have a claim on Justice from humans. For example, the Mahavamsa tells us of the remarkable sense of justice embodied by the Tamil King Elara when he ruled Anuradhapura. He had a bell hung at his palace gate, which anyone could ring to make a claim when an injustice had been committed. So, when a cow complained to Elara that his son in his chariot had run over and killed her calf, he did not hesitate to put his son to death. We are told that taking pity on them, both lives were restored by a god. According to my friend Amrit MacIntyre who is a lawyer and legal scholar that story is found in various forms in the Middle East to Europe. Each version of the story is about a king from the distant past who is known for his justice. Critically, in each version the person seeking justice was an animal, a serpent in Italy seeking justice from Charlemagne, and an ass in the Middle East seeking justice from an Iranian Emperor (Khusro I). What is intriguing in all of this is a common conception of justice equally applying to all, including animals, that forms part of the mental landscape across Eurasia from very early on. Interestingly, a 2017 decision of the Supreme Court of India referred to the story of Elara as part of its reasoning! The folk tale of the Chalk Circle is found in an ancient Chinese play, as well as in the Judgment of Solomon in the Old Testament, and both were points of reference for Brecht in radically rewriting the tale as a modern epic parable influenced by Marxist ideas.

Azdak, the town scribe and rogue judge, was played memorably by Winston Serasinghe in Ernest MacIntyre’s English production. Henry Jayasena played the same in his own production, also in the mid-60s. And MacIntyre also acted as the priest in Henry’s production – one of the earliest exchanges between English and Sinhala Theatre in the ‘60s. That is to say, between the Lionel Wendt and Lumbini theatres, respectively. Azdak was the village scribe who, when the State collapsed and the official judge hanged by the rebellious carpet weavers, was forcibly roped in to act as a judge by the illiterate soldiers. But it turned out that he had his own eccentric ideas of Justice and fair play and was a bit drunk, sexist and openly took money from plaintiffs. Though Azdak appears only in the last 2 scenes, he leaves a powerful impression in one’s memory as a character like Shakespeare’s Falstaff. But he is unlike Falstaff whose fall from grace, after rejection by his former buddy Prince Hal, is full of tragic pathos. Azdak is a creature of the folk imagination.

Epic-Character Azdak

Sumathy Sivamohan concludes her recent article on the links between the two Republican Constitutions of Sri Lanka (‘72 & ‘78), by invoking Azdak as a figure relevant to this moment of the People’s Aragalaya, (The Island 8/8). Azdak is a Brechtian Epic-Character through whom the very ideas of Law and Justice are examined, played with, debated and put into crisis, theatrically. He is also a great comic figure introducing laughter into the court where it is thought to be unseemly. In this way Brecht’s Epic Theatrical practice offers us several unusual angles on the process of making Judgements, the reasoning behind them. Through these scenes, the idea of Justice appears paradoxical, not altogether just in one case, but also both reasonable and yet ‘unlawful’, if judged according to the letter of the Law, in another. And some downright absurd. This complexity, of plot lines and intricacy of comic procedural ‘legal’ detail, is significant in demonstrating the class basis of judgements and how they are reached. The hilarious comic absurdity of some of Azdak’s arguments and rulings parody seemingly rational, legalistic linguistic power-play in regular courts. ‘Demonstrability’ is a strong concept in Brechtian theatrical theory and is linked to the idea of the pedagogical function of Epic Theatre.

A Brechtian Parable for the Aragalaya?

The comedic demonstration of the interplay between the Law and Justice, appears to be relevant to Lankans now, poised in their struggle to make politicians accountable for their actions which have plunged the country into economic, political and existential chaos. Azdak is an epic construct and as such we don’t quite empathise with him or like or dislike him. Rather, we observe this comic figure with enjoyment, as he plays with a variety of judgments, with no rule book as guide. He excites our curiosity about the mechanics of the Law, its different avatars, (Totalitarian Law, People’s Law, a judgment without a precedent), which, in an Imperial regime, as in the world of the play within the play, seems invincible and arbitrary. The two lawyers of the Governor’s wife Natella Abashvili are, however, immediately recognisable social types aligned with social power, contrasting with Azdak’s Epic singularity. They argue for the right of the blood-line to obtain the child from Grusha, to return to his biological but callous and predatory mother, only so that she can claim the property bequeathed to the child.

A Palace Revolution

The Chalk Circle opens on a seemingly normal Easter Sunday, with the wealthy Governor and family attending church to great fanfare that soon turns violent – palace revolution creates chaos and soldiers go to war against distant Persia. The Governor is beheaded, his head impaled on a lance and displayed, nailed to a wall, while his wife flees forgetting to take their baby. The Grand Duke has also gone into hiding. The Carpet Weavers, taking advantage of the revolt, hang the Judge. So it comes to pass that the village scribe Azdak becomes the accidental Judge, under a state of emergency. Not knowing the Law is no impediment to Azdak. Some of these events and scenes of the play have an uncanny resemblance to the farcical misrule seen in the Lankan Parliament not too long ago. Before we look at Azdak’s celebrated Judgments it’s worth looking at Brecht’s original theatrical structure, which is Epic rather than Dramatic.

