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The Ambassador, His Swanky New Embassy and the Limits of Diplomatic Immunity

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by MICHAEL SCHAFFER

He was a foreign diplomat with powerful friends at home and immunity in Washington. How did he wind up in federal court for cheating his own country?The U.S. is doing a small developing country’s dirty work in prosecuting its ex-ambassador for fraud, and it may eventually be cause for discomfort along Embassy Row.

In normal cases, for a foreign diplomat with an instinct for pilfering from their own government, Washington represents a safe posting. Far from home, entertainment expenses can be padded, real estate prices exaggerated, lobbying and PR-consultant fees manipulated. The only thing the bean-counters back at the foreign ministry need to know is that the American capital is an expensive place. Thanks to diplomatic immunity, whatever workplace scams get cooked up are unlikely to interest the local authorities here.Still, an unusual proceeding that quietly concluded in a federal courtroom this week suggests there are limits, even with immunity.

The case of former Sri Lankan Ambassador Jaliya Wickramasuriya, who pleaded guilty to defrauding his own government out of $332,000, has gotten significant play in his crisis-stricken home country, where anti-corruption protests this month ousted the president. One of the major complaints against the now-former leader (and his brother, another former president; and their brother, the just-ousted finance minister; and their other brother, a former speaker of parliament) was that they filled the government with crooked relatives.

Case in point: The ex-ambassador, a cousin.In the Sri Lankan press, the fact that the scam had to be prosecuted by the U.S. government — rather than by the government the ambassador actually cheated — has become a sad part of the larger narrative about nepotism and corruption in the nearly two decades that members of the extended Rajapaksa family have dominated national politics.

But in Washington, where the proceedings drew almost no coverage, a foreign envoy facing the American judicial system for stealing from his own treasury is actually a novel phenomenon, and potentially an important one — a spectacle that’s highly unconventional both as a matter of international law and international relations. In addition to offering a rare peek behind embassy walls, the Justice Department’s case against the envoy might just represent a cautionary precedent for future would-be diplomatic chislers.

“It’s extremely unusual,” says Anthony C.E. Quainton, a retired U.S. ambassador and former Assistant Secretary of State for Diplomatic Security. “Most governments are reluctant to surrender their officials to the jurisdiction of another country whose legal system they may or may not approve of. That’s certainly the case with us.”

How this particular diplomat wound up facing a potential five years in federal prison is a twisting saga that involves politics in both countries. It begins in 2005, when nationalist politician Mahinda Rajapaksa was elected president of Sri Lanka and promptly began naming relatives to top posts. One of them was Wickramasuriya, then an Atlanta resident who ran a tea-import business. In 2008, he became his country’s ambassador in Washington.

The swindle, as laid out in the federal indictment and the subsequent guilty plea, took place a few years later, in 2013. The embassy was looking to move out of its townhouse on Wyoming Avenue in Kalorama. Not unusually for a small country, the ambassador himself was intimately involved in the search. Working with a local real estate agent, he found a more suitable property just off Embassy Row, a few doors down Whitehaven Street from Bill and Hillary Clinton. The price was about $6.2 million. But by the time Sri Lankan taxpayers got the bill, it was north of $6.5 million. At closing, Wickramasuriya asked for suspiciously large checks to be cut for entities in Washington and Sri Lanka that, as far as anyone knew, had nothing to do with the purchase. Alarm bells went off.

Things unraveled pretty quickly. Repeated blunderous attempts to get the title company to cut a $250,000 check to the Sri Lankan business caught the attention of authorities in both countries, who found it suspicious that the ambassador was using his personal email to direct payments. The ambassador hastily repaid the money. It was too late: Fraud is still fraud even if the loot has been returned. The Sri Lankan government, embarrassed, withdrew him as ambassador, which was welcome news at the State Department. (Losing the Washington gig wasn’t much of a punishment: According to a former senior Sri Lankan diplomat, his presidential cousin then tried to send him as envoy to Canada, something the Canadians refused.)

It all might have ended there, but in 2015, there was an election in Sri Lanka. And, in a surprise upset, the Rajapaksas’ party lost.

With the ex-ambassador’s patron out of power, investigators from both countries circled. Agents from Homeland Security Investigations traveled to Sri Lanka to work with that country’s Financial Crimes Investigation Division. Based on information shared by the Americans, he was arrested in Colombo, the capital, where he faced Sri Lankan corruption charges. But with the charges still pending, he managed to use his green card to return to the United States, ostensibly for medical treatment following a heart attack. He never went back home. The case was stranded.

