Opinion
Constitution making:

A layman’s view
by ROHANA R. WASALA
‘At least since Rousseau’s Social Contract and the end of the divine right of kings, the state has been seen as party to a contract with the people – a contract to guarantee or supply the necessary order in society. Without the state’s soldiers, police and the apparatus of control, we are told, gangs or brigands would take over our streets. Extortion, rape, robbery and murder would rip away the last threads of the “thin veneer of civilization.”’ – Alvin Toffler, Powershift, 1990.
The late Alvin Toffler (American writer, journalist, educator, and businessman) says this while reflecting on the nature of power as one of the most basic social phenomena. ‘Power……implies a world that combines both chance, necessity, chaos and order.’ According to him, we humans ‘share an irrepressible, biologically rooted craving for a modicum of order in our daily lives, along with a hunger for novelty. It is the need for order that provides the main justification for the very existence of government’.
Sri Lankans are currently experiencing, in the raw, a taste of the evils that Toffler says the absence of order would breed, which makes constitution making interesting for them. But what is a constitution? Google offers a simple definition of the term: ‘a body of fundamental principles or established precedents according to which a state or other organization is acknowledged to be governed’.
Now, Professor Jayadeva Uyangoda (‘A very wrong approach to Constitution-making’/The Island/September 29, 2020) opines that the proposed 20A has ‘several major defects’. One key fault, according to him, is that the approach adopted for drafting the amendment is ‘very wrong’. JU offers a number of reasons to explain this alleged wrongness of the ‘approach’: the ‘sponsors and framers’ (I suppose the phrase means the politicians and the legal experts behind the drafting of 20A) refuse to learn ‘constructive lessons from past constitutional reform experiments’, but they have learned some ‘partisan, narrow-minded, politically short-sighted ones’. What he probably means by this becomes clear (not clear enough though) in the rest of his article, but it is doubtful whether his sense of right and wrong in the context is shared by many outside the now diminished anti-nationalist coterie, who occupied the parliament for four and a half years and hexed it with the controversial 19A.
It is not necessary to read further into JU’s article to be able to infer where his own inexcusable biases lie. He is obviously in favour of 13A and 19A forced on the nation from outside, and is against the present government’s sincere effort to remove the obstacles placed on its path by the departing yahapalanaya through its ill-conceived constitutional mixed bag that is 19A, where what is bad is by choice, and what is good is by chance. This is not to argue that the new 20A is perfect in comparison. I share many objections raised in different quarters against the proposed 20A, but I believe that the moot points will be satisfactorily sorted out by the present leaders before they manage to get it through parliament.
The Opposition critics of 20A quite well know that it is, after all, only a stopgap measure to clear the way for the unhindered implementation of the government’s development plans. The government will introduce a completely new Constitution within a year or two. JU’s advice as a political scientist will come in handy then.
The proposed 20A is not an arbitrary piece of legislation that the government is introducing behind the back of the people. There is considerable opposition to some of its articles even within the government ranks. Unlike in the case of 19A, the passage of 20A will be a democratic, above-board affair. The Minister of Justice on behalf of the government issued it as a draft bill for public view and review in all three languages on September 2, 2020. The document clearly specifies what is to be amended, repealed, or replaced. The yahapalana constitutional fraud in the form of 19A is not being repeated. Over this four-week period, some thirty-nine petitions have been filed challenging 20A’s constitutionality before the Supreme Court and they were being heard for the third day (October 2) by a bench of five judges, at the time of writing. The government has already declared that it will abide by the court decision by duly adjusting its response to it. JU’s alarms and warnings are uncalled for.
By the phrase ‘past constitutional reform experiments’, JU must be referring to the making of the first and second republican Constitutions (of 1972 and 1978 respectively) and the substantial number of opportune as well as ad hoc amendments introduced by successive governments since, some of them questionable and controversial, where 19A stands in a class by itself as the best example of the worst type of constitutional reform introduced in Sri Lanka to date. What prompts him to describe them as experiments is probably the fact that he is a political scientist with his indispensable toolkit of academic analysis. My interest as a lay citizen, modestly informed of the original construction and subsequent reform of a constitution, is concerned with how good it is going to be for the largest number of the people of the country, as its supreme law, in the context of the more or less stable social and political realities that are prevailing.
