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Protection of Occupants Bill: Good, Bad and Ugly

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I.Protection of Occupants Bill: The government has introduced two Bills, namely, the Rent (Repeal) Bill and the Protection of Occupants Bill which – if enacted – will have the effect of radically reforming the rent laws of our country. These two Bills were gazetted in September 2025 and tabled in Parliament on 20th January, 2026. Although several petitions were filed before the Supreme Court, challenging the constitutionality of these Bills, the Attorney-General informed the court that the two Bills would not be proceeded with in their present form, but would, instead, be referred to an expert committee for consideration. Accordingly, the petitions were withdrawn and the Supreme Court informed the Speaker that no formal determination would be made on the constitutionality of the said Bills in their present form. In parallel to these legal developments, the Ministry of Justice and National Integration has requested the members of the public to submit their comments, suggestions, or proposals regarding these Bills by 04th March, 2026. The Minister of Justice has also assured that he would not take any steps in relation to the two Bills until this consultative process is completed. Therefore, a clear need and opportunity has arisen for a vibrant public discussion on the proposed legislation. The purpose of this lecture is to contribute to this discussion by assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the two Bills in light of their historical, political, social and economic context.

II. The Rent Act and its objective

The Rent Act No. 7 of 1972 is a landmark piece of legislation which was introduced by Mr. Pieter Keuneman, the Minster of Housing at the time. The purpose of the Act was to confer significant protection on tenants through means such as restricting the increase of rent, giving security of tenure for the tenant and formalising the process of ejectment. The Rent Act of 1972 was a bold response to the lived realities of law in society. From a doctrinal perspective, the formation of a valid contract requires animus contrahendi (the intention to enter into a contract). However, it is widely acknowledged that parties to a contact may not be equal in terms of bargaining strength. One party may be stronger than the other, both economically and socially. In such situations, the function of the law is to protect the weaker party in his dealings with the stronger party. The assumption underlying the Rent Act was that the landlord was in a far stronger position than the tenant. Thus, the law was utilised to protect the interests of the more vulnerable party, namely the tenant. This objective of the Rent Act also closely aligned with the personal philosophy of Mr. Keuneman who was a prominent member of the Communist Party, of Sri Lanka. While the Rent Act was subsequently amended in 1976, 1977, 1980 and 2002, the original legislative scheme which safeguarded the rights of the tenants remained intact. What is proposed under the Protection of Occupants Bill, however, is a fundamental departure from the premises of that law.

III. Protection of Occupants Bill: An Overview

A close comparison between the Rent Act and the Protection of Occupants Bill shows that the safeguards afforded to the occupants under the latter (Clauses 3 (a), (b) and 4) are almost identical to the provisions of the former (Sections 13(1), 15 and 16). They both prevent the landlord from discontinuing or withholding the amenities previously provided to the tenant; damaging the premises to induce or compel the tenant to vacate the premises; and refusing to maintain the premises in proper condition. Yet, there is one crucial difference between the Rent Act and the Protection of Occupants Bill in relation to these safeguards. The rights and privileges enjoyed by a tenant under the Rent Act are not absolute. The tenant is being protected by the law only so long as he is complying with the terms and conditions of the tenancy agreement. The 1972 Act, therefore, operates on the assumption that a tenant is honouring his contractual obligations while enjoying the rights under the Act. The conditional nature of these safeguards is amply evident from the provisions of the Act.

For example, section 15 of the Rent Act prevents the landlord from discontinuing amenities provided to the tenant ‘without reasonable cause’. Thus, the landlord is not prevented from discontinuing the amenities at all times but only without reasonable cause. The breach of the contractual obligations by the tenant would surely constitute a reasonable cause for the landlord to discontinue the amenities provided by him to the tenant. By contrast, the language used in the Protection of Occupants Bill does not indicate any limitations on the exercise of the safeguards afforded by the Bill except the preliminary requirement under clause 2 that undisturbed and uninterrupted occupation for three months is necessary for the application of the Bill. In other words, any person who has been in lawful occupation of premises for three months acquires an accrued right to enjoy the safeguards mentioned in the Bill unless he is stopped from doing so by a court order.