Epic Theatre vs Tragic Drama

Brecht’s play is not a tragedy, a genre he rejected as an Aristotelian Greek notion driven by an idea of Destiny and causality and heroic action. The presence of a singer-narrator who introduces us to the play is an epic device in that, as the story-teller, he conducts the action. He stops characters in their tracks and sings of what they feel, but cannot say. He explains the action when necessary and advances the story. The famous singer who knows twenty-one thousand lines of verse becomes the story-teller. He announces that the play consists of ‘two stories and will take two hours to perform’. The Soviet expert from the city is impatient and asks him, (after the disagreement between the two collective farmers is resolved), “can’t you make it shorter?” The singer responds with a firm ‘No’. Brecht offers a play, which is profoundly episodic in its construction. Each episode is autonomous, has a relative freedom from a tight causally driven dramatic structure. What Brecht wanted was a theatrical structure which didn’t have any inevitable causal links propelling events as in the case of, say, Oedipus Rex. In this way he demonstrates how History and its presentation in the Epic, hold alternative possibilities. The Epic form can reveal in its episodic structure ‘the many roads not taken’. Some academics in the Aragalaya have begun to examine Lanka’s post independent history and the many roads not taken in structuring the economy, in race relations and education and development policy, for instance.

Azdak’s Judgements

Why do I think that a ‘close reading’ of Azdak’s judgements matter, especially now? Because he has a window of opportunity during a palace revolution, to play with and interrogate ideas of Law and Justice. It is quite by chance that he is made a judge because the official judge has been hanged, the Governor executed and the Duke has fled during the civil war. Now is a time when a large number of people in Lanka are feeling that the Laws that govern them and their sense of Justice are at variance. And Azdak’s idiosyncratic process of judging and his rulings offer several unusual angles on both. He is unprincipled and we can’t tell which way his Judgment will fall, regardless of his own precedent. He is inconsistent but not amoral, he shows feelings on the bench, he is not ‘Blind Justice’. He has a strong conscience. Guilt-ridden, he has himself arrested and shackled by Sauwa the cop, for having unwittingly given the fugitive Grand Duke refuge in his hut and helped him escape, during the palace revolution.

In the mock trial Azdak impersonates the Grand Duke. The soldiers who call the shots say they want to test if the Nephew is fit and proper to be a judge as recommended by his uncle Prince Kazbeki. So they create a legal play within the play by making Azdak play the role of the Grand Duke as the defendant and the Nephew the acting judge. Azdak as the Grand Duke is accused of losing the war and in his comic defense he demonstrates how the Princes actually won by war-profiteering and enabling the Persians victory. All this is done in a brilliant quick-witted, punchy question and answer session where Azdak twists words and wins the argument with relish. Proven guilty of embezzlement, the soldiers arrest the acting judge and Prince Kazbeki and plonk Azdak on the throne, unceremoniously throwing the cloak of the dead judge across his shoulders. It’s high farce with linguistic fireworks in court.

A judgement Azdak makes from the bench deals with a farmer’s complaint against his farmhand who is accused of raping his daughter-in-law, Ludovica. By contemporary feminist standards Azdak’s judgment that Ludovica by virtue of her seductive walk, seduced and thereby ‘raped’ the man, is idiotic and sexist. But the scene is more ambiguous. It might be the case that what was called rape by the father-in-law may have been consensual sex, which he happened to stumble in on. We are told by the narrator that the Ludovica’s speech was well rehearsed. The scene remains ambiguous, open to several readings especially because Azdak orders Ludovica to accompany him to examine the scene of the crime after the verdict has found her guilty! The narrator has called him, ‘Good judge, bad judge, Azdak.’

Another judgment shows that Azdak is indeed a ‘people’s judge,’ ruling in favour of a grandmotherly old woman, against the three farmers who accuse her of theft. The old woman wins the case by virtue of being poor, despite the fact that the items were stolen on her behalf by a relative who is a Bandit. The plea she offers in her defense is her belief in miracles. So, taking up her cue Azdak reprimands the Farmers for not believing in miracles! To save time, Azdak decides to hear two similar cases of professional negligence and blackmail, together!

The judgment of the Chalk Circle is what Azdak is most famous for. But the previous ones, with their pileup of parodic absurdity, are crucial for Brecht’s politics in Demonstrating how social class, wealth and power determine legal ritual. Once the normality of the Grand Duke’s authoritarian rule is restored, Prince Kazbeki is beheaded as a traitor. The chaos of the revolutionary moment (‘a Golden age’?) that saw Azdak become a judge, with his own unique sense of justice, is reversed with the return of the Grand Duke. He is now attacked by the illiterate soldiers, bloodied and humiliated, soon to be hanged. But at the last moment a messenger from the Grand Duke arrives with a document ordering Azdak to be exonerated and made judge for having saved the Duke’s life. It is jarring to register that the Grand Duke does have a sense of aristocratic honour (unlike Lanka’s rulers) despite his reputation as a swindler and butcher.

