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Tale of two reports

14 Feb 2021

It is a well-known fact that whenever a party in power finds itself in a spot of bother, a guaranteed method of survival is to buy time by appointing a commission of inquiry. Ask Ranil Wickremesinghe. The relevant provision for this political manoeuvre has been in the statute books ever since the time of Independence in 1948, under the Commission of Inquiry Act which has been resorted to at regular intervals for a variety of reasons by almost every leader since. Additionally, however, under the 1978 Constitution, the all-powerful Executive President, now further strengthened by the 20th Amendment, has been vested with authority to appoint special commissions of inquiry under presidential warrant to investigate and report to the president on any matter deemed to be of importance. What is noteworthy, however, is that these commissions, unlike those appointed under the Commission of Inquiry Act that do not have the right to exercise judicial power, have the authority to take away the civic rights of any person it finds guilty and more importantly, such action cannot be questioned in any court of law. More often than not, commissions of inquiry of either kind have been used and abused by various leaders to harass and victimise political opponents who they see as a threat to their domain, as well as to cover up acts of commission and omission. It is well known that the special commissions of inquiry provision itself was included in the ‘78 Constitution for the sole purpose of disenfranchising the first Executive President J.R. Jayewardene’s main political foe, Sirimavo Bandaranaike. In fact, the first special presidential commission of inquiry had to, as its mandate, inquire and investigate the conduct of Bandaranaike during her tenure as Prime Minister from 1970 to 1977, and the commission, on completion of its inquiry, proceeded to strip her of civic rights. As a consequence, the motive for setting up this ad hoc, quasi-judicial mechanism remains shrouded in controversy ever since. At the time, President Jayewardene’s political detractors termed the special commission of inquiry mechanism as a de facto “kangaroo court” and its findings were looked upon with scepticism, owing to the nature of its formulation. However, despite this shaky foundation, special presidential commissions of inquiry have become a permanent feature in our political ecosystem, having consolidated its place within the legal framework over the years. Notwithstanding all that, today, four decades after the first commission sat, we hear the same kind of sentiment with regard to the latest special presidential commissions appointed by the current President, especially the one mandated to inquire into alleged political victimisation during the previous regime. Allegations similar to those first heard four decades ago are rife these days to the effect that the commission is being utilised to circumvent the regular court system. The question being asked is, if there is already a pending case before a court of law, why should a special presidential commission short-circuit that process and exonerate an individual? The rationale being that the accused could plead innocence before the court itself and let the law take its course. It is in this light that executive action via a special commission is being seen as interventionist and frowned upon. As far as the optics go, abstinence on the part of the Executive will go a long way in building much-needed trust in the administration as well as the judicial process. After all, justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done. During the course of the past two months, two special presidential commissions of inquiry have completed investigations and submitted their final reports to the President. One is the commission probing political victimisation while the other is the one that probed the Easter Sunday attacks. Although both reports were submitted less than two months of each other, there seems to be a disparity in the manner in which action is being initiated based on the recommendations of the reports. The three-member Presidential Commission of Inquiry (PCoI) probing incidents of political victimisation was appointed on 9 January 2020 and submitted its final report on 8 December 2020. The Commission was mandated to inquire into allegations of political victimisation of state officials, state employees, armed forces, and police personnel during the period between 8 January 2015 and 16 November 16 2019, as a result of investigations by state agencies such as the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption (CIABOC), Financial Crimes Investigation Division (FCID), Criminal Investigation Department (CID), and the Special Investigation Unit of the Police. Following a public call for complaints, 1,971 petitions had been submitted to the Commission for inquiry. On 31 January 2021, the President appointed another special presidential commission to implement the decisions and recommendations of the victimisation commission. The speed at which action has been initiated on the decisions and recommendations of the special commission, even though the full 2,000-plus-page report has not yet been made public, is what has got the grapevine buzzing, with the parliamentary Opposition quick to capitalise on the opportunity. The main bone of contention is that constitutional provisions better suited for more noble purposes are being used to exonerate those who even have personal cases filed against them on the pretext of political victimisation. To add fuel to the fire, the IGP is on record stating that around 75% of cases of alleged victimisation filed by police rank and file have been found to be bogus. The underlying question in all this is, can an ad hoc special presidential commission override the country’s judicial system? If so, does it not render the legal system impotent in the face of executive action? Opposition parties have even gone to the extent of comparing the action recommended by the special commission in exonerating certain individuals from ongoing cases against them on the basis of victimisation in contrast to the ruling in the Ranjan Ramanayake contempt case, citing unequal application of the law. The answers to all these posers will probably materialise via litigation being contemplated by Opposition parties on this matter. Be that as it may, there appears to be a distinct disparity in the manner in which the victimisation report is being implemented as opposed to the report submitted by the Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry that probed the Easter Sunday attacks. By any yardstick, it is this particular report, which not only Sri Lankans but also the international community have been patiently waiting for, given the high number of foreign casualties in the multiple attacks, that warrants precedence. But even two weeks after the report had been submitted, only bits and pieces of it have made its way to the media, prompting His Eminence Malcolm Cardinal Ranjith to publicly vent his frustration. The outspoken Cardinal was among the first to publicly request an unedited copy of the report but is yet to even receive an acknowledgement of his request, which is what understandably made him hint at calling for an international investigation last week. The Cardinal’s not-so-subtle hint could not have come at a more crucial time. Today, with the United Nations Human Rights Council breathing down the neck of the administration, the actions of the Executive and the Government have come under microscopic scrutiny. The reignited controversy surrounding the burial of Covid-19 victims, following the Prime Minister’s verbal assurance in Parliament followed by stoic denial from his own office hours later, is bound to cause further headaches for those heading to Geneva. Given the socioeconomic connotations of the impending parley, much more than meets the eye rides on the final outcome of the Swiss rendezvous that begins next week and stretches over 30 days.


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