When justice becomes theatre, courts become stages and the CID plays Gestapo. Ranil Wickremesinghe’s arrest reveals how every party in Sri Lanka condemns corruption while swimming in the same swamp.
Former President Ranil Wickremesinghe, arrested and remanded last Friday (22) for alleged misuse of state funds during a London visit while in office, was granted bail yesterday.
Crowds thronged Colombo as the Fort Magistrate’s Court took up his case. In a rare moment of unity, the Opposition rallied behind Wickremesinghe, declaring the arrest a witch-hunt by the NPP-led government. They accused the JVP, which dominates the ruling coalition, of attempting to crush rivals and create a one-party dictatorship under the guise of fighting corruption.
Opposition leaders claim their protests respect the judiciary but target the government and the CID. According to them, the CID is now little more than a political hit squad. Even Wickremesinghe’s sworn enemies have condemned the blatant politicisation of law enforcement. While the anger at selective justice is justified, the street protests timed with active hearings raise questions about pressure on the judiciary itself.
The government has responded by branding Wickremesinghe’s defenders as rogues. Ironically, even Mervyn Silva has re-emerged to champion his rights. Every party has its share of rogues, but in lumping them together, the government has only given a fractured Opposition the rallying point it desperately lacked.
The issue runs deeper than one man’s arrest. For decades, successive governments have turned the CID into a political police force. Today’s regime is no different, determined to turn it into its own Gestapo. The JVP’s history of violence and autocratic instincts make its control of law enforcement especially alarming.
The UNP, now posing as victim, hardly deserves sympathy. Between 1977 and 1994 it worked to dismantle multiparty democracy and entrench one-party rule. That experiment collapsed in bloodshed, with the JVP’s second insurrection drowning the country in violence. Later, the SLFP and UPFA continued the assault on political rivals. Under Mahinda Rajapaksa, parties were split and crossovers engineered to weaken opponents. The Yahapalana government then weaponised the CID, using it against rivals with Wickremesinghe himself pulling the strings.
Since 1978, every Executive President has carried authoritarian instincts, throttling dissent to varying degrees. But unease is sharper today as the JVP’s General Secretary openly echoes Chinese Communist Party governance. After visiting Beijing, Tilvin Silva even admitted it would take the NPP 15 to 20 years to impose its promised “changes.” For critics, this is a blueprint for dismantling pluralism to cement JVP/NPP dominance.
Justice demands the corrupt be held accountable. But in Wickremesinghe’s case, the CID acted with reckless haste, rushing his arrest without proper investigation. It reeks of political expedience rather than due process. Politically motivated arrests are not justice, they are desperation tactics dressed up as law. Every past government that tried them only strengthened the accused and discredited itself.
Sri Lanka’s tragedy lies not in one former President’s fate, but in a system where all parties use justice as a weapon while hiding their own sins. The result is a judiciary cornered, a CID turned into a party arm, and leaders who scream about corruption only to protect their own power.
