Few would quarrel with the Government’s resolve to break the grip of organised crime. Daylight gang shootings, drug networks that reach into Police stations, and underworld figures running their operations from prison cells have badly shaken public confidence. Sri Lanka ratified the United Nations (UN) Convention against Transnational Organized Crime in 2006 but never passed the law needed to give it effect, so a dedicated statute is long overdue. Yet it is precisely because the need is real that the Prevention of Organised Crimes Bill, gazetted on 6 October, deserves far closer scrutiny than it has so far received.

The irony of its timing is hard to miss. On the very day the bill was released, the Justice Minister presented the Protection of the State from Terrorism Bill (PSTB) to Parliament, the measure meant to bury the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA). Among the PSTB’s genuine improvements is that it abandons the rule allowing a confession made to a senior Police officer to be used against its maker. Under the new terrorism law, a statement counts only if a magistrate records it. The Prevention of Organised Crime Bill, however, revives that very rule. Sections 46 and 47 set aside the Evidence Ordinance’s protections, making a signed statement to an officer of ASP rank or above admissible. They also leave it to the accused to prove it was extracted by threat or inducement. In short, what the Government removes through the front door, it lets in through the back.

The exclusion of Police confessions is one of the oldest safeguards in our criminal law, and for good reason. UN human rights experts have long linked the PTA’s confession rule to the torture of detainees. Article 11 of the Constitution prohibits torture in absolute terms, yet a law that rewards statements signed in Police custody invites precisely that abuse.

The danger is compounded by the detention provisions. The Secretary to the Ministry in charge of the Police may order a suspect held for two months at a time, up to a year, with questioning as its stated purpose. The magistrate must either give effect to that order or remand the suspect, and only the High Court may grant bail. Unlike the PSTB, the bill provides no review committee and detention at a Police station is expressly permitted. A year in a Police cell, followed by a confession admissible in court, is a combination this country knows only too well.

Nor is the bill’s reach confined to crime bosses. A ‘serious crime’ is any offence carrying four years or more, plus 53 scheduled offences that count regardless of penalty, among them obstructing a public servant and mining without a licence. Three people acting together for any ‘advantage’ may form a group, with no hierarchy required. Membership may be inferred from dress, tattoos, or mere association. On such wording, three organisers of a land protest could share the dock with drug lords.

Then there is the press. Section 14(3) makes it an offence, punishable by two years, to publish any matter relating to court proceedings under the bill without the court’s prior permission. Section 56 punishes ‘tipping off’ with up to 10 years, exempting lawyers and Police officers but not journalists. Meanwhile, Section 65 compels disclosure of information about suspected crimes notwithstanding any obligation of secrecy, offering no shield for a reporter’s sources.

Is this unconstitutional? In fairness, the freedom of speech and publication under Article 14(1)(a) is not absolute. Article 15 allows restrictions in the interests of national security and public order, and in relation to contempt of court. But such restrictions must be reasonable and proportionate to their purpose. A blanket requirement of prior permission to report open court proceedings is a form of prior restraint that goes well beyond protecting a fair trial. It also sits uneasily with the public’s right to information, which our courts have long read into Article 14(1)(a). There is a strong case that these clauses cannot survive constitutional scrutiny.

That is the crux of the matter. Our Constitution does not permit judicial review of a law once it is enacted. The only chance to test the bill is the brief window after it is placed on the Order Paper. Civil society, the bar, and the media must not let that moment pass.

In June, the President assured Parliament that the organised crime law would contain precise definitions tailored to criminal activity. The National People’s Power (NPP) manifesto, for its part, pledged to abolish all oppressive laws. The 2003 Prevention of Organised Crime Bill was shelved because it reached too far. The Government would do well to heed that lesson, open the bill to genuine consultation, and strip out the clauses that resurrect the worst of the PTA. After all, a two-thirds majority is a mandate to govern, not a licence to undo hard-won liberties.