Or was it? American prosecutors still believed they had the goods on wire fraud and money laundering charges. In 2017, according to diplomatic notes shared as part of the legal proceedings, the U.S. government asked Sri Lanka to waive the ex-ambassador’s immunity. The Sri Lankan government, now led by self-styled reformist opponents of his family, quickly agreed. A federal grand jury indicted him the following year. While there has been at least one famous case of a foreign diplomat winding up in U.S. custody after his home country waived diplomatic immunity — a Georgian diplomat who killed a woman in a D.C. drunk-driving accident — this case had one major difference: There was no American victim. The country the diplomat had defrauded was his own.

It’s not clear why U.S. prosecutors were so hot to trot on what was by then an old case involving a comparatively small dollar figure and money that had already been returned. At the State Department, officials typically don’t like this sort of prosecution, which other governments could theoretically deploy against Americans. On the other hand, for prosecutors, a highly connected envoy with family ties to a corruption-plagued government could theoretically give up information on fatter targets of more pressing interest to the feds.

At any rate, the diplomatic waiver soon turned into a diplomatic headache. In 2019, after another election in Sri Lanka, the Rajapaksa dynasty returned to power in a landslide. Another brother, Gotabaya, became president. In a series of diplomatic notes to the American embassy, his government asserted that the immunity hadn’t been properly waived and should be reinstated. In court in Washington, the defense team introduced material suggesting, plausibly, that the waiver had been part of a broader pattern by the previous government to punish political rivals.

They got nowhere. The State Department maintained that once you’ve given up diplomatic immunity, you can’t just get it back.

And in federal court, prosecutors rolled out an argument that ought to put fear into would-be diplomatic crooks everywhere: The waiver didn’t matter, they said. Under international conventions, a sitting diplomat can’t be prosecuted, period, whether he’s accused of armed robbery, blackmail or jaywalking. But in the event the diplomat returns to the scene of the crime as a tourist a few years later, it turns out that the locals can nab him retroactively for anything that wasn’t formally part of the job. Graft, prosecutors archly noted, was not on an ambassador’s list of duties: “The Defendant’s official responsibilities regarding the purchase of a new embassy building did not require, and were not furthered in any way by, misstating the purchase price of the building and the fraudulent activity to arrange transfer of the excess amounts for his own benefit.”

Offered a deal, Wickramasuriya pleaded guilty to wire fraud on April 1.

As he copped the plea, the ex-ambassador may have been thinking that returning to the U.S. had been a big mistake. After all, his side was in power again back in Sri Lanka. A democracy for its entire independent history — one where governments have regularly lost, and left — the island nation has become increasingly illiberal of late, like a lot of countries. It was a good bet that the ruling party wouldn’t have pushed too hard to punish one of its own once it returned to power.

But in the three months between the plea and the sentencing, mass protests rocked the island nation, a onetime middle-income country that had descended into an economic crisis. Streets filled with furious protesters, some of whom occupied the president’s mansion, sharing viral images of citizens swimming in his pool. Other scenes weren’t so placid: Angry mobs torched the private homes of political insiders and Rajapaksa family relatives.

Meanwhile, at sentencing at the U.S. District Courthouse in Washington on Wednesday morning, there were just eight spectators on hand as Judge Tanya S. Chutkan handed down Wickramasuriya’s punishment: two years of probation and a $5,000 fine, in recognition of his having repaid the money. “Even though this was not millions of dollars, it represents a serious theft from the people, and by a person that they entrusted to represent their interests in the capital of the most powerful country in the world,” Chutkan said. “What you have done is a serious betrayal.”

His voice cracking, the ex-ambassador apologized.With that, he was free to go. The whole thing may wind up being mild compared to what he’d have to face in the chaotic political moment back home.

Michael Schaffer is a senior editor at POLITICO. His Capital City column runs weekly in POLITICO Magazine.



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Features

Coping with Batalanda’s emergence to centre stage

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Bimal Ratnayake tabling the Batalanda report in Parliament recently.

by Jehan Perera

The Batalanda Commission report which goes into details of what happened during the JVP insurrection of 1987-89 has become the centre of public attention. The controversy has long been a point of contention and a reminder of the country’s troubled past and entrenched divisions that still exist. The events that occurred at Batalanda during the violent suppression of the JVP-led insurgency, remain a raw wound, as seen in the sudden resurfacing of the issue. The scars of violence and war still run deep. At a time when the country is grappling with pressing challenges ranging from economic recovery to social stability, there is a need to keep in focus the broader goal of unity for long-term peace and prosperity. But the ghosts of the past need also to be put to rest without continuing to haunt the present and future.