Consequently, even if the tenancy agreement between landlord and tenant may have come to an end or the tenant may be in breach of the terms of the agreement, or he is using the premises for a completely different purpose, his rights and privileges remain unaffected. Recourse to the judicial process is the only avenue available for the landlord to revoke the safeguards given to the tenant even when the latter has blatantly breached the terms of his contract. Reciprocity and mutuality are the fundamental concepts that underlie the Rent Act, as the tenant’s protection under that Act is dependent on the reciprocity of obligations. Protection of Occupants Bill, on the other hand, provides a unilateral framework for the tenants to assert their rights without paying due regard to the interests of the landlord.

It is also important to mention, at this point, that the Protection of Occupants Bill makes an artificial and unjustifiable difference between the right of a tenant not to be ejected and the other safeguards provided to him under the Bill. In terms of clause 5, the landlord shall not eject an occupant in contravention of the terms and conditions of the lease agreement, or tenancy agreement. The necessary implication of this clause is that the landlord can eject an occupant in terms of the agreement between him and the tenant. Such a caveat is absent in the other provisions of the Bill that deal with the rights of an occupant.

Accordingly, there is a blanket prohibition on the landlord in discontinuing or withholding the amenities previously provided to the occupant or refusing to maintain the premises in proper condition. The landlord cannot take these actions even as per the agreement to which the tenant himself has given his consent. Apart from the absence of a rational basis to require the landlord to follow the tenancy agreement in ejecting a tenant but then to prevent him from doing the same with regard to the other less severe actions that he can resort to when the tenant is in breach of the contract, such a distinction also creates unfairness and inequality. Ejection of a tenant requires manpower and therefore, monetary resources as well. While a landlord who is capable of affording personnel to eject his tenant is benefited under the Bill, a landlord with modest means is left with no options other than a lengthy and cumbersome judicial process even when it is abundantly clear that his tenant is in violation of the tenancy agreement.

IV. Internal Inconsistencies in the Bill

The Protection of Occupants Bill is also poorly drafted and, thus, contains several internal inconsistencies. For example, clause 2 of the Bill provides that a person must be ‘in lawful occupation of a premises’ for him to invoke the provisions of the Bill. The term ‘occupation’ is defined in clause 13 which states that a person can be in occupation of a premises only ‘with the consent of the landlord.’ If a landlord has taken the actions mentioned above, such as discontinuing the amenities, the ‘aggrieved occupant’ is entitled to institute an action in a Court,

seeking the reliefs specified in that clause. Paradoxically, however, when a person goes to the Court to institute such actions, he is no longer ‘an occupant’ because all the eventualities against which a court order can be obtained, such as discontinuing amenities, refusing to maintain the premises, damaging the property, or ejecting the occupant, give an unmistakable indication that the person affected does not have the consent of the landlord to stay in the premises anymore. The withdrawal of the landlord’s consent is the irresistible conclusion that can be drawn from the aforementioned actions or omissions. Therefore, according to the definition of ‘occupation’ in clause 13, no person, who has faced the resistance of the landlord in the manner described in the Bill, can institute an action before the Court as he is no longer an ‘occupant’ with the landlord’s consent to stay in the premises.

V. A flawed rationale?

In addition to these structural flaws in the Protection of Occupants Bill, the rationale behind the same can also be questioned. It seems that the aim of the Bill is to bridge the gap between Haves and Have nots. It is assumed that the tenant is weaker than the landlord, both economically and socially. Thus, the Bill seeks to protect the rights of the weaker party i.e. the tenant from the arbitrary actions of the landlord. This is an extension of the political philosophy that influenced Mr. Keuneman to introduce the Rent Act. However, due to the unqualified protection given to the tenant, under the proposed new law, there is a serious question as to whether this political philosophy can truly be realised if the Bill is to be enacted in its present form. Suppose that there is a government servant who wants to build a house for his daughter. He may not be rich but manages to buy a land and build a house for his daughter with his salary. He may also want to rent the house until the daughter is married and collect the rent for his daughter’s marriage.