As a Constitution is not holy writ, it is open to appropriate amendments from time to time, in compliance with the will of the people, as and when these realities change; a constitution specifies the legal way to reform or replace it as the case may be. The current 1978 republican constitution as amended up to 2015 (Chapter XII/Articles 82-84) specifies the procedure for amending or repealing the constitution. The people whose memory of the yahapalana misadventure is still fresh are anxiously aware of the necessity of passing the 20A.
Contrary to what JU asserts, the political leaders and the legal luminaries responsible for drafting the proposed 20A, have not forgotten the constructive lessons left by their respective predecessors in the form of Sirimavo Bandaranaike and Colvin R. de Silva (1972), and J.R. Jayewardene and J.A. Wilson (1978). Both Bandaranaike and Jayewardene cared about the country, the people, and the culture. Both displayed firm leadership in governing, and a high level of intellect in statecraft. Sirimavo Bandaranaike had her native wit, and Jayewardene possessed a good education. In April 1971, Bandaranaike nipped the JVP terrorism in the bud, not without some violence, though, that she never intended. Opposition leader Jayewardene approved of her actions, saying, ‘yes, a government must rule’. For her courage, firmness, and composure, she was described then as the only male in her cabinet. The contribution of the inspiration provided by Bandaranaike’s political leadership to the making of the first Republican Constitution, the principal architect of which was de Silva, must have been immense and indispensable. Later, hadn’t Jayewardene got Wilson to write the powerful institution of executive presidency into the second republican constitution (1978) as the main anchor to the unitary state, the sovereign Sri Lankan republic that Bandaranaike and de Silva created for the people would have disintegrated and drifted into wilderness and oblivion by now.
Back to the point.
The second alleged defect that JU asserts, without any evidence to support his opinion, is that ‘the framers of the 20A are not motivated by the broader democratic interests of all Sri Lankan people, but the ‘political self-interest’ (of someone or group that JU avoids mentioning). A third defect, JU identifies the Amendment’s supposed lack of ‘a democratic formative framework relevant to our society and its own progressive-modernist legacies of constitutionalism .. (together with the fact that).. it builds itself on one or two dreadful and destructive experiments of constitution-making in the recent past’. This is as close to clear as I can get in interpreting JU here. To illustrate the ‘one or two dreadful and destructive experiments of constitution-making in the recent past’, I think, he draws upon what he, assuming a kind of arbitrary academic license, calls the ‘relatively long history of unmaking, making, and amending constitutions’ that includes the 1972 and 1978 exercises on the one hand, and the 1978C and 18A on the other. JU’s adjectives ‘dreadful and destructive’ could be justifiably applied to the passage of 19A and other such ‘experiments’ in constitutional reform, as contained, for example, in Chapter IV of the Constitution of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka (As amended up to 15th May 2015) (Revised Edition – 2015) issued by the Parliamentary Secretariat. Chapter IV – Language covers Articles 18-25. One is bewildered by what the crafty, ill-meaning, ‘sponsors and framers’ have from time to time done to degrade Sinhala in its official status with the uncomprehending concurrence of some self-seeking Sinhala MPs in the House. This, of course, would be an iconic piece of constitution-making for a theorist with one’s head in the clouds.
The practical reality is that the operative meaning of any Article (whether this is legally contested or not) is implicitly embodied in the English text (though, according to the present constitution Sinhala and Tamil are both official languages, while English is the link language.). So, it is vitally important to translate the draft document that is the Constitution into precise, unambiguous, formal and legally acceptable and uncontestable Sinhala and Tamil. I detected a couple of stark discrepancies between the original English draft and the Sinhala translation (not relating to the particular context – Chapter IV – mentioned above) when I made a very random comparison between the two versions while researching an article at the time, but I don’t remember whether I dwelt on the subject long enough for it to be taken notice of by the reader as something important, though beyond the central scope of that article. Apart from this, those sufficiently informed did not fail to see how some Tamil lawmakers wanted to openly hoodwink the Sinhalas with the word ‘akeeya’ stripped of its intended original meaning of unitary, but falsely insisting that the English term ‘unitary’ was not its equivalent and was not suitable as a translation, and started talking about an ‘Orumiththa Nadu’, reminiscent of Tamil Nadu. How the question which version should prevail in case of an incongruence between the Sinhala and Tamil texts should be resolved, I can’t remember having been discussed. But the last item (58) of the published draft of 20A runs: ‘In the event of any inconsistency between the Sinhala and Tamil texts of this Act, the Sinhala text shall prevail.’