Azdak wipes the blood from his eyes as he finds himself plonked on the judges’ chair yet again, and makes the celebrated progressive modern judgment of the Chalk Circle. It is reached through an ingenious process based on an ancient wordless contest. Grusha repeatedly refuses to pull the child out of the circle lest he be injured and so she is deemed the ‘true’ mother and given custody of the child, against the predatory biological mother who pulls him out. The singer then concludes the epic parable with a poetic summary of how Azdak aligned a feeling of Justice with eminently reasonable new rules. In that legal thinking, human emotion becomes the sister of rational thought.

Singer:

“The people of Georgia

Remembered him, and remembered

For a long time,

The times when he was judge

As a short, golden age

When there was justice – nearly.

Take to heart,

All you who’ve heard

The Tale of the Chalk Circle

And what that ancient song means.

What there is should belong

To those who are good at it.

Children to true mothers,

That they may thrive.

Carts to the good drivers,

That they may be driven well,

And the valley to the waterers,

So that it bears fruit.”

Sri Lanka is a country in which Chalk Circle has been seen and enjoyed for generations. Doing a close reading of the play, while following the non-violent political uprising and struggle of the people from afar, gives one hope that changes good for Lanka are imaginable so that the land may bear fruit.

All News Advertisement

Midweek Review

22A: Competing Opposition parties in dilemma

Published

5 days ago

2026/09/2

Sahan Weerasooriya

Ranil Wickremesinghe arrives at the Opposition Leader Sajith Premadasa's Office on 23 July, 2026. Talks centred on ways and means to oppose the 22nd Amendment

Silent petty backbiting among Opposition may result in it grabbing defeat from victory over NPP

There is no likelihood of the SJB and the UNP reaching consensus on a tangible arrangement in the near future though some asserted that they may agree on a united front against the ruling National People’s Power (NPP). Referring to

former President and UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe’s visit to Opposition Leader Sajith Premadasa’s Office on 23 July, a source familiar with the developments said that in spite of such gestures, underlying problems remain. Another source explained that a combined front may be useful in a campaign against a particular issue but the two parties needed a genuine arrangement ahead of the next countrywide election.

By Shamindra Ferdinando

United Republican Front (URF) leader Patali Champika Ranawaka recently thanked Health and Media Minister Dr. Nalinda Jayathissa for recognising the Janathawadi Joint Opposition as a real challenge to the National People’s Power (NPP) government. The NPP enjoys an unassailable 159 parliamentary seats.

The former Minister noted that Dr. Jayathissa, who is also the Cabinet spokesman, realised the political threat posed by them, though the main parliamentary Opposition party Samagi Jana Balawegaya consisted of 40 lawmakers.

Ranawaka refrained from naming the SJB as the main Opposition party he was referring to.

Addressing the media at the Flower Road Office of UNP leader Ranil Wickremesinghe, Ranawaka pointed out that the ruling party felt their challenge, though there were a plethora of Opposition parties in the Parliament.

Referring to Dr. Jayathissa’s recent accusation that they conspired at the Kirula Place, Colombo 5, residence of former External Affairs Minister Prof. G. L Peiris, Ranawaka appreciated the Minister’s declaration made at the expense of the SJB.

While the 40-member SJB group is the second largest group in Parliament, the Illankai Thamil Arasu Kadchi (ITAK) holds third position with eight seats whereas New Democratic Front (NDF) consists of five MPs. The NDF, that received the backing of Wickremesinghe at the 2024 parliamentary polls, is in fourth position, whereas the Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna (SLPP) parliamentary group consists of just three members. The SLPP suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the NPP at the last parliamentary polls, held in November 2024. An angry electorate at the first parliamentary polls after the 2022 regime change project reduced the SLPP, from a commanding 145-seat group, to just three MPs. Defeated 2024 presidential election candidate Namal Rajapaksa was so fearful of the impending rout at the November 2024 polls, he took refuge in the SLPP National List.

The political grouping, based at the Flower Road office of Wickremesinghe, has gradually broadened its operation. The stepping up of the Flower Road operation must be examined taking into consideration the NPP targeting Wickremesinghe over his 2023 September visit to the UK. The NPP has alleged that Wickremesinghe squandered public funds at a time the country was undergoing extreme economic difficulties. The crux of the matter is whether Wickremesinghe, in his capacity as the President, spent Rs 16.2 man on a private visit.

In spite of the Flower Road project receiving the NPP’s attention, Wickremesinghe does not really command the NDF that contested under the ‘Gas Cylinder’ symbol. The NDF group in Parliament consists of former Badulla District SLPP lawmaker Chamara Sampath Dassanayake, former Kalutara District SLPP MP Rohitha Abeygunawardena, ex-SLPP Kandy District MP Andrada Jayaratne, ex-UNP Minister Ravi Karunanayake (National List) and former SLFP Minister Fizer Mustapha (National List).