If the tenant, who lives in this house, stops paying the rent and also refuses to leave the property, there is nothing that this government servant can do except seeking a court order to eject him by spending more money and engaging in a lengthy trial that may take years to reach a final determination on the matter. He, of course, does not have the manpower to eject the tenant, but the Bill prevents him from engaging in unharmful actions, such as discontinuing amenities or refusing to maintain the premises, as well. He cannot collect the rent nor can he give the property to his daughter. In such a situation, the landlord becomes the victim as the Protection of Occupants Bill enables the tenant to abuse his rights. The theory of haves and have nots, which is supposed to be promoted by the Bill, breaks down at this point. The assumption that the have nots will be protected by this Act when they are pitted against the haves is simply not borne out when the provisions of the Bill are subject to pragmatic considerations of this kind.

VI. Impact on Banks

The Protection of Occupants Bill will also have a negative impact on the banking system of our country. Landlords often put their houses up as collateral for bank loans. Under the Recovery of loans by Banks (Special Provisions) Act No. 4 of 1990, the bank is empowered to sell such property at a public auction if the landlord fails to pay the money back to the bank, with the stipulated interest. It will be extremely difficult for the bank to exercise this right if the Protection of Occupants Bill is enacted without any amendments. Under the provisions of the Bill, a tenant may refuse to leave the premise, despite the breach of his contractual obligations. The bank then cannot sell the property with a tenant as it lacks vacua possessio (vacant possession). In any event, no person will buy a house with a tenant, specially when he knows that the presence of the tenant cannot be resisted under the proposed law. Thus, the bank loses its money due to its inability to sell the collateral and by extension, the members of the public, who deposited their money in the bank, will also suffer that loss.

VII. Impact on Condominium Property

With the increase of population in the urban areas, condominium property has become a convenient option for people who are looking for housing in major cities like Colombo, Kandy and Galle. Unfortunately, the Protection of Occupants Bill is bound to have a detrimental impact on at least three parties in a condominium. First, if the tenant of an apartment in the condominium does not pay his rent, the landlord, who owns the condominium, and expects to earn a certain profit from it, is undoubtedly affected. If a considerable number of tenants refuse to pay the rent, it will be difficult for the landlord to continue with his business. Second, in every condominium complex, there is a management committee which looks after the amenities and other facilities given to the apartments in that complex. However, if a tenant breaches the terms of his contract, the managers will be in a precarious position where they are compelled, under the proposed law, to provide those facilities to someone who has not honoured his contractual obligations towards to the maintenance of the condominium. Finally, the other residents in the condominium complex will be subject to grave injustice as there is a tenant who is immune from any deterrence for the breach of his contract while they continue to pay the rent and fulfil other obligations. Therefore, the condominium industry will severely be affected in multiple ways if the Protection of Occupants Bill is enacted in its current form.

VIII. Judicial process

The proponents of the Bill argue that the aim of the Bill is simply to formalise the actions that can be taken by the landlord when the tenant is in breach of the terms of his contract. It is, therefore, pointed out that if a tenant goes to the Court against the actions of the landlord, such as discontinuing the amenities or refusing to maintain the premises in proper condition, the latter can justify his actions by referring to the breach of the tenancy agreement. In fact, clause 7 (4) lays down time limits for the completion of cases that arise under the proposed legislation. In an uncontested case, the Court is required to deliver the final judgment within 3 months and if the claims of the occupant are contested by the landlord, 9 months are given for the completion of the case. What these provisions seem to have overlooked is the backlog of cases in District Courts which will be dealing with such cases if the Bill is enacted. It is highly doubtful whether these time limits can be adhered to by the District Courts in the midst of other civil actions, such as testamentary cases, divorce cases and property disputes which occupy a significant portion of the Courts’ daily schedule. In any event, a person aggrieved by an order of the court can appeal and no time limits have been prescribed for the appeal process. Most importantly, under clause 6(2), an occupant can obtain interim relief to maintain the status quo of the premises. The effect of this provision is that even an occupant, who is in breach of his contract, can obtain an interim order to maintain the status quo and thereby prevent the landlord from enforcing the contract until the completion of the case. It is convenient for the lawmakers to lay down time limits for cases in a statute but as the previous experiences have shown, the implementation of such limits, in practice, is exceedingly difficult.