Grisly accounts of what transpired at Batalanda now fill the social media even in the Tamil media, though Tamils were not specifically targeted at that time. There was then a ceasefire between the government and LTTE. The Indo-Lanka Accord had just been signed and the LTTE were fighting the Indian peacekeeping army. The videos that are now circulating on social media would show the Tamil people that they were not the only ones at the receiving end of counter-terrorist measures. The Sinhalese were in danger then, as it was a rebellion of Sinhalese against the state. Sinhalese youth had to be especially careful.

It appears that former president Ranil Wickremesinghe was caught unprepared by the questions from a team from Al Jazeera television. The answers he gave, in which he downplayed the significance of the Batalanda Commission report have been viewed differently, depending on the perspective of the observer. He has also made a statement in which he has rejected the report. The report, which demands introspection, referred to events that had taken place 37 years earlier. But the ghosts of the past have returned. After the issue has come to the fore, there are many relatives and acquaintances of the victims from different backgrounds who are demanding justice and offering to come forward to give evidence of what they had witnessed. They need closure after so many years.

MORE POLARISATION

The public reaction to the airing of the Al Jazeera television programme is a reminder that atrocities that have taken place cannot be easily buried. The government has tabled the Batalanda Commission report in parliament and hold a two-day debate on it. The two days were to be consecutive but now the government has decided to space them out over two months. There is reason to be concerned about what transpires in the debate. The atrocities that took place during the JVP insurrection involved multiple parties. Batalanda was not the only interrogation site or the only torture chamber. There were many others. Former president Ranil Wickremesinghe was not the only prominent protagonist in the events that transpired at that time.

The atrocities of the late 1980s were not confined to one location, nor were they the responsibility of a single individual or group. The JVP engaged in many atrocities and human rights violations. In addition to members of the former government and military who engaged in counter-terrorism operations there were also other groups that engaged both in self-defence and mayhem. These included members of left political parties who were targeted by the JVP and who formed their own para-military groups. Some of the leaders went on to become ministers in succeeding governments and even represented Sri Lanka at international human rights forums. Even members of the present government will not be able to escape the fallout of the debate over the Batalanda Commission report.

If the debate becomes a battleground for assigning blame rather than seeking solutions, it could have far-reaching consequences for Sri Lanka’s social and political stability. Economic recovery, governance reform, and development require stability and cooperation. The present storm caused by the Batalanda Commission report, and the prospects for increased polarisation and hatred do not bode well for the country. Rather than engaging in potentially divisive debates that could lead to further entrenchment of opposing narratives, Sri Lanka would be better served by a structured and impartial approach to truth-seeking and reconciliation.

NATIONAL HEALING

Earlier this month at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva, the government rejected the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights assertion that the external evidence gathering unit would continue to collect evidence on human rights violations in Sri Lanka. This evidence gathering unit has a mandate to collect information on a wide range of human rights violations including intimidation and killings of journalists but with a focus on the human rights violations and war crimes during the course of the LTTE war and especially at its end. The government’s position has been that it is determined to deal with human rights challenges including reconciliation through domestic processes.

Addressing the High-Level Segment of the 58th Regular Session of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) in Geneva in February this year, Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath said: “The contours of a truth and reconciliation framework, will be further discussed with the broadest possible cross section of stakeholders, before operationalisation to ensure a process that has the trust of all Sri Lankans. Our aim is to make the domestic mechanisms credible and sound within the constitutional framework. This will include strengthening the work towards a truth and reconciliation commission empowered to investigate acts of violence caused by racism and religious extremism that give rise to tensions within Sri Lankan society.”

The concept of a truth and reconciliation commission was first broached in 2015 by then prime minister Ranil Wickremesinghe’s government. In 2019 after winning the presidential elections, former president Gotabaya Rajapaksa too saw merit in the idea, but neither of these two leaders had the commitment to ensure that the process was completed. Promoting reconciliation in Sri Lanka among divergent political actors with violent political pasts requires a multi-faceted approach that blends political, social, and psychological strategies.

Given the country’s complex history of armed conflict, ethnic tensions, and political polarisation, the process must be carefully designed to build trust, address grievances, and create a shared vision for the future. A truth and reconciliation process as outlined in Geneva by the government, which has teeth in it for both punishment and amnesty, can give the country the time and space in which to uncover the painful truths and the path to national healing.