It would be pertinent to mention that a major problem erupted within the NDF at the time of filling the two National List slots. Wickremesinghe is the undisputed leader of the NDF, though he lacked any formal recognition as such, fielded candidates for selected electoral districts outside the Northern and Eastern regions at the 2024 November polls. The NDL comprised the UNP, the SLFP and the SLPP breakaway faction ‘Podujana Eksath Nidahas Peramuna (PENP).’ All three elected members Dissanayake, Abeygunawardena and Jayaratne represented the PENP.

The SLFP received one National List slot whereas the General Secretary of the NDF, Sharmila Perera, regardless of strong objections by Wickremesinghe, accommodated Karunanayake as the other NDF National List nominee. Perera informed the Election Commission, in writing, while the coalition debated Karunanayake’s appointment. An influential section of the coalition favoured the appointment of Kanchana Wijesekera, of the PENP, as the other National List member.

Perera, in her capacity as the NDF’s General Secretary, chose Karunanayake whose involvement with the NDF is in the public domain. The Election Commission gazetted a notification on 18 November, 2024, naming Karunanayake to Parliament. Will discuss the NDF’s emergence as a significant political factor in the wake of the 2010 presidential election, the first national poll after the eradication of the separatist Tamil terrorist movement.

SJB strategy

Whether the SJB likes it or not, former Yahapalana Minister Ranawaka’s reaction to Dr. Jayathissa’s conspiracy claim highlighted the ongoing controversy surrounding the main Opposition party’s overall response to the NPP’s pet project, the enactment of the 22nd Amendment.

Some political commentators have harshly criticised SJB Chief, who is also the Opposition Leader, Sajith Premadasa, for failing to mount a large-scale counter offensive. Some of them have taken offence that Premadasa sort of played it safe in spite of the NPP seeking to bulldoze the Opposition, both in and outside Parliament. Various interested parties have asserted that Premadasa’s inaction has been influenced by his fear of the government hounding him with corruption investigations, targeting him and his wife Jalani.

In spite of much publicised gathering of recognised Opposition parties/groups at the Opposition Leader’s Office at No 30, Sir Marcus Fernando Mawatha, Colombo 07, on 23 July, 2026, also attended by Wickremesinghe, the SJB appeared to have failed to take the lead in the overall campaign against the 22nd Amendment. Had the government managed to neutralise the determined efforts of the Sri Lanka Bar Association (BASL) and the unexpected United Nations intervention, the Opposition campaign may have collapsed already.

The undeniable truth is the SJB never succeeded in taking command of the overall political strategy. Dr. Jayathissa’s claim and Ranawaka’s reaction clearly suggested the deterioration of the SJB’s status. But those who approve of the SJB’s handling of political developments seem confident the party is on the right track. They feel criticism directed at the SJB and Sajith Premadasa, in particular, unfair and utterly politically motivated. Social media criticism appeared to have troubled the SJB. Recently, the SJB contradicted and challenged the opinion expressed by Priyanjith Vitharana who posted political commentaries under the pseudonym ‘Rate Rala.’ The former General Secretary of the breakaway JVP group, the National Freedom Front (NFF), has emerged as one of the strongest critics of Premadasa’s style of Opposition politics. ‘Rate Rala’ relentlessly attacked the SJB leader and vigorously questioned what he called the Opposition Leader’s lukewarm reaction to the NPP’s challenge.

The SJB and the Wickremesinghe-led political grouping cannot turn a blind eye to President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s impending high profile political campaign, countrywide. The NPP has declared that the campaign would be launched on 5 September. The NPP enjoys absolute political power to move large groups of people for their intended meetings as previous ruling parties did. But, in the absence of a cohesive political strategy, those in the Opposition are still unable to work out a strategy to counter the NPP campaign. The Cabinet spokesman has dared Wickremesinghe’s group to bring in people onto the streets instead of having clandestine meetings at the residence of Prof. Peiris, the convenor of the Janathawadi Joint Opposition.

Wickremesinghe’s five-member NDF group in Parliament is obviously divided over political strategy. It seems the members of the group are pulling in different directions. The SLFP’s Faizer Mustapha is somewhat silent on the 22nd Amendment and the remaining members haven’t been seen playing a role against the 22nd Amendment worth mentioning. Cobbling up alliances to overcome short-term political challenges is the bane of the Sri Lankan political setup. The NDF is no exception. Having suffered an expected defeat at the 2024 September presidential poll, Wickremesinghe utilised the NDF to bring together those at the mercy of the NPP. Wickremesinghe’s move dealt a devastating blow to the SLPP, struggling to cope up with the developing situation. The consequences of Wickremesinghe post-presidential actions caused irreparable damage. The fielding of SLPP candidates on the NDF ticket and also accommodating them on its National List, at the expense of the SLPP, undermined that party. Among those who betrayed the SLPP were former Prime Minister Dinesh Gunawardena and ex-Speaker Mahinda Yapa Abeywardena. But, Wickremesinghe didn’t care. By then, the SLPP had forgotten how in its capacity as the ruling party it elected Wickremesinghe as Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s successor at the expense of their own Dullas Alahapperuma who teamed up with the SJB to fight it out in Parliament.