Having outlined the lessons to be learnt from constitution-making, -unmaking, and -reforming exercises up to 18A, JU moves on to the many lessons that he thinks may be drawn from the ‘much maligned’ 19A. He identifies four key lessons. The first lesson he mentions is that wide public consultation is useful, and helps ‘improve the level of democratic health in the polity’. I cannot agree with him that this was true about the drafting of 19A. It was claimed that the constitutional experts including Jayampathy Wickremaratne, presumably its principal drafter, toured the country meeting with individuals and representatives of many minority civil groups during a short period of two or three months. They had to rush the job, they said, as they were in a hurry to finish it within a stipulated time frame. About two thousand people were consulted nevertheless, they claimed. It was obvious that they roamed the country making it their main aim to pay more attention to the minorities that they had decided were discriminated against by the majority Sinhalese, as they wanted the meddling foreign powers to believe in order to justify their interventionist excesses in the internal and external politics of the country. Meanwhile they paid only symbolic attention to the Sinhalese majority. Wickremaratne, the chief architect of the fraudulent document, is now rumoured/reported to have found or is seeking political asylum in Australia or somewhere (though there is absolutely no possibility of his being targeted for persecution in Sri Lanka). He has reportedly admitted that 19A is problematic.
The second lesson that JU asserts he can learn from the making of 19A is that it is ‘better to build consensus across all political parties in Parliament for a major amendment or a new Constitution’. If he means that 19A set a negative example of that principle, then he has a case. But in actuality, 19A destroyed the burgeoning interparty consensus in Parliament and the growing intercommunal goodwill in the broader society that the MR government achieved in the wake of victory over terrorism. It was because of this that ‘for partisan political reasons, some might later withdraw from the consensus’ as JU laments.
I agree with JU on the third lesson he derives from his seemingly iconic amendment, which is that ‘If the consultation and consensus-building in constitution-making is not politically managed with clarity of purpose, the overall goals of the constitutional compromise may run the risk of producing a constitutional scheme with potentially harmful internal anomalies and contradictions’. Yes, in other words, 19A is a very good illustration of a very bad constitutional amendment.
The fourth lesson that 19A offers, according to JU, is that ‘a democratic constitution-making exercise today needs, more than ever, an unwavering political leadership to champion it through to the end by innovative and imaginative democratic means’. In my opinion, this is what the pre-2015 government achieved. 19A, by dismantling it, demonstrated how ill the nation fared in the absence of such unwavering, innovative, and democratic leadership. Then, JU starts chewing his own tail, by suggesting a ‘paradoxical’ reason: ‘Alternatives to democracy are also competing with democracy, with enormous material resources, to gain popular support and loyalty through democratic means. In this age of right-wing populism, media-manufactured popular consent and manipulation of public perceptions through information pollution, post-democratic alternatives tend to gain easy currency and public legitimacy’. Frankly, I can’t make head or tail of this, but it makes me wonder whether JU is trying to make light of the very real persecution of the majority community that is hardly recognized by most mainstream politicians, who feel obliged to find refuge behind political correctness.
Opinion
East awaits PM Modi’s visit

Former Vice Chancellor, Eastern University
President, Batticaloa District Chamber of Commerce, Industries, and Agriculture (BDCCIA)
It has been announced that Prime Minister of India Narendra Modi will be visiting Sri Lanka this week
It is also understood that the Prime Minister will meet the Sri Lankan leaders and hold formal meetings for discussion and action. There will likely be many issues on the agenda.
However, in a country with centuries-old ties to India and a significant population with strong affiliations to the Indian people, it will be a pity if the Prime Minister were to limit his engagements to government representatives alone. While parliamentarians may be an obvious choice for meetings, they have already engaged with Indian counterparts frequently. It would be more relevant for the Prime Minister to meet with representatives from business sectors, trade unions, and chambers of commerce to gain a broader and more practical understanding of Sri Lanka’s economic landscape and its relations with India.
