Editorial

When President Maithripala Sirisena announced triumphantly to journalists this week that he has already signed the death warrants of four prisoners on death row, the reactions were multifaceted.

The most predictable of them came from Western do-gooders who, despite repeatedly neglecting to clear their own backyards, trot out formulaic strictures to the rest of the world at the drop of a hat. In order to bear upon the Sri Lankan President to halt the intended executions, the European Union pointed to the country’s commitments under the GSP+, including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.

Joining the troop of critics were France, Norway, Germany and Canada. And Britain’s statement went so far as to threaten that the re-implementation of the death penalty would make it difficult for that country to cooperate on law enforcement issues “including on counter-terrorism”.

Why should counter-terrorism be dragged into this? Isn’t this a case of apples and oranges. Given how the world and terrorists now work, is Britain not cognizant of the crucial give-and-take of counter-terrorism? Refusing to cooperate with a country that wants to implement the death penalty to deal with the drug menace (however ill-advised that might be) frankly makes no sense. Sri Lanka might well be useful to Britain in its own fight against a terrorism that has no borders. Petulance and self-righteousness must surely have limits–if only for the sake of global security.

That said, the point must once again be made–as it has been repeatedly done in this newspaper–Sri Lanka has to put its own house on its own terms, for its own citizenry. The re-activation of the death penalty after a decades-long moratorium in an apparent knee-jerk reaction from a beleaguered politician bodes very ill indeed.

The question is not of whether or not the death penalty is effective in combating crime. That debate could be kept for another day. One must learn to walk before one runs. The question is of whether or not our system of administering justice works. Not only are there multiple loopholes, there is a marked lack of public confidence in the police, the courts and the entire legal apparatus that is regularly reflected via legacy and social media.

The case of the Kurunegala Teaching Hospital doctor who was accused of forcibly sterilising women, is a case in point. The other charges against him were amassing assets in excess of his income and connections with terrorists. But he was arrested and detained without a shred of evidence first being gathered.

When the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) reported to the Kurunegala Magistrate this week that there was no basis in fact for the allegations against the doctor, the argument of factions that strongly wished to believe he was guilty–and found it politically expedient to do so–was that the CID couldn’t be trusted.

Over the years, this is what Sri Lanka has come to. The police can be manipulated and wholly so. They and legal entities can also manoeuvre evidence in a direction they wish it go, depending on who is pulling the strings. Cases are often initiated at the instigation of someone or the other–often politicians or those wielding local or national power. Even at the lowest strata of society, someone with a “friend” in the police can get an adversary into trouble by simply saying the word. Torture, including torture to extract confessions, is rampant. Judges have gone on record against shoddy evidence, questionable evidence and wrong evidence. They have reversed decisions after re-evaluating the material in front of them.

In no country is the law enforcement and legal system flawless. But what Sri Lanka expected post 2015 did not materialise. The country had a serious dilemma, not only with impunity but with how she administers justice and punishment. It is an oft-repeated joke that “nothing will happen” to the rich, famous, notorious and politically powerful that commit crime. In teashops, this mantra is pronounced almost fatalistically–as if nothing can be done; as if it’s written in stone that many criminals that ought to be in prison or condemned to death will never get their just desserts because they can manipulate the system. Many are the instances of trial judges being fixed.

Take financial and stock market crime that was rampant during the previous Government. This Government slept over it as well. Take any number of finance company bosses that drove people to suicide and destitution. Take the Central Bank bond where indictments have only now been served. And consider the many murders that were committed that smacked of political involvement–very strongly smacked of it.

In this scenario, should the implementation of the death penalty be a priority? Or must there at least be an open, honest discussion first about this cancer that is eating away at our systems? If the death penalty precedes action on systemic flaws, the chances are that these flaws will only be magnified and made worse by the corrupt individuals that benefit from them.

It will now become even more crucial to stay out of the executioner’s way. The price will be higher. And the system will bend to and accommodate these new realities, as it has consistently done in the recent past in the absence of a strong public and political drive to change it towards the better, towards how it supposed to be.

It is difficult to imagine a different outcome because history is witness to the path Sri Lanka’s law enforcement and legal system has trodden so far, often under the weight of political manipulation. The President may genuinely think hanging four criminals, for a start, will at least be a deterrent to the narco dealers, but he is faced with a world trend opposing the death penalty, part of his Government and the Opposition opposed to it, a signed international treaty agreeing to a moratorium on such a sentence. He and the hangman are faced with a dilemma.

Quick-fix solutions like the death penalty will only be a modified deterrent to crime. The beginning of the transformation of the country closer to a state of lawlessness requires politicians to keep their hands off law enforcement and the legal system and back the professionals entrusted with the job.