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Challenging hierarchy? Student grievance mechanisms at state universities

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Our universities are characterized by hierarchies. They manifest in formal and informal ways, reinforcing power asymmetries based on class, ethnicity and gender, and placing inordinate authority in those with higher status. In medicine, a ‘hidden curriculum’ orients undergraduates to hierarchies from their early days in training, placing professors over lecturers, ‘clinical’ over ‘non-clinical’ teachers, consultants over medical officers, and so on. While hierarchies are needed at universities (and hospitals) to streamline decision-making, dysfunctional hierarchies create unhealthy learning environments and a culture of fear that discourages students from asking questions and voicing concerns. They also legitimize mistreatment, humiliation, bullying, and other abuses of power. A few months ago, when I invited a medical student to participate in a session on ragging and harassment for incoming students, she asked me (quoted with permission), “What’s the point of doing a programme like that if ragging happens in official level by teachers with everyone knowing, Madam?” Her question led me to explore the avenues available at state universities for undergraduates to counter abuses of power by teachers and university administrations.

What can undergrads do?

The University Grants Commission (UGC) and all state universities have established mechanisms for reporting complaints of ragging and sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV). The UGC’s online portal entertains complaints on “all forms of ragging; sexual harassment; sexual or gender based violence; threats and intimidation; bullying; and harassment.” Complaint procedures for ragging and SGBV are described in detail on the websites of each university, as well as the websites of some faculties. Students may also take any complaints directly to the Dean, student counsellors, academic advisors/mentors, and teachers. In addition, many faculties have portals to submit online complaints on ragging and harassment, while others rely on informal mechanisms, like complaint boxes, to protect anonymity. While these systems are used by students to some extent, rarely do they function as checks and balances against abuses of power by teachers and others at the pinnacle of the university hierarchy.

Anyone who works at a state university would know that students (and the university community more broadly) have very little confidence in existing complaint and grievance procedures. While the minority of incidents that get reported may make it to the inquiry stage, the complaints are often withdrawn under threat and intimidation from the authorities or simply brushed under the carpet. More recently, certain universities and faculties have worked towards establishing formal student grievance procedures outside the SGBV/ragging reporting systems.

Newer grievance mechanisms

Sabaragamuwa University appears to be the only university with a university-wide policy for grievance redressal. The protocol described in the standard operating procedure (SOP) requires that students submit their complaint in writing to the Dean or Deputy Senior Student Counsellor of the relevant faculty. On receiving a complaint, a Committee will be set up by the Dean/Deputy Senior Student Counsellor to conduct an inquiry. The Committee will comprise five senior staff members, including “two independent members (one representing another department, and one may represent the Gender Equity and Equality Cell of the Faculty where relevant)…” The SOP further states that “any student can oppose to have his/her mentor and/or any faculty member to be in the five-person team handling his/her issue.” However, this information is available only to the discerning student who is able to navigate the university’s complex website, hit the Centre for Quality Assurance tab, view the list of documents and click ‘best practices’.

Several faculties of medicine appear to have introduced grievance mechanisms. The Grievance Committee of the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo, considers complaints regarding “a decision or action that is perceived to adversely affect the grievant in her or his professional academic capacity.” The procedure requires that students submit the grievance in writing to the Dean. The Committee comprises “persons who are not current employees of the Faculty of Medicine” and the complainant may request the presence of a member of the Medical Students’ Welfare Society. The Faculty of Medicine, Ruhuna, implements a grievance policy that is more expansive in scope, covering concerns related to “organizational changes in the teaching and learning environment, decisions by academic staff members affecting individuals or groups of students, changes in the content or structure of academic programmes, changes in the nature and quality of teaching and assessment, supervision of students undertaking research projects, authorship and intellectual property, [and the] quality of student services and access to university facilities and resources.” While the policy notes that incidents related to harassment, discrimination and bullying, come under the jurisdiction of the university’s SGBV policy, it does not entertain complaints about examinations. The medical faculty of the University of Sri Jayewardenepura (SJP), has an online grievance system that investigates complaints related to “any physical, psychological, academic or any other problem related to the University life”. The system commits to maintaining confidentiality, pledging that “information will not be divulged to members outside the Student Grievances Committee without the student’s permission.”

Gaps in existing systems

The university-wide SGBV/ragging reporting system could be used to address harassment and intimidation of all kinds. Sadly, however, undergraduates appear to be unaware of these possibilities or reluctant to use them. It is unclear as to whether the newer grievance mechanisms at universities and faculties have managed to achieve the desired outcome. Are they used by students and do they lead to constructive changes in the learning environment or do they simply exist to tick the check box of quality assurance? None of the websites report on the number of cases investigated or the kinds of redressal measures taken. If these mechanisms are to be used by students, they must fulfill certain basic requirements.