The Eastern Province, in particular, has a special claim for attention. The Indian government has previously indicated its commitment to developing the East, and it is crucial to have direct discussions with communities in the Eastern Province to understand their issues and the agreements India is willing to pursue in relation to development. If this does not happen, the Eastern Province risks being, once again, misled by promises that never materialise—a mirage that keeps its people hopeful but ultimately unfulfilled. The East has long remained in the blind spot of development, acknowledged but never truly engaged, resulting in rising poverty and unemployment. It desperately needs a concrete programme for meaningful restoration and growth.
Batticaloa, in particular, lacks both the political backing that Ampara enjoys and the economic advantage of Trincomalee, which benefits from its harbour. Without targeted intervention, Batticaloa and other underserved areas in the East will continue to lag behind.
India needs to be more aware of the Eastern Province’s potential if it is to play a constructive role in its development. The region is naturally gifted with abundant resources, making it highly suitable for agriculture, fisheries, dairy farming, and tourism. It has vast lagoons, water bodies (Thonas) that connect to the sea, forests, and coastal ecosystems—elements that create immense economic potential. India has expertise in all these sectors, and tourism, in particular, could thrive with increased engagement, given the presence of Hindu temples of cultural and religious significance to the Indian population.
The dry zone, which dominates the North and East, shares similarities with Indian landscapes, making it ideal for cultivating crops and flowers with mutual trade agreements. Expanding fisheries within the 200-mile exclusive economic zone in the East, as well as harnessing ocean floor resources, presents a valuable opportunity for both India and the Eastern Province. Additionally, the large cattle population in the region could greatly benefit from India’s expertise in dairy production, as India is the world’s largest milk producer. The vast lagoons in the East rival those of Kerala, offering significant potential for inland tourism with boat services and associated activities.
The scope for development is clear, but what remains uncertain is India’s real commitment as a development partner, as stated by the Sri Lankan government. The Prime Minister’s visit must engage with all communities to ensure transparency and assurance that the East will not be left behind.
It is also crucial for the Eastern Province to be treated with the same level of importance as the North. The North has its own dedicated branch of the Indian High Commission, and the Malayagam community has established formal links with India. However, the Eastern Province appears to be the forgotten limb in this equation, and this neglect must be addressed.
The Eastern Province also continues to grapple with unresolved issues from the past conflict, including physical and cultural encroachments. The region was separated from the North through a court ruling two decades after the Indo-Sri Lanka Agreement’s merger of the North and East, yet it has never had the referendum required by law. India’s interests in Trincomalee and its harbour are well known, but the larger population of the Eastern Province is still awaiting India’s engagement in the region’s overall development. The people in the East want India to be truly committed to facilitating progress in their region, and will eagerly look to see that its actions reflect that commitment.
Let us hope that this visit brings a mirror of true reflection and action, rather than be another mirage of unfulfilled promises.
by Prof. Emeritus Thangamuthu Jayasingam
Opinion
Truth and Reconciliation Commission for Sri Lanka: Issues and challenges

D. Phil. (Oxford), Ph. D. (Sri Lanka);
Rhodes Scholar, Quondam Visiting Fellow of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge and London;
Former Vice-Chancellor and Emeritus Professor of Law of the University of Colombo.
I. The Domestic and International Setting
The establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission is a matter of lively interest across our society at this time. Developments a few days ago at the international level make this issue immediately relevant to the national interest of Sri Lanka.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Vijitha Herath, in his address at the 58th Session of the Human Rights Commission in Geneva in February this year, expressed interest in “the contours of a strong truth and reconciliation framework” and committed his government to “strengthening the work” in this field.
Current preoccupation with this concept has both a domestic and an international impetus. Within the country, the overwhelming confidence placed by the people of the North and East, as part of an Islandwide avalanche, in the current National People Power administration, impels the Government to focus, as a matter of priority, on national healing and reconciliation.