The SLPP fell out with Wickremesinghe when the latter sought the ruling party’s backing at the 2024 presidential polls, the first post-Aragalaya (read regime change project) national election. At the end, Sajith Premadasa, Ranil Wickremesinghe and Namal Rajapaksa contested at the expense of a unified front. That enabled Anura Kumara Dissanayake to secure victory at the 2024 presidential race.

Unrealistic SJB-UNP partnership

In the run-up to the 2024 parliamentary polls, the writer, at a Flower Road Office briefing by UNP Deputy Leader Ruwan Wijewardena, raised the failure on the part of the UNP and the SJB to reach a consensus after Dissanayake won the presidency due to their dithering.

The former Deputy Defence Minister, struggled to explain the status on the SJB-UNP talks when the writer pointed out that Dissanayake polled 5,634,915 votes whereas Sajith Premadasa (4,363,035 votes) and Ranil Wickremesinghe (2,299,767) together polled 6,662,802- a staggering 1,027,887 votes more than the winner. Unfortunately, both camps remained adamant regarding the modalities of consensus/unification. Had the two parties realised the gravity of the situation and the extraordinary challenge the NPP posed, they could have shed whatever their differences to contest under one symbol. But the petty-minded SJB and UNP leaders squandered an opportunity that resulted in the NPP securing an unbeatable 159 seats at the presidential election.

The SJB and the UNP continue to move in different directions. Those who remain with the UNP appeared to be more comfortable having Dissanayake as the President than Premadasa. Wickremesinghe’s visit to the Opposition Leader’s Office seemed to have failed to achieve a genuine reconciliation between the two leaders. Soon after the 2019 presidential election that brought newcomer Gotabaya Rajapaksa to power, the internal crisis, within the UNP, intensified.

Defeated UNP contestant Deputy Leader Sajith Premadasa quit the party in early February 2020, to form the SJB. The SJB-led alliance was officially launched in March 2020 ahead of the parliamentary polls in August 2020. The UNP split in the aftermath of the 2019 presidential poll created an extremely unfavourable environment for Wickremesinghe who suffered a crushing defeat at the August parliamentary polls. The UNP was reduced to one National List slot whereas the SJB secured 54 seats, including seven National List slots. Wickremesinghe failed to retain his Colombo District parliamentary seat.

Wickremesinghe refrained from filling that solitary National List slot till June 2021. By then, the economic crisis had set in. Wickremesinghe entered Parliament on 23 June, 2021. Rapid economic deterioration led to sovereign default the following year. Political stability created an environment for Wickremnesinghe to exploit. Wickremesinghe didn’t hesitate to accept the premiership on 12 May, 2022, soon after SJB leader Sajith Premadasa turned down President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s invitation. The beleaguered UNPer couldn’t have asked for more. The SLPP ended up electing Wickremesinghe as Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s successor 10 weeks later, a decision that the party now rued. In hindsight, the consensus between the Rajapaksas and Wickremesinghe, in the short term, benefited both parties but undermined efforts to iron out differences between the SJB and the UNP.

The UNP felt that it should have the final say in the issue at hand. However, the SJB quite rightly asserted that securing 54 seats at the 2020 parliamentary election should be taken into consideration. The UNP was down to one National List slot and in the wake of the SLPP accommodating Wickremesinghe in the Executive Office, Wajira Abeywardena filled that vacancy.

In fact, the UNP never relished consensus with the SJB. Instead, Wickremesinghe felt that it could extend his partnership with the SLPP, to his advantage, by securing its approval as the party’s 2024 presidential poll. Had that happened, the SLPP would have further deteriorated though Wickremesinghe could have polled a far larger share of votes at the presidential poll. Contesting as an independent, Wickremesinghe polled over 2.2 million votes at the presidential election. That defeat compelled Wickremesinghe, who turned 75 in the run-up to the presidential poll, not to join the parliamentary polls fray.

Wickremesinghe knew the signs. He knew the game was over and the UNP no longer appealed, even to die-hard supporters. The UNP leader quietly brought together the remnants of the UNP with the SLFP and SLPP and fielded them under the NDF’s symbol. As mentioned at the onset of this piece, the NDF, under Wickremesinghe’s leadership, obtained five seats. But, he never managed to retain control of the parliamentary group. Against the backdrop of an unprecedented deterioration of the UNP, the 22nd Amendment, in a way, has helped Wickremesinghe to work out a strategy to somewhat consolidate his position. The Flower Road operation has given Wickremesinghe some leverage as the NPP battled the high profile Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL)-led campaign against the 22nd Amendment.

NPP strategy

The NPP seems confident that the SJB and the UNP, under any circumstances, will not amalgamate or contest under one symbol. The NPP’s political strategy is based on the presumption that the two parties lacked the will to do so, though they realised their costly failure to reach consensus at the last presidential and parliamentary polls in 2024. Both parties suffered at the 2025 May Local Government polls as well. In a last-ditch attempt UNP leader Wickremesinghe proposed that the UNP and SJB contest the Colombo Municipal Council under one symbol. That proposal never materialised.

As a result, the UNP lost the CMC after more than 50 years. The UNP won the CMC in 2011 when the rival UPFA, led by the then President Mahinda Rajapaksa, won all other local government bodies outside the Northern and Eastern Provinces, two years after the eradication of the LTTE.