IX. Social Impact

The Protection of Occupants Bill is likely to have a catastrophic impact on the social fabric of our country. With all the above hazards discussed above, nobody will buy a house and rent it out anymore. Renting a house, under the proposed legislation, will become a considerable risk which only very few people will be prepared to take. Consequently, there will be a drastic reduction of the housing stock and the number of houses and apartments available will fall drastically. In response, there will be an inevitable rise in rent values. The objective of the Bill to protect the rights of the tenants is most certainly commendable. However, the function of the law is to balance competing interests in society without conferring undue advantage or disadvantage on a particular social group. As former Dean of the Harvard Law School, Roscoe Pound, has argued, making of law is an exercise in social engineering. Law must balance different interests in society and come up with an equitable solution. However, the proposed legislation leads to unfairness towards landlords, banks, dispositors and several parties in condominiums. From all these perspectives, impact of the proposed legislation is negative. The cumulative effect of all these consequences makes the Protection of Occupants Bill a counter-productive law which fails to achieve its purpose. Therefore, significant amendments are required before the proposed Bill is enacted into law.

Guest lecture delivered in the Faculty of Law, University of Colombo,
by Emeritus Professor G. L. Peiris
on 16 February, 2026



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Features

Eshan Malinga keeps getting them in the second half

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Malinga took 4 for 32 against Delhi Capitals, his best bowling figures of the season so far [BCCI]

Life keeps throwing hurdles in his way, but Eshan Malinga keeps vaulting over them. Take his February from hell. For several months, Malinga had been building up to his first ever World Cup, a dream for pretty much anyone who ever picks up a cricket ball. But a week before that World Cup, Malinga dislocated his non bowling shoulder while bowling, which the team’s medical staff have since described as a freak injury they had never seen before.

“I was devastated,” Malinga says. “On top of it being my first World Cup, it was also at home and I didn’t know when I would get that chance again. There were a few days there where I did absolutely nothing.”

And yet in mid-May, here he is grinning from atop a pile of 16 IPL wickets,  having developed a serious reputation as a reverse-swing operator. Sunrisers  Hyderabad’s  explosive batters may have seized the spotlight in this frenetic IPL, but on the bowling front, no SRH bowler has neared Malinga’s wicket haul, which is fifth best in the season overall.  In a year in which they have not had Pat Cummins for seven of their 11 matches, it is Malinga who has held down the fort,  particularly in the second half of the innings.

But trading difficulty for success is just what Malinga does. What he has long been doing. Go back eight years and Malinga had never played a hard-ball cricket match. On top of which his home district of Ratnapura – at the base of Sri Lanka’s central hills – was better known for its gems and waterfalls than cricket, never having produced a men’s international. Malinga, additionally, was not even actively trying to be a cricketer. He had moved from his first school in a village called Opanayake to Ratnapura’s Sivali Central College due to strong academic results, and found, almost by accident, that his new school had a hard-ball cricket team.

But what Malinga knew at that point was that he could bowl fast. That much had been obvious growing up in Opanayaka, where despite his mother’s occasional misgivings, Malinga was highly sought after by the organisers of the village softball team (Sri Lanka has a thriving village-level softball cricket ecosystem). And as had been the case with the better-known Malinga, this one was also aware he possessed a killer yorker – a prized asset in every form of cricket, with any kind of ball.

If he’d been on track to be a softball legend, Malinga found his horizons began to expand at a spectacular rate the moment he got a hard ball in his hands. First, his yorker and his pace began to reap big wickets in the Division Three schools competition for Sivali Central, whose coach had immediately hoisted him into the team upon seeing Malinga bowl at practice one day. Then in mid-2019, about a year into playing hard-ball cricket, came the day he still reflects on as the one that changed his cricketing life. Having missed a fast-bowling competition in Ratnapura because he had been playing for his school that day, Malinga travelled to the hill town of Badulla to bowl in the competition there, and clocked 127kph on the gun, which was enough to win him first place.

