-By LeN Legal Affairs Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News - 01.Oct.2025, 11.25 PM)
In Sri Lanka, justice is supposed to be blind. But walk outside any court complex in Colombo, Kandy, or Jaffna, and you will see a different reality: lawyers crowding bus stops, approaching strangers, and whispering offers of legal help like touts at a bazaar. Inside, clients are handed no care letters, no receipts, and often no clear explanation of fees. Cash transactions dominate, and accountability is a rarity.
This is not just anecdote; it is systemic. From the Attorney General’s Department to private chambers, practices that would be considered professional misconduct in London or Sydney are routine in Sri Lanka. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL), the body entrusted with upholding the standards of the profession, has remained curiously silent on many of these issues.
Now, with Sri Lankan lawyers increasingly facing international embarrassment — including visa denials in Australia, New Zealand, the UK, the US, and even India — the pressure is mounting. Reform is no longer an option. It is a necessity.
In the UK, a solicitor must provide a client care letter outlining fees, responsibilities, and complaint mechanisms. In Sri Lanka, such practice is virtually unheard of. Clients hand over cash, often in unmarked envelopes, and are lucky if they even receive a scrap of paper in return.
One Colombo-based lawyer admitted in confidence:
“If I give a client a receipt, it’s almost seen as odd. Everyone pays in cash. That’s just how the profession has worked for decades.”
This culture of informality might once have been tolerated, but it now comes with heavy costs. International embassies increasingly treat Sri Lankan lawyers with suspicion, noting their anaemic bank statements when applying for visas. One case is infamous among Colombo’s diplomatic corps: a senior lawyer, asked to explain his lack of transactions, submitted a written letter saying he was “paid in cash by clients.” His application was rejected outright.
Reformers argue that the BASL could fix this overnight. By issuing mandatory professional guidelines requiring payments to be made only by bank transfer or card, Sri Lanka’s legal profession would instantly modernise.
Such a system would:
Protect clients with paper trails and receipts.
Improve lawyers’ credibility with international authorities.
Reduce money laundering risks.
Elevate the prestige of the profession.
Instead, the cash culture persists. And with it, the profession’s reputation continues to sink.
Prestige is not merely about money; it is about trust. When lawyers behave like traders, bartering justice outside a courthouse, the public’s confidence erodes.
One senior BASL member admitted privately:
“We are no longer seen as learned professionals. We are seen as hustlers. If the profession continues like this, we will lose all public respect.”
The irony is that Sri Lanka has a long tradition of eminent jurists, from H. V. Perera to Mark Fernando. Yet their legacy is being tarnished by a new culture of informality and opportunism.
One radical proposal now being discussed is a “name and shame” system where clients can publicly rate lawyers, praising those who uphold high standards and exposing those who exploit.
The BASL has so far resisted such measures, claiming they could be abused for vendettas. But critics argue transparency is essential. As one legal activist noted:
“If restaurants, hotels, and even tuk-tuk drivers can be reviewed, why not lawyers? Justice is more important than food.”
At the heart of reform must be a new code of ethics. Several urgent measures stand out:
Asset Declarations – Every practising lawyer, especially President’s Counsel (PCs), should declare assets to prevent hidden corruption.
Conflict of Interest Rules – Lawyers must withdraw from cases where they have personal, familial, or political ties. In Sri Lanka, such conflicts are ignored with impunity.
Ban on Soliciting Clients – Approaching potential clients outside courthouses should be treated as professional misconduct.
Racism and Sectarianism – Lawyers who use their public platform to inflame ethnic or religious tensions should face disciplinary proceedings.
This last point is especially crucial. From Parliament to press conferences, Sri Lankan lawyers-turned-politicians have stoked racial divisions — targeting Muslims after the Easter Sunday attacks or demonising minorities to score votes. Such conduct would be unthinkable in most democracies, where bar associations enforce strict codes of political neutrality.
Sri Lanka’s legal profession has always been entwined with politics. But in recent years, that overlap has turned toxic.