Opposition sources acknowledged that nothing short of an arrangement to contest the next election, under one symbol, wouldn’t help them. “We are unable to fully exploit the deterioration of public confidence in the NPP due to the appalling failure to bring talks between the two parties to a successful conclusion,” a source familiar with the developments said.

The 22nd Amendment gave an opportunity for the SJB, with 40 MPs in Parliament, and the UNP, sans any parliamentary representation, to finalise an arrangement. Unfortunately, they failed to do so, thereby allowed the government to proceed with the strategy. A major campaign, led by President Dissanayake himself, scheduled to be launched on 5 September, underscored their strategy, whereas the Opposition remained still unsure of its own counter-strategy. Had they at least managed to organise a few mega rallies with the participation of the entire Opposition, the NPP may have come under real pressure. Unfortunately, even after the Illankai Thamil Arasu Kadchi (ITAK) and Tamil Progressive Front (TPA) representing upcountry political parties declared strong opposition to 22nd Amendment, the SJB couldn’t take the lead in organising a large-scale counter campaign. Instead, the Janathawadi Joint Opposition, operating out of the Flower Road Office, has exploited the situation to its advantage.

Despite both the SJB and the UNP (Janathawadi Joint Opposition) moving the Supreme Court against the 22nd Amendment, they conveniently failed to appear together at regular media briefings, held at Wickremesinghe’s Flower Road Office, where Prof. Peiris, in his capacity as the convenor of the grouping, meticulously dealt with the developing story.

Regardless of the failure on the part of the SJB and the UNP to finalise an arrangement with eyes on the next election, the BASL-led campaign against the 22nd Amendment caused significant damage to the NPP’s reputation. The BASL’s shocking revelation that two deserving justices, namely senior justice of the Court of Appeal, Dhammika Ganepola, and senior-most justice of the Court of Appeal, justice R. Gurusinghe, were deprived of promotion to the Supreme Court by the incumbent administration, was received by the public with disappointment. The BASL released 17 August, 2026, dated, hitherto unpublished letter, addressed to President Dissanayake, that dealt with unfilled vacancies in the superior courts, while the government preached the public of its determination to deal with a mountain of case backlog.

Unfortunately, the Opposition campaign lacked direction though some former and present lawmakers targeted the 22nd Amendment. With almost all who moved the Supreme Court against the 22nd Amendment seeking all remaining judges of the Supreme Court to hear the petitions with the BASL suggesting that Chief Justice recuse himself of hearing the cases over conflict of interests and all agreeing on a referendum to approve of the controversial constitutional amendment, the apex court constitutionally is authorised to take three weeks to decide on the issue at hand.

The decision is expected to be communicated to Speaker Dr. Jagath Wickremaratne around the time President Dissanayake completed his second turbulent year in Office on 21 September.

Midweek Review

The local and global dynamics of Sri Lanka’s 22nd Amendment

Published

5 days ago

2026/09/2

Sahan Weerasooriya

Beyond noise and acrimony:

by Sasanka Perera
(The writer is on X as @sasmester)
Background

The Sri Lankan government has proposed to introduce the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution focused on increasing the retirement age for Supreme Court and Court of Appeal judges. Coupled with parallel legislative adjustments to the Judicature Act of 1978 governing the functioning of lower-tier courts, the initiative has drawn sharp criticism from domestic legal bodies, opposition political parties, human rights activists and scrutiny from international organisations, most notably the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Independence of Judges and Lawyers.

Locally however, much of the debate is lost in the noise of acrimony, name-calling and what can only be called ‘social media violence’ rather than becoming a sensible discourse of rational and courteous debate. A week ago, a simple tweet from me on my wariness over getting the UN involved in this matter and the UN’s general bias towards countries like ours literally went viral, castigating me as a supporter of the government. My public writing in support and often in opposition to government positions — as demanded by different cases and situations — had no impact whatsoever. This virulent noise has no place in democratic practice, which all these noisemakers nevertheless claim to protect. This essay, however, finds its genesis in that noise as a means of making sense of the politics of the 22nd Amendment for myself and for any sensible people who might want to ponder over its implications.

As far as my understanding goes as a citizen without a legal background, the present controversy touches on the core tension amongst practical administrative necessity as seen by the government, constitutional integrity as argued by many in the legal profession, human rights advocates and opposition politicians and the geopolitics of international human rights oversight exercised by entities such as the UN.

Under Article 107 of Sri Lanka’s 1978 Constitution, the mandatory retirement age for Supreme Court judges is 65 years, while Court of Appeal judges must retire at 63 years. The proposed 22nd constitutional amendment seeks to raise these limits by two years. That is, extending Supreme Court tenure to 67 years and Court of Appeal tenure to 65 years. It also proposes that the number of judges in the Court of Appeal be increased from 19 to 24. Further, in the case of the Chief Justice, it is specified that the retirement date would be 67 years or after completing six years in office, subject to whichever comes first. In parallel, the government has also proposed to amend the Judicature Act of 1978 with the aim of raising the retirement age of High Court judges to 63 years and for District Court judges and Magistrates to 62 years. In other words, the overall proposal is to increase the retirement age of judges throughout the judicial hierarchy by two years.