Beyond our shores, the expectation is equally urgent. The United Nations Human Rights Council, over the last decade, has adopted no fewer than 6 Resolutions on Sri Lanka. The pivotal Resolution, co-sponsored by Sri Lanka in 2015, called for a Commission for Truth, Justice, Reconciliation and Non-Recurrence. Subsequent Resolutions, expressing concern over lack of progress and the need for international accountability, introduced a new – and potentially hazardous – dimension. This consisted of the creation of a uniquely intrusive mechanism to gather and analyse evidence relating to Sri Lanka as a launching pad for further action in international tribunals.
Against the backdrop of these initiatives, a series of legislative measures have been taken in Sri Lanka – principally the enactment of the Office of Missing Persons Act of 2016, the Office for Reparations Act of 2018 and the Office of National Unity and Reconciliation Act of 2024. However, a hiatus remains with regard to the overarching mechanism of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
In attempting to complete the edifice, it is natural that policy makers in Sri Lanka should seek to derive assistance from the experience of South Africa, the home of probably the best-known Commission of this kind in the world. Inadequately and superficially researched, the proposed Sri Lankan legislation, published in the Gazette of 29 December 2023, suffers by comparison with legislation in other countries: it is marred by glaring omissions, and reflects shallowness of understanding of the aspirations which undergird successful instruments of reconciliation in our time.
II. The South African Experience Compared
The overlapping and contrasting features of Sri Lankan and South African legislation warrant close analysis.
(a) Territorial Application
There is a crucial difference in this regard. The mandate in South Africa embraces the whole nation without qualification (Preamble and section 3 of Act No. 34 of 1995). By contrast, the proposed mandate in Sri Lanka is operative throughout the Island, but only where the atrocities in question “were caused in the course of, or reasonably connected to, or consequent to the conflict which took place in the Northern and Eastern Provinces during the period 1983 to 2009, or its aftermath” (section 12(i)).
This is a limitation which cannot but affect the completeness of the Commission’s work. For instance, among the Commission’s powers is that of applying to a Magistrate “to excavate sites of suspected graves or mass graves and to act as observers at such excavations or exhumations” (section 13 (2c)). This is relevant also to areas outside the Northern and Eastern Provinces, and curtailment of the Commission’s mandate detracts from the overall balance and value of its work.
(b) Structural Framework
The South African legislation envisages 3 Committees specifically established alongside the Commission – the Committee on Human Rights Violations, the Committee on Amnesty and the Committee on Reparation and Rehabilitation. Each of these Committees has a statutory mandate and function, the role of each being clearly defined in relation to the Commission.
The Sri Lankan Bill is much less precise and clear-cut.The corresponding provision empowers the Commission to appoint panels consisting of not less than 3 members, the members being assigned to panels by the Chairperson of the Commission (section 7(2)). Unlike in South Africa, there is no indication of either the number of panels, or the subject matter entrusted to each panel. A tighter conceptual scheme, with explicit definition of identity and scope, is desirable at this conjuncture.
(c) Reconciliation and the Judiciary
Investigation which the Commission in Sri Lanka is authorised to undertake encompasses a wide range of activity including “extrajudicial killings, assassinations and mass murders” (section 12(g)(i)), “acts of torture” (section 12(g)(ii)) and “abduction, hostage taking and enforced disappearances” (section 12(g)(iv)). These are grave crimes in respect of which proceedings are instituted before the regular courts. In this event, should judicial proceedings, of a civil or criminal nature, be suspended until conclusion of the Commission’s investigations, or vice versa, or should they take place concurrently?
This is a matter of obvious practical importance which receives detailed consideration in South Africa, but not at all in Sri Lanka. For instance, where the person seeking amnesty before the relevant Committee in South Africa has a civil action in court pending against him, he may request suppression of the proceedings pending disposal of the application before the Committee (section 19(6)). The court may, after hearing all relevant parties, accede to this request. Similarly, a criminal action may be postponed in consultation with the Attorney-General of the relevant Province. These provisions serve the salutary purpose of averting the risk of conflicting orders by the courts and a Committee of the Commission in simultaneous proceedings. The Sri Lankan Bill fails to make any provision against this unacceptable contingency.
(d) Protection and Compellability
Discovery of truth requires the compulsory attendance of witnesses and the production of evidence before the Commission or its delegate. There is a the equally critical need, in subsequent proceedings, to protect witnesses against incrimination by testimony obtained through compulsion. These are competing objectives which need to be reconciled equitably.