This was when he first became a blip, however faint and distant, on Sri Lanka Cricket’s radar. Visions of a cricketing life began to appear as wisps of opportunity began to materialise. The next few years, Covid-riddled though they were, became a crash course into the sport for Malinga. There were coaching camps in Colombo in which the best of the rural talent was trained up and funnelled into a programme at the next level up. There were trials for first-class teams, and eventually a fledgling domestic career.

“I don’t know how many times I came to Colombo from Ratnapura during those times,” he laughs now. “It was a lot! I would leave home at about 3am, and the bus journey to Colombo took about three-and-a-half hours. Then I’d train or play the match, and the bus back home always took longer because of traffic. So every day, I was on the road for more than seven hours.”

The Malinga who made these exhausting daily commutes was, as far as the Sri Lankan cricket system was concerned, a bowler of decent rather than blinding promise. His pace had propelled him to the top of the regional pool, but at the first-class level he was still adapting his yorker and slower ball (another weapon he had developed in his softball days). If he needed another gear, Malinga found it – again almost by accident – sometime in 2022.

“I was playing an Under-23 three-day tournament, and I remember that being the first time I really started reverse-swinging the ball,” he says. “Coaches had anyway told me that with my action and my pace, it should be possible. But it started almost automatically. It’s not something I had to learn.

“But it wasn’t that easy, because it was a long process to learn how to control it. To get reverse swing, you have to release the ball at a different point than a straight ball, because you want it to still hit the stumps when it is swinging. So I scuffed up a lot of balls and trained hard to get that line right.”

And so, the Malinga that emerged at the end of 2022 had sharp enough pace, an excellent yorker, a developing slower ball, mountains of homespun tenacity, and had also discovered that he can naturally reverse-swing the ball earlier in an innings than most. You could have seen where this is going, right? All the ingredients of an ace white-ball bowler were there. And Malinga was already a master of turning wisps of opportunities into tangible advances. Over the next three years, he’d land a spot in the national fast-bowling academy, use that as a trampoline to impress in an Emerging Teams three-dayer against Bangladesh, and from there bounce into a stint at the MRF Pace Academy in 2024, before on the franchise side of things parlaying a trial at Rajasthan Royals at Kumar Sangakkara’s invitation into a decent run at the SA20 for Paarl Royals.

Having leapt up to the fringes of the Sri Lanka team over the past 18 months, Malinga has at this IPL now seized another unusual chance. The square at SRH’s home stadium is among the barest and most abrasive in the league, and Malinga’s reverse swing has prospered upon it. Of his 16 wickets this season, 11 have come at home. In the second half of the innings, when the ball is most likely to reverse, Malinga’s economy rate is 8.37 at a venue where runs have been scored at 9.38 in that period this season.

Malinga had put in a robust 2025 season for SRH as well, so there is a body of work emerging there. Perhaps this is why this year, SRH’s bowling plans have tended to follow the contours of Malinga’s own game.

“After six overs the ball gets damaged here, so we needed to make use of that. When I bowled at practice, the ball reversed, so I think a plan emerged where we were going to use the scuffed up ball and take advantage of that.

“In the first powerplay the ball comes on to the bat nicely here. After that we try to get the advantage of having an older ball. We’ve got bowlers who bowl 140kph-plus, and we have Pat Cummins, who also reverses the ball. So we make sure to look after the ball in a way that will give us reverse.”

At 25, eight years into a serious cricket career, Malinga sees himself as a work in progress. He wants to work on his powerplay bowling. His variations, he thinks, still need some work. He’d like to play Tests, where his reverse swing could really stretch its legs. And, oh, he is still waiting to play that first World Cup.

Even here, his keen nose for opportunity leads him. He points out through the course of our conversation that where the three previous World Cups had been played with a new ball at either end being used right through the innings, the next World Cup, in 2027, will feature rules that seem at least partially designed to enhance reverse swing, an older ball more suited to the craft now available towards the end of the innings.

He isn’t even a sure-fire pick in Sri Lanka’s ODI XI just yet, so this is just a flicker of an opportunity for now. But having made the journey from the village of Opanayaka to the most raucous cricketing showpiece on the planet, Malinga knows just what to do with those.

