The Nidahase Kanthavo organisation recently exposed a glaring institutional scandal hiding in plain sight. They revealed that women occupy just one of the 29 seats across our top two courts. With a combined female representation of just 3.4 per cent in the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal, the country’s apex judiciary presents a patriarchal monolith. In the Supreme Court, a single female judge sits amongst thirteen serving members. In the Court of Appeal, the tally is even more shocking: zero female judges out of sixteen.

This is not a matter of a lack of qualified candidates; it is an indictment of successive Governments and appointing authorities who have consistently treated gender equity as an afterthought. Sri Lanka prides itself on a legal tradition enriched by distinguished female jurists, legal scholars, and practitioners. Yet, when it comes to the highest halls of justice, an invisible but impenetrable barrier remains firmly in place.

The numbers present a classic example of a leaky pipeline. At the entry levels of the legal system, women participate in substantial numbers. In District and Magistrate’s Courts, female judges accounted for 34.8 per cent of the bench as of 2021. By the time one looks at the High Courts, that figure drops to 21.2 per cent, before plummeting to near-extinction at the appellate level. Outside the bench, the picture is equally grim; the Bar Association of Sri Lanka has never elected a female president in its entire history. The message sent to female legal professionals is unmistakable: your contributions are welcome at the entry level, but the top ranks remain reserved for men.

This institutional inertia directly conflicts with Article 12 of the Constitution, which guarantees equality before the law and freedom from discrimination based on sex. As Nidahase Kanthavo Convenor Suwanthi Weerasekara rightly argued, the systemic failure to elevate qualified female jurists to existing vacancies creates an unconstitutional disparity.

What makes this paralysis particularly damning is the political context. Successive Governments have demonstrated an ability to move swiftly when executive interest demands it. Constitutional amendments to grant service extensions to favoured senior officials are engineered with remarkable speed and legislative enthusiasm. Yet, the routine, zero-cost task of filling judicial vacancies in line with basic non-discriminatory standards is met with apathy. Leaving key seats vacant while overlooking highly capable female legal minds is a deliberate policy choice, not an administrative oversight.

Sri Lanka can no longer afford to treat this issue as an isolated domestic flaw. A look across South Asia reveals how neighbouring Nations have begun dismantling similar systemic barriers through conscious policy and constitutional intent. Nepal, for instance, embedded principles of proportional representation into its 2015 Constitution, paving the way for Justice Sushila Karki to serve as Chief Justice. In Pakistan, the historic elevations of Justice Ayesha Malik and Justice Musarrat Hilali to the Supreme Court proved that institutional resistance can be overcome when appointing bodies actively prioritise merit over traditional patronage networks. India, too, has established state-level reservation mechanisms in lower judicial tiers that sustain a pipeline of senior female judges for higher elevated posts.

For a Nation that historically pioneered female political leadership in the region, as well as the world, the lag in similar progress in the judiciary is an embarrassment. Diversity on the bench is not a cosmetic exercise in political correctness; it is a fundamental requirement for a robust, credible legal system. Judges do not operate in a vacuum. A bench that reflects the demographic reality of the society it serves brings broader perspectives to complex legal questions, enhances public trust in the administration of justice, and dismantles deeply ingrained societal biases.

Correcting this disparity requires concrete, policy-driven reform. First, appointing authorities, including the Constitutional Council and the Judicial Service Commission, must adopt transparent, merit-based selection criteria that explicitly incorporate diversity guidelines. Second, existing judicial vacancies must be filled without delay, using non-discriminatory benchmarks that actively review the pool of qualified female candidates in both the judiciary and the official and unofficial Bar. Finally, the broader legal fraternity must address the subtle institutional biases that discourage female advancement within professional bodies like the Bar Association.

Achieving gender parity in the higher judiciary costs nothing in terms of public expenditure, yet yields immeasurable dividends in institutional legitimacy and social justice. The persistent exclusion of women from Sri Lanka’s highest courts is an ongoing constitutional breach. It is time for appointing authorities to stop offering platitudes about equality and start appointing the qualified women who have earned their place on the bench.