-By LeN Political Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -09.June.2025, 11.45 PM) In a scathing critique of Sri Lanka’s legislative dysfunction, one of the country’s most respected constitutional scholars, President’s Counsel Dr. Jayampathy Wickramaratne, has called for an immediate and comprehensive update to the 1953 Parliamentary Powers and Privileges Act.
In an exclusive interview with Lanka-e-News, the dual doctorate–holding legal academic did not mince his words. “The time has come to modernise and civilise this law. What we are witnessing today is a grotesque distortion of parliamentary privilege, used not to protect democracy but to undermine it,” Wickramaratne warned.
At the heart of this renewed scrutiny lies a growing national outrage at how Sri Lankan parliamentarians—especially political opportunists—have weaponised the privileges granted to them under the 1953 Act. Designed originally to shield lawmakers from political intimidation and ensure legislative freedom, the Act is now increasingly being used as a cloak of impunity—a means for MPs to spread slander, misinformation, and crude populist invective without consequence.
And the most recent caricature of this abuse? None other than a firebrand MP named Archuna, whose erratic, unsubstantiated, and defamatory outbursts under parliamentary privilege have stunned even the most cynical political observers.
At a time when Sri Lanka’s institutions are under global scrutiny—economic crisis, international debt negotiations, allegations of human rights abuses—it might be expected that the country’s elected representatives would elevate the tone. Instead, Sri Lankan Parliament increasingly resembles a theatre of the absurd.
MP Archuna’s latest contribution to this tragicomedy was to issue, from the sanctum of Parliament, a reckless accusation involving alleged corruption in national security procurement—without a shred of supporting evidence. Worse still, he prefaced his claim with the astonishing disclaimer: “I cannot prove it, but I say this with responsibility.”
The most of Lawyers, visibly dismayed, asked pointedly:
“What does it mean to speak with responsibility if one cannot produce proof? If that is the threshold of parliamentary speech, we are not defending democracy—we are desecrating it.”
Such statements, made under the protective umbrella of the Parliamentary Privileges Act, are not subject to defamation laws. As a result, they are picked up by local media—especially the more unscrupulous online tabloids—and disseminated widely without verification. By the following morning, these claims become gospel truth on social media, amplified by talk show pundits and bathroom-mirror newsreaders masquerading as serious journalists.
“It is a political project,” say Lawyers. “This is not just irresponsible speech—it is deliberate, targeted, and malicious character assassination masquerading as democratic dialogue. And it is protected by a law that hasn’t been properly revised since 1953.”
Originally passed in the early post-independence era, the Parliamentary Powers and Privileges Act of 1953 was inspired by British parliamentary practice. At its heart, it granted MPs the right to speak freely in Parliament without legal liability. In its original conception, it was a noble law—a defence against colonial-era repression and a guardrail for fledgling democratic governance.
But over the past 70 years, the Act has morphed into something else entirely. It has not evolved alongside the rise of digital media, the politicisation of the public service, or the decline of parliamentary ethics. In short, it is being weaponised by modern-day demagogues operating in a legislative framework built for gentlemen.
Lawyers note, “This law was never designed to accommodate YouTube celebrities in Parliament. It was written for lawmakers, not gossip columnists who got elected.”
They warn that the modern abuse of parliamentary privilege threatens not just reputations but the very legitimacy of parliamentary democracy in Sri Lanka.
It is not just what is said in Parliament that concern the lawyers and their fellow reformists—but what happens after those words leave the chamber.
In the current media ecosystem, anything said inside Parliament is fair game for mass rebroadcast. Even if the statement is baseless, defamatory, or clearly fabricated, it is immune from challenge once it originates from the hallowed (and increasingly hollow) halls of Diyawanna Oya.
Lawyers explain the chain: “First, an MP makes an outrageous accusation under privilege. Second, partisan media outlets run it as headline news. Third, the morning talk shows echo it, and by evening, it has entered the bloodstream of public discourse.”
“And the target?” they ask. “Anyone who dares to resist the populist wave—journalists, judges, civil servants, businesspeople, academics. No one is safe.”
The consequences are dire: a collapse of public trust in institutions, a rise in political nihilism, and the trivialisation of governance. The public is left wondering what is real, what is theatre, and what is state-sponsored distraction.
The silence from the current Speaker of Parliament and senior officials has only aggravated the situation. According to lawyers, they have failed to grasp the severity of the problem, let alone propose remedial action.
“The Speaker’s job is not to be a passive chairperson. It is to safeguard the dignity of Parliament and to protect the public from the abuse of legislative privilege,” they insist.
But thus far, there has been no indication that disciplinary measures will be taken against MPs like Archuna. No review of parliamentary ethics. No investigation into coordinated disinformation campaigns that originate within Parliament but find their way into mainstream narratives.
To many observers, the lack of leadership from the Speaker’s office has emboldened rogue parliamentarians and consolidated a new culture of performative politics—shouting slogans instead of drafting laws, hurling accusations instead of solving problems.
Lawyers’ solution is direct and uncompromising: reform the 1953 Act—completely.
They propose a modernised version of the Act with the following key reforms:
A Parliamentary Ethics Committee with independent oversight to examine abuses of privilege.
Clear limits on the scope of privilege—particularly in regard to baseless allegations and personal attacks.
Legal pathways for redress, allowing citizens and public officials to contest defamatory statements made under privilege.
Real-time fact-checking support for live parliamentary debates, to be included in official Hansard reports.
Enhanced Speaker powers to censure MPs, including temporary suspension of privilege rights.
“This is not a restriction of free speech,” lawyers are careful to add. “This is about ensuring that freedom is not abused to manufacture lies, incite hatred, or derail public policy. Parliament is not a stage for theatre. It is a chamber of governance.”
The current administration, led by the NPP, has staked its reputation on transparency, reform, and good governance. And yet, it remains to be seen whether it has the political courage to tackle parliamentary privilege, a sacred cow even among reformists.
Some insiders suggest that legal drafts for reforming the Act have already been circulated among top officials—but progress has stalled due to internal disagreements and fears of backlash from MPs across party lines.
“No one wants to be the first to clip Parliament’s wings,” one adviser admitted privately. “Even the good ones are scared they’ll be next.”
One of lawyers ends his interview with a chilling warning:
“A democracy that lets its Parliament descend into a circus cannot expect the people to trust its laws, its courts, or its elections. The abuse of privilege is not just a legal issue. It is a national mental health crisis—we are poisoning our information ecosystem with institutional lies.”
He pauses, before delivering his final verdict:
“Reform is not optional. It is overdue. The question is whether this government will act—or whether it too will be swallowed by the same machinery of distortion.”
The time has come for Sri Lanka to stop treating parliamentary privilege as a shield for cowards and start treating it as a tool for public good. The law that once protected statesmen from tyranny now protects charlatans from accountability.
If Archuna and his ilk have taught us anything, it is that unchecked privilege is a danger to democracy—not a defence of it. The words spoken in Parliament must be elevated, not debased. And until the law is revised, the clowns will continue to run the circus.
The fate of Sri Lanka’s democratic sanity may depend on it.
By LeN Political Correspondent
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by (2025-06-09 22:52:53)
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