[Cricinfo]

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High Stakes in Pursuing corruption cases

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Kapila Chandrasena

The death of the most important suspect in the Sri Lankan Airlines Airbus deal has drawn intense public speculation. Kapila Chandrasena the former CEO of the heavily loss-making national airline was found dead under circumstances that the police are still investigating.

He had recently been arrested by the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption in connection with the controversial Airbus aircraft purchase agreement signed in 2013. Police investigations are continuing into the cause of death and whether or not he committed suicide. The unresolved death brings to light the high stakes involved in accountability efforts of this nature.

The uncertainty surrounding Chandrasena’s death has revived public memories of other mysterious deaths linked to corruption investigations and public scandals. Among them is the death of Rajeewa Jayaweera, a former SriLankan Airlines executive and outspoken critic of the Airbus transaction. He was following in the tradition of his father, the late foreign service officer and public servant Stanley Jayaweera who mentored the younger generation in good governance practices and formed the group “Avadhi Lanka” along with icons such as Prof Siri Hettige. Rajeewa had written a series of articles exposing irregularities in the deal before he was found dead near Independence Square in Colombo in 2020. The CCTV cameras in that high security area were turned off. Questions raised at that time whether or not he had committed suicide were not satisfactorily resolved.

The controversy about the cause of Chandrasena’s death is diverting attention away from the massive damage done to the country by the SriLankan Airlines deal itself. The value of the aircraft agreement was close to the size of the International Monetary Fund bailout package that Sri Lanka desperately needed by 2023 in order to stabilise the economy after bankruptcy. Sri Lanka’s IMF Extended Fund Facility amounted to about USD 3 billion spread over four years. The comparison shows the scale of the losses and liabilities that irresponsible and corrupt decisions have imposed on the country and which must never happen again.

Wider Pattern

The corruption linked to the Airbus transaction came fully into the open only because of investigations conducted outside Sri Lanka. In 2020 Airbus agreed to pay record penalties of more than EUR 3.6 billion to authorities in Britain, France and the United States to settle global corruption investigations. Sri Lanka was identified as one of the countries where bribes had allegedly been paid in order to secure contracts. The Airbus deal involved the purchase of six A330 aircraft and four A350 aircraft valued at approximately USD 2.3 billion. Investigations showed that Airbus paid bribes amounting to nearly USD 16 million in order to secure the contract. According to court submissions, at least part of this money amounting to USD 2 million was transferred through a shell company registered in Brunei and routed through Singapore bank accounts linked to the late airline CEO and his wife.

The commissions involved in this deal may seem comparatively small compared to the overall value of the contracts but devastating in their consequences. But they also show that a few million dollars paid secretly to decision makers could lead to the country assuming liabilities worth hundreds of millions or even billions of dollars over decades. This is why corruption is not simply a moral issue. It is a direct economic assault on the living standards of ordinary people. Money lost through corruption is money unavailable for schools, hospitals, rural development and job creation. In the end the burden falls on ordinary citizens who are left to repay debts incurred in their name without receiving commensurate benefits in return.

The SriLankan Airlines transaction gives an indication of the wider pattern of corruption and misuse of national resources that has taken place over many years. This was not an isolated incident. There were numerous large scale infrastructure and procurement projects that imposed heavy debts on the country while enriching politically connected individuals and their associates. Other projects such as the Colombo Port City, Hambantota Harbour and highway construction reveal a similar pattern.

Less publicised but equally damaging scandals have involved fertiliser medicine and energy contracts. Investigations into medicine procurement in recent years uncovered allegations that substandard pharmaceuticals had been imported at inflated prices causing both financial losses and risks to public health.

Moral Renewal

The present government appears determined to investigate major corruption cases in a manner that no previous government has attempted. Those who ransacked and bankrupted the treasury need to be dealt with according to the law. There is considerable public support for efforts to recover stolen assets and ensure accountability.

In his May Day speech President Anura Kumara Dissanayake stated that around 14 corruption cases were nearing completion in the courts this very month and called upon the public to applaud when verdicts are delivered. Political opponents of the government claim that such comments could place pressure on the judiciary and blur the separation between political leadership and the courts. But the deeper public frustration that underlies the president’s remarks also needs to be understood.