Government’s Rationale

The government’s justifications for the proposed amendment rests on two general parameters. One is efficiency in judicial administration. The other is the retention of experienced judges for an additional period of two years. In this context, the government and its supporters in civil society do not perceive the proposal as a political maneouvre, but rather as an urgent administrative intervention that is essential to clear the backlog of cases throughout the judicial system. There is no doubt that the system is clearly overworked, understaffed and inefficient, and as a result, burdened with a serious backlog of cases.

Sri Lankan courts face an acute backlog exceeding 1.1 million pending cases according to some estimates. In this context, the government’s argument is that retaining seasoned judges is vital to maintain case disposal rates and prevent systemic paralysis. Extending judicial service is presented as a pragmatic mechanism to preserve institutional memory and combat capacity shortages.

Objections and Opposition

Despite official justifications, most of which seem legitimate based on actual experience and existing data, some legal analysts, opposition figures, and civil society groups suspect unstated political objectives behind the timing and structure of the reform. For them, a primary concern is that the amendment is structured to apply retroactively or immediately to sitting judges rather than prospective future appointees. Critics suggest this directly benefits specific high-ranking figures ranging from the incumbent Chief Justice to senior appellate judges, who are nearing the mandatory retirement age while overseeing politically sensitive cases. On the other hand, one can argue it is precisely because some of them are presiding over politically sensitive cases, that they need to complete the relevant cases for which experience, familiarity as well as institutional memory are essential.

However, there is no doubt that extending the tenure during an active term creates the impression of a government benefit granted to sitting judges. Whether this is the intention or whether it becomes reality, appearances do matter. The main point opponents bring out is, this specific intervention risks compromising the perception of judicial neutrality in a situation where sitting judges might be perceived as indebted to political authority for extending their service. While this is indeed a possibility, it is nevertheless not a necessary outcome.

Formal and vocal opposition at the moment is led by the Bar Association of Sri Lanka, local political parties, and some constitutional experts. But this has not become a bread-and-butter issue yet in the country. That is, there is no way this issue will capture the public imagination in the manner more pressing bread and butter issues did in the aragalaya of 2022. Also, Sri Lanka’s fractured and delegitimised opposition sharing the same argumentative plain with an entity like the Bar Association of Sri Lanka does not help the latter when it comes to generating public sympathy for its cause however legitimate it might be.

To my understanding and reading between the lines amidst the deafening noise in the vocal opposition, the above concerns are based on several core arguments.

One has to do with the perceived erosion of the separation of powers. That is, changing the retirement age of sitting judges mid-tenure can compromise constitutional predictability and impartiality. Theoretically, fixed retirement ages exist in judicial systems globally to specifically protect judges from executive interference or influence. The second concern I can see but not clearly articulated by sceptics has to do with the possibilities of career stagnation. In other words, delaying emergent vacancies at the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal will create a bottleneck across the entire judicial hierarchy for some time, potentially demoralising junior judges in the High Courts and District Courts awaiting elevation. Finally, there is a concern over the long-term government failure to effectively utilise cadre expansion that has already been made possible which precedes the present government’s access to office. Prior constitutional changes (such as the 20th Amendment) already had expanded the numerical capacity of the superior courts. In this context, the argument is that the government should focus on filling existing vacancies with new appointees rather than altering the tenure of current judges. Purely as matters of principle, theory and potential impact on democratic governance, none of these concerns are spurious.

The UN Special Rapporteur’s Intervention

The 22nd Amendment is no longer merely a local political issue. On 7 August 2026, Margaret Satterthwaite, the UN Special Rapporteur on the Independence of Judges and Lawyers, addressed a five-page official communication to the Sri Lankan government based on ‘information’ her office had received and issued 7 requests for further information. Internationalisation of the politics surrounding the 22nd Amendment is also an integral part of Sri Lanka’s oppositional politics. While acknowledging that raising retirement ages can preserve expertise, her mandate emphasised that alterations to judicial tenure must adhere strictly to international standards. The Special Rapporteur highlights a number of primary concerns, which include the following: 1) She is concerned with the application of the proposed changes to sitting judges. That is, extending terms for sitting judges without clear, objective, and transparent transitional safeguards creates the risk or perception of political favor. 2) Second, she has raised concerns over the lack of broad consultations in introducing the proposal. In other words, the rapid introduction of the amendment without inclusive public and professional stakeholder consultation can threaten public trust in the rule of law. 3) Finally, she has also referred to a potential conflict of interest. That is sitting judges benefiting from the extension could face a structural conflict of interest if called upon to adjudicate constitutional challenges against the very amendment that extended their careers.