This is achieved by the South African legislation: a person will be compelled to answer or produce evidentiary material having the potential to incriminate him, only if the Commission is satisfied that this course of action is “reasonable, necessary and justifiable” (section 31(2)). Moreover, the vital proviso is attached that the incriminating answer or evidence is inadmissible in criminal proceedings against the person providing it. This is a satisfactory result.
The position in Sri Lanka is quite otherwise. There is provision for the Commission to summon any person or to procure material (section 13(t) and (u)). This exists side by side with provision empowering the Attorney-General “to institute criminal proceedings in respect of any offence based on material collected in the course of an investigation by the Commission” (section 16(2)). Vulnerability is enhanced by the removal of protection conferred by the Evidence Ordinance (section 13(y)). In stark contrast with the position in South Africa, there is singular absence of any provision against self-incrimination in Sri Lanka.
(e) Amnesty
The basic purpose of Truth and Reconciliation Commissions around the world is to enable victims to come to terms with a deeply scarred past and to face the future with dignity and self-assurance. This is the gist of the Greek concept of Katharsis, or purging of the soul. Through full and candid disclosure, involving unburdening and relief, comes the expiation of guilt.
This is the context in which the idea of amnesty occupies a central place in the scheme of reconciliation. The Committee on Amnesty is the centrepiece of South African legislation. The primacy of its function is underlined by the provision that “No decision, or the process of arriving at such a decision, of the Committee on Amnesty shall be reviewed by the
Commission” (section 5(e)). The status of this Committee is unique, standing as it does apart from, and indeed above, the other Committees. An application for amnesty succeeds in South Africa if there is genuine contrition manifested in complete disclosure of all relevant facts (section 20(i)).
Sri Lankan law takes an entirely different course. Although the proposed Bill postulates, as one of the main objectives of the Commission “providing the people of Sri Lanka with a platform for truth telling” (section 12(d)), no provision whatever is made for conferment of amnesty in consequence of uninhibited disclosure. At the core of the law, there is a policy contradiction, with practical implications.
III. Political Will
Apart from these infirmities, cumulatively worrying, there is a negative factor of far greater importance.
When the draft legislation in Sri Lanka was published in January 2024, the response was less than unreservedly enthusiastic. This was mainly because of lingering doubts about the strength of political will underpinning this initiative. By no means the initial overture, this was yet another step in a long and disheartening sequence of events. The Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission, the Udalagama Commission and the Paranagama Commission represented together a sterile endeavour, for well over a decade, to address the salient issues. The Bill impliedly concedes this. What is of particular significance is the inclusion, in Part VIII of the Bill, of a set of provisions entitled “Implementation of the Commission’s Recommendations”. The key provision requires the setting up of a Monitoring Committee (section 39) consisting of the Secretaries of 5 Ministries and 6 others, to submit to the President every 6 months reports which “shall include the reasons for non-implementation” (section 40(9)) by relevant entities. This is hardly likely to engender a high threshold of confidence.
A critical component of political will is commitment to community participation. This was much in evidence in South Africa even before Nelson Mandela’s accession to the Presidency. In my academic career, during visits to the University of the Witwatersrand and the University of Cape Town on lecture tours, I observed at first hand, the sustained efforts by leaders of South African academia to convince the corporate sector that structural change is the preferable alternative to unbridled anarchy.
As Minister of Justice, Ethnic Affairs and National Integration in the Government of President Chandrika Kumaratunga, I interacted closely with my counterparts,Dullah Omar, Minister of Justice and Mandela’s personal lawyer and Valli Moosa, Minister of Constitutional Affairs, who even used pictorial images, rather than the printed word, to convey the central message of reconciliation to the vast mass of the people, especially in the rural hinterland. This was very much the wind beneath the wings, and supplied the thrust for intense community involvement.
IV. Role of an Icon
Rising above all these considerations is a circumstance which was brought home to me vividly during my participation, as Minister of Foreign Affairs, in the Commonwealth Summit in Kigali, Rwanda, in 2022. On the sidelines of this event, I had the benefit of a discussion with my South African counterpart, Ms. Naledi Pandor, at the time Minister of International Relations and Cooperation. She shared with me her perspective that, whatever the South African process accomplished, was in considerable measure attributable to the towering stature of Archbishop Desmond Tutu who enjoyed remarkable prestige across the nation. An emblematic figure as the visible symbol of the process is, therefore, vital, the ideal choice probably being a personality bereft of a prominent political profile. Qualities of leadership are, in practice, of even greater value than the structural characteristics of the Commission.