The challenge facing Sri Lanka is twofold. The country must ensure that justice is done through due process and independent institutions. If anti corruption campaigns become politicised they can lose legitimacy. But if corruption and abuse of power continue without consequences the country will remain trapped in a cycle of economic decline and moral decay. Sri Lanka also needs to confront past abuses linked to the war period. There are allegations of kidnapping, extortion, disappearances and criminal activity in which members of the security forces have been implicated. Vulnerable sections of the population suffered greatly during those years. If political leaders turned a blind eye or actively connived in such crimes they too need to be held accountable under the law. Selective justice will not heal the country. Accountability must apply across the board regardless of political position, ethnicity or institutional power.

Sri Lanka has paid a very heavy price for corruption and impunity. The economic collapse of 2022 did not occur overnight. It was the result of years of bad governance, reckless decision making, abuse of power and the misuse of public wealth. If the country is to move forward the focus cannot be diverted by sensational speculation alone. Suspicious deaths and political intrigue may dominate headlines for a few days. But the larger issue is the system that enabled corruption to flourish without accountability for so long. The real national task is to end that system. Sri Lanka cannot build a prosperous future on a foundation of corruption and impunity. Unless those who looted public wealth are held accountable and the systems that enabled them are dismantled, the country risks repeating the same cycle again.

Jehan Perera

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When University systems fail:Supreme Court’s landmark intervention in sexual harassment case

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Over seven years after making an initial complaint of sexual harassment against her research supervisor, Dr. Udari Abeyasinghe, then a temporary lecturer and now a senior lecturer at the University of Peradeniya, has been finally served justice. On May 8, 2026, the Supreme Court made the following directions regarding Udari’s fundamental rights case: “1) The 1st Respondent [her research supervisor] is prohibited from accepting any post, whether paid or not or honorary, in any university, educational institute or other academic institution; 2) The UGC to issue a direction to all universities and other institutions, coming under its purview, to abstain from giving any appointment, whether paid or not, or honorary, to the 1st Respondent; and 3) The University of Peradeniya, including the Council and respective Respondent [sic], are directed to take appropriate measures to enforce and raise awareness of the University of Peradeniya’s policy on Sexual or Gender-Based Harassment and Sexual Violence for staff and students, including conducting mandatory annual seminars for all academics, staff and students.” I recently spoke with Udari to learn about her experience battling the University’s sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) procedures.

Violence and injustice

Udari was a temporary lecturer when she began working on her MPhil degree. Her research supervisor was a Senior Professor and Dean of her faculty. The harassment began in 2017.

When Udari reached out for support to the SGBV Committee of the University of Peradeniya, the Chair explained the complaint procedure, including how a third party could make a complaint on her behalf. In July 2018, Udari’s mother made a written complaint to the Vice Chancellor (VC). “The very next day [my supervisor] called me … and asked me to withdraw the complaint because it would look bad for me … the university should have taken measures to separate the complainant from the perpetrator … but nothing like that happened.”

Before making the formal complaint, Udari reached out to other academic staff at her Faculty. She shared her experience with a few close colleagues. Many advised her to leave the Faculty. “No one in the Faculty supported me publicly, although some sympathised privately … I was a temporary lecturer … no one really cared.” Some of her colleagues and non-academic staff who knew about the harassments, asked her to avoid involving them because they feared retaliation from higher powers.

Udari faced a preliminary inquiry and then a formal inquiry. The preliminary inquiry took place about four months after her complaint, and the inquiry committee recommended proceeding to a formal inquiry. The latter was held about a year after the initial complaint. “I got to know unofficially that [my supervisor] had got hold of all the statements made at the preliminary inquiry and pressured some colleagues to change their statements before the formal inquiry.” During the time of the formal inquiry, an anonymous letter (“kala paththaraya”) was circulated among staff: “It was a character assassination … the same kala paththaraya would get circulated from time to time.” After the formal inquiry committee submitted its report and recommendations, Udari was informed, in writing, that the University Council had dismissed the report.