In a sense, these concerns are very similar to the concerns raised by the local opposition. But in real terms, is the 22nd Amendment unusual or inherently anti-democratic that it warrants a UN body to be this concerned when in general it is often not concerned beyond rhetoric in far worse situations? Increasing judicial retirement ages is a common trend globally, driven by demographic shifts and longer life expectancy. However, the mechanisms and contexts of various cases differ considerably. Through the Public Service Pensions and Judicial Offices Act 2022, the United Kingdom raised the mandatory retirement age for judicial office holders from 70 to 75. This included judges, magistrates, and coroners. The rationale for this provided by the UK government at the time cited improvements in life expectancy, the need to address post-pandemic court backlogs, and recruitment gaps across courts. Crucially, the change followed a comprehensive public consultation involving over 1,000 responses from legal professionals, the magistracy, and civic bodies.

An Australian state and a self-governing territory, namely, New South Wales and Northern Territory offer other recent examples. Australia does not have a single uniform retirement age for all state and federal judges. Under Section 72 of the Australian Constitution, federal judges have a fixed retirement age of 70. However, individual states have raised state-level judicial retirement ages at different times. In 2018, New South Wales enacted the Justice Legislation Amendment Act (No. 2) 2018, raising the mandatory retirement age for state judges and magistrates from 72 to 75. Similarly, in 2019, the Northern Territory also raised the retirement age for Supreme Court judges from 70 to 72 years under the Justice Legislation Amendment Act 2019.

But the UN Special Rapporteur did not issue formal communications or allegations to either the United Kingdom or the Australian state and territory regarding these specific tenure increases — with reason. For one thing, both the UK and Australian state and territorial governments conducted long-term, transparent public consultations with legal professional bodies prior to enacting legislation. That is, there was an appearance of reasonability. On the other hand, in these cases, the reforms were introduced as broad, systemic statutory updates rather than ad-hoc constitutional amendments enacted amid heightened domestic political tension or ongoing sensitive litigation involving sitting judges as is the case in Sri Lanka. Finally, in these cases, the policy changes were implemented via general legislative consensus rather than executive-driven constitutional maneuvers that directly benefited individual judges in real-time in the short term.

Further, in these cases, as far as I can see, there were no formal complaints to the UN from any entity in these countries given that there were adequate consultations. On the other hand, unlike the UK or Australia, bodies like the UN generally assume countries like Sri Lanka are inherently anti-democratic and therefore need oversight. It is in such a context that the UN Special Rapporteurs have routinely issued communications to other countries that have altered judicial terms. For example, Poland, Hungary, and Bolivia have received such communications when changes to judicial retirement ages or tenure were perceived as attempts by the governments concerned to alter the composition of courts or erode judicial independence. The Sri Lankan case too must be understood in such a situation. The government, on its part, has submitted a six-page response accompanied by two annexures to the Special Rapporteur’s communication on 21 August 2026. It responds fully to the queries raised by the Special Rapporteur rationally. However, if it closes the matter remains to be seen.

The problem in this context is that Sri Lanka has the added complication of having a resolution on its human rights situation in the United Nations Human Rights Council since 2012. The next formal update on this resolution is scheduled for the 63rd session of the UN Human Rights Council taking place from 7 September to 9 October 2026. My concern in internationalising a domestic issue such as the opposition to the 22nd Amendment is that it could feed into the longstanding resolution giving further ammunition to Sri Lanka sceptics and detractors both in and outside the country. This is an unnecessary burden for a country like Sri Lanka lacking the power wielded by mass human rights violators such as Israel and its sponsor the United States. It is also a needless distraction for a country that is trying to reinvent itself. In such a situation, dealing with the sins of the predecessors does not help, more so, when UN impartiality is known to be selective.

The Future of the 22nd

Amendment

The controversy surrounding Sri Lanka’s proposed 22nd Amendment illustrates the delicate equilibrium required in constitutional governance and democratic practice. On a practical level, the government’s argument addresses an undeniable operational crisis. That is, as a means to deal with an overburdened legal system requiring the retention of experienced judicial personnel to deliver timely justice. Yet, on a principled level, constitutional safeguards exist precisely to ensure that procedural mechanisms are insulated from perceived political manipulation. In my mind, the government’s cardinal mistake was not to have wide-ranging consultations and information sharing programmes before the proposal became a contentious issue. This is simply good PR and common sense. Consultations and information sharing do not mean wholesale adherence to opposition positions. It simply means transparency, accepting what is reasonable, not accepting what makes no sense and offering at least a semblance of fair play. This would have also ensured that the government did not need to be overly defensive as it is now. In any case, given its overwhelming majority in parliament, the government does not need any support from the opposition to pass legislation. But it can certainly afford to be politically intelligent, sophisticated and mature in its public demeanor.

When a government alters the terms of service for sitting judges, the primary challenge is rarely the increased age limit. Rather, it is the need to preserve public trust in judicial neutrality. As comparative examples demonstrate, nations can adjust judicial tenure legally and successfully when changes are accompanied by broad professional consensus, prospective application, and transparent legislative processes.

Sri Lanka’s challenge lies in balancing the immediate demands of judicial efficiency against the enduring requirement that constitutional reforms must satisfy both domestic legitimacy and established international standards of judicial independence, particularly in a situation the latter is inherently oppositional to nations who do not have a veto or global political wherewithal to withstand pressure.