V. Restorative Justice
The abiding inspiration of reconciliation mechanisms arises from the idea of restorative, as opposed to retributive, justice; but this concept has intrinsic limits. In the South African case, pride of place was given to sincere truth telling which would overcome hatred and the primordial instinct for revenge. The vehicle for giving effect to this was amnesty. Not infrequently, however, this opportunity was spurned. Despite the personal intervention of Mandela, former State President P. W. Botha was adamant in his refusal to appear before the Commission which he denounced as “a fierce unforgiving assault” on Afrikaaners. This sentiment struck a compliant chord in many leaders of the security and military establishment under the apartheid regime. Among them were General Magnus Malan, former Minister of Defence, and General Johan van der Merwe, former Commissioner of the South African Police.
Contemptuous refusal to appear before the Commission led to criminal prosecution. Eugene de Kock, commander of a police death squad, was convicted on multiple counts of murder. An interesting case is that of Security Branch officer, Joao Rodrigues, who was charged with murder 47 years after the death of anti-apartheid activist, Ahmed Timol, in police custody. When repentance and amnesty failed, criminal responsibility took over.
At the heart of the discourse is interplay among the ideas of truth, justice and reconciliation. Search for the right balance is the perennial dilemma. The basic conflict is between amnesty and accountability. A legitimate criticism of the South African experience is that it tended, on occasion, to give disproportionate attention to the former at the expense of the latter. It did happen that grave crimes went unpunished, leaving victims, after the trauma of reliving the past, profoundly unfulfilled.
Diverse cultures offer an array of choices. In Argentina, the power to grant amnesty was withheld from the Commission. In Colombia, disclosure resulted not in total exoneration but in mitigation of sentence. In Chile, prosecutions were feasible only after a prolonged interval since the dismantling of Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship. In Peru, individual sanctions were studiedly relegated to major economic and societal transformation in the wake of the ravaging conflict with Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path).
An eclectic approach, affording the fullest scope for selection and imaginative adaptation, is the way forward. There is no size that fits all.
By Professor G. L. Peiris
Opinion
Gnana Moonesinghe- an appreciation

It was just over one month ago that Gnana Moonesinghe departed from this world after having lived a very fruitful life on this earth. It was indeed a privilege that Mallika and I came to know Gnana after we moved into Havelock City. During that short period, we became very close friends, along with another mutual friend of ours, Dr. Disampathy Subesinghe, who, too, was living in the same Tower after having come from the United Kingdom. Unfortunately, Dr. Subesinghe pre-deceased Gnana.
Gnana was a graduate of the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya having been at Peradeniya during the halcyon days of that University.
She tied the nuptial knot with Mangala Moonesinghe who was a very respected politician and who served as our High Commissioner in London and New Delhi. She was an exceptional hostess while being the wife of the High Commissioner. It was a very interesting coincidence that our second son, Anuke, had won a trip to New Delhi having won an All-Island essay competition about India while still a schoolboy. The team had met the High Commissioner and Gnana when they attended a reception hosted at the High Commission, where Gnana had been an exceptional hostess to the young boys.
Gnana was a member of many organisations and played an important role in all of them. In addition to these activities, she contributed to newspapers on varied subjects, especially relating to good governance and reconciliation. She was a keen player of scrabble and rummy with her friends and of course entertaining them to a meal if played at her home.
It was while in New Delhi that Gnana wrote and published a book titled “Thus have I heard…”in the year 2009 and she presented a copy to me). This book gives lucid descriptions of the Buddhist teachings of the Buddha and the places of interest in India with historical descriptions of what transpired in each place.
Gnana had brought up a very good daughter Avanthi and a son Sanath. She doted on her grandchildren and in turn they loved her. It was Avanthi and her husband, Murtaza who looked after Gnana during the last stages of her life.
We will miss Gana’s hospitality, soft spoken conversations, and the love that she used to emanate towards her friends.
HM NISSANKA WARAKAULLE
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