“Neither the preliminary inquiry report nor the formal inquiry report were shared with me … I had to make a formal request to the VC and only then did I get a copy of the preliminary inquiry report… I had to get the formal inquiry report through an RTI (a request under the Right to Information Act). What I understand is that [my supervisor] had influenced the Council … that’s why they rejected the report…saying there had been a delay of six months to make a complaint ….” (N. B. there are no time limitations for submitting a complaint in the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, although such time bars exist at other universities).

Udari then submitted formal complaints to the University Grants Commission (August 2020) and the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (December 2020), and finally filed a fundamental rights case at the Supreme Court in March 2021. Five years later, on May 8th 2026, Udari’s complaint was vindicated.

University procedures and inquiries

When her mother submitted the complaint against her supervisor, Udari was a temporary lecturer. She had given up her dream of pursuing an academic career because she did not think she would be recruited to a permanent position after making a complaint against a faculty member. It is encouraging that Udari was recruited, but in most instances, students and junior staff endure and stay silent to avoid jeopardising their academic careers. We currently have no procedures in place at universities to protect victims and witnesses from backlash.

According to Udari, the former Chair of the SGBV Committee and the members of her preliminary inquiry panel played a crucial role in her case, and, in her words, “could not be influenced.” But SGBV by-laws at state universities place inordinate power in the hands of the Council and VC. According to the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, the Council appoints the 15-member SGBV Committee comprising “[t]wo (02) persons from among the members of the Council; [t]en (10) persons drawn from the permanent and senior members of the academic community; and [t]hree (03) persons external to the University, from among the retired academic or administrative staff of the University” (Section 2.1). While the by-laws recommend appointing persons who have demonstrated “gender-sensitivity, proven interest in working on issues of gender equality and equity, and trained to investigate and inquire into cases of sexual or gender-based harassment and sexual violence” (Section 2.1), we know this is often not the case. In many universities, VCs control which cases are taken up and end up in an inquiry. Most students and staff at state universities have little faith in the existing SGBV complaint procedures.

As Udari experienced, the decisions of inquiry committees can be overruled and dismissed by University Councils, indicating the importance of appointing appropriate members to the Councils. The Deans of faculties, who are Ex-officio members, usually collude to protect their own interests and fiefdoms, while the appointment of external members to Councils is deeply politicised. At present, there is no application process or vetting of candidates before they are appointed. They are usually persons who are seen to be sympathetic to the incumbent political dispensation. Furthermore, external members are dependent on the university hierarchy for information on the issues being discussed, the details of which are often hidden from them. It is not surprising then that University Councils would adjudicate on the side of power.

Final recommendation

Beyond barring Udari’s former research supervisor from holding positions in the university system, the Supreme Court has directed the University of Peradeniya to raise awareness on SGBV among staff and students. While SGBV is addressed in the induction courses and orientation programmes at universities, staff and students must be made aware of the nitty-gritties of complaint procedures, including time bars, which were crucial to the outcome of Udari’s case. But is raising awareness sufficient? Do we have ways to hold university authorities accountable for arbitrary and/or prejudicial decision-making and other abuses of power?

For Udari, life continues to be difficult, with constant surveillance of her activities.

“In November 2024 , I shared a post about my case.. it was a newspaper article stating that the Supreme Court had granted leave to proceed… I just took a photograph of it and posted it on my Facebook without any captions… a few weeks later I was summoned by higher authorities…I was informed that several academics had verbally complained about me using my social media to tarnish the name of the faculty and the university and, if that’s the case, that I should know that the University Council has the authority to take action against me … we also spoke briefly about the case and at one point I was told that this incident (harassment) happened to me because I showed some positivity towards (the perpetrator) …”

Let’s hope that university administrations pause before victimising and revictimising SGBV survivors in future. As a community, we have to rethink the hierarchical ways in which universities function and create a meaningful mechanism that supports students and staff to complain without fear of repercussion.

Thank you, Udari, for taking this step forward. University administrations will have to stop, listen and change their ways.

(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna, and is an alumna of the University of Peradeniya).

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

By Ramya Kumar

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