First and foremost, all students and staff must be made aware of existing grievance mechanisms. Policies and procedures cannot simply be included under a tab buried in the faculty/university website, but need to be placed front and centre. Students should know what steps the institution will take to ensure confidentiality and how those who come forward, including witnesses, will be protected. They should be confident that swift action will be taken when any breaches of confidentiality occur. Inquiries need to be conducted without delay and complainants kept informed of the actions taken. All in all, universities and/or faculties must commit to ensuring integrity and fairness in the grievance process.

Second, the independence of inquiries must be guaranteed. Some universities/faculties have SOPs that require the inclusion of ‘independent’ members in grievance committees—members who are currently non-faculty, academics from other faculties and/or student representatives. Whether the inclusion of non-faculty members would be sufficient to safeguard independence is questionable in fields like medicine where there is a tendency to cover up professional misconduct at all levels. Permitting complainants to have a say in the makeup of the inquiry committee may help to increase confidence in the system. It may be advisable for inquiries to be handled by ombudspersons or others who do not have a stake in the outcome, rather than by academic staff who are part of the university hierarchy.

Third, grievance mechanisms must address the very real possibility of retaliation from university administrations and teachers. The TOR of the Faculty of Medicine, University of Ruhuna, states that the Committee must ensure “students do not suffer any victimization or discrimination as a result of raising complaints or grievances,” but provides no guidance on how this might be accomplished. Any grievance mechanism must address what recourse to action complainants (and witnesses) have in the event of retaliation. At present, there are no regulations in place to ensure that persons alleged of misconduct are not involved in examination procedures. Neither do universities provide any guarantee that complainants’ academic/employment prospects will not be compromised by coming forward. This is especially concerning in medicine where practical assessments of clinical skills and interview-based examinations (viva) are common, and those at higher rank are usually trainers at the postgraduate level.

Going forward

Student grievance mechanisms provide a structured process for students to voice concerns and seek redress when they feel they have been treated unfairly or unjustly by university staff or policies. The mechanisms currently in place at state universities appear to be weak and insufficient. The UGC could call for universities to participate in a consultative process aimed at developing a policy on handling student grievances in ways that promote fairness in academic matters, faculty conduct, and administration at state universities. While such a policy could foster supportive learning environments, build trust between university administrations and students, and protect students from bullying, intimidation and harassment, it must be accompanied by efforts to address and undo dysfunctional hierarchies within our universities.

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

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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Big scene for Suzi… at oktoberfest

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Colombo…Suzi with a fan, from Australia (L) / With bassist Benjy who checked out Suzi’s performance at a five-star venue in Colombo (R)

The months literally keep flying and, before long, we will be celebrating Oktoberfest.

In our scene, Oktoberfest is looked forward to by many and the five-star venues, especially, create the ideal kind of atmosphere for the celebration of this event, held in late September and early October.

Suzi Croner, who was in town last month (February), is already contracted to do the Oktoberfest scene at a popular five-star venue, in the city.

She says she will be performing six consecutive nights, from 23rd to 28th September, along with a band from Germany.

Suzi’s scene in Switzerland

According to Suzi, the organisers have indicated that they are looking forward to welcoming around 1,500 Oktoberfest enthusiasts on all six days the festivities are held.

“I’m really looking forward to doing the needful, especially with a German band, and I know, for sure, it’s going to be awesome.”

In fact, Suzi, of the band Friends’ fame, and now based in Switzerland, indicated that she never expected to come to her land of birth for the second time, this year.

“After my trip to Sri Lanka, in February, I thought I would check things out again next year, but I’m so happy that I don’t have to wait that long to see my fans, music lovers and friends for the second time, in 2025.”

Suzi spent 11 amazing days in Sri Lanka, in February, performing six nights at a five-star venue in Colombo, in addition to doing the ‘Country & Western Nite’ scene, at the Ramada, and an unscheduled performance, as well.

Suzi Croner: Colombo here I come…in September

Her next much-looked-forward to event is ‘Country Night,’ Down Under.

It will be her second appearance at this ‘Country Night’ dance and music lovers, in Melbourne, in particular, are waiting eagerly to give Suzi a rousing welcome.

Suzi’s bubbly personality has made her a hit wherever she performs.

In her hometown of Spreitenbach, in Switzerland, she is a big draw-card at many local events.

Suzi was the frontline vocalist for the group Friends, decades ago, and this outfit, too, had a huge following in the local scene, with a fan club that had over 1,500 members.

The band was based abroad and travelled to Sri Lanka, during the festive season, to keep their fans entertained, and it was, invariably, a full house for all their performances in the scene here.

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