A growing number of lawyers see politics not as a calling but as a business opportunity. They defend criminal clients not only in court but also in Parliament, trading legal favour for political loyalty.
In some cases, this has led to outright abuse. One Colombo barrister recounted:
“I know colleagues who take on cases of drug traffickers, then boast that they have protection from political patrons. These lawyers should be disbarred, not celebrated.”
Perhaps the most glaring distortion in Sri Lanka’s legal system is the President’s Counsel (PC) title. Modeled on Britain’s Queen’s Counsel (QC), it was meant to honour eminent lawyers. In practice, it has become a political reward system.
Appointments are often made not on merit, but on connections. Lawyers who never attended university, but entered through Sri Lanka Law College, have been granted PCs and now parade as “showbiz lawyers,” charging exorbitant fees while flaunting their titles.
To many younger lawyers, the PC system is an insult. It entrenches a two-tier profession, dividing lawyers into the politically blessed and the ordinary. The BASL has the power — and some argue, the duty — to lobby for its abolition.
Beyond internal reform, the BASL must also embrace independent oversight. A joint regulatory body, created with the Ministry of Justice, could monitor lawyers’ conduct, investigate complaints, and suspend licences pending inquiry.
Currently, disciplinary processes are opaque and rare. Complaints vanish into bureaucratic black holes. Transparency, critics argue, is the only way to restore public faith.
Another under-examined issue is corporate capture. Many lawyers who represent large companies receive perks — cars, housing, overseas trips — that they never declare. This creates serious conflicts of interest, as these same lawyers often appear in cases involving corporate regulation.
In countries like the UK, solicitors must declare gifts and benefits above strict thresholds. Sri Lanka has no such system. The public, meanwhile, remains in the dark about who is pulling the strings behind legal arguments.
Perhaps the thorniest question concerns the Attorney General’s Department, where many young lawyers begin their careers. Reformers argue that those who work for the state should face a “cooling off” period before entering private practice, to prevent conflicts.
Others go further: suggesting that AG’s lawyers should be barred entirely from later representing private clients in related fields. At the very least, disclosure rules must apply.
It is not as if Sri Lanka has to invent these reforms from scratch. Around the world, bar associations enforce:
Mandatory receipts and invoicing.
Independent complaint mechanisms.
Conflict of interest withdrawals.
Transparent appointment systems for senior counsel.
Asset declarations and disclosure rules.
Sri Lanka’s failure to adopt these measures is not a cultural issue; it is a political choice.
Ultimately, the question is one of integrity. A legal profession that operates in shadows cannot command respect. When lawyers themselves appear evasive, informal, or complicit, the very system of justice is undermined.
Sri Lanka’s citizens, battered by economic crisis and political corruption, deserve better. They deserve lawyers who treat justice as a vocation, not a hustle.
The BASL, as the profession’s guardian, holds the key. Will it continue to protect the status quo, or will it seize the chance to lead reform?
If the BASL is serious about reform, three immediate steps are essential:
Ban Cash Payments – Mandate that all fees be paid via bank transfer or card, with receipts and care letters issued.
Abolish PCs – End the political patronage system that undermines meritocracy.
Create an Independent Regulator – Establish a body to investigate misconduct, enforce transparency, and protect the public.
Other reforms — from asset declarations to conflict-of-interest rules — must follow. But these three alone would signal a revolution in Sri Lankan legal culture.
Sri Lanka’s lawyers like to present themselves as defenders of democracy, champions of justice, and guardians of the rule of law. Yet their own house is in disarray.
The world has noticed. Visa denials, professional snubs, and global scepticism are only the beginning. If the BASL fails to act, Sri Lanka risks becoming a legal backwater, where lawyers are mistrusted at home and discredited abroad.
The time for excuses is over. If justice is to mean anything in Sri Lanka, it must begin with those who practise it.
-By LeN Legal Affairs Correspondent
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by (2025-10-01 17:56:01)
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