A senior constitutional lawyer warns that criminalizing an alleged administrative lapse could erode legal certainty, intimidate public officials, and transform the justice system into a political weapon against the civil service.
Attorney-at-Law Shiral Lakthilaka has launched a scathing critique of the remand of former Presidential Secretary Saman Ekanayake, describing it as a textbook example of the weaponization of the rule of law. In a detailed Facebook post that has since sparked widespread debate, Lakthilaka argues that the decision to pursue criminal charges under the Public Property Act over what he characterizes as a mere administrative offense sets a perilous precedent for Sri Lanka’s entire public administration.
Lakthilaka frames the controversy through a series of pointed questions. Is Saman Ekanayake’s imprisonment truly justified? Has he committed an administrative offense with malicious intent? And does this case represent the selective use of criminal law for political ends?
Responding to commentary by journalist Sanath Balasuriya, including references to the book “Saman Ekanayake is a good gentleman! But if only he had followed these instructions…!!”, Lakthilaka says the broader issue has been obscured. While personal reputation cannot substitute for legal defense, he insists that the gravity of criminal prosecution demands caution. Convicting an innocent person, he notes, is a heavier burden than acquitting a hundred guilty individuals.
According to Lakthilaka, portraying an alleged administrative lapse as a crime risks sowing prejudice in society. He argues that even if an administrative error occurred, it does not automatically translate into criminal liability. If the alleged violation falls under the doctrine of ultra vires, the proper legal route would have been a writ application before the Court of Appeal, not a criminal case before a Magistrate’s Court.
The heart of his argument lies in the distinction between administrative misconduct and criminal wrongdoing. Under Sri Lanka’s Establishments Code, a public official who misinterprets a circular or procedure while authorizing expenditure typically faces disciplinary proceedings. The standard remedy includes internal investigation and surcharge, meaning recovery of funds if necessary. It does not ordinarily result in imprisonment.
Yet in this instance, Ekanayake has been charged under the Public Property Act, with the administrative decision effectively reframed as theft or fraud. Lakthilaka calls this a dangerous expansion of criminal law into areas traditionally governed by administrative law. He further suggests that retroactively reclassifying past decisions under a new political context risks violating Article 13 of the Constitution, which protects individuals from arbitrary deprivation of liberty and retrospective criminalization.
He emphasizes that the charge does not allege personal enrichment. There is no claim that Saman Ekanayake pocketed the Rs. 16.6 million in question. Instead, the funds were reportedly spent in connection with a head of state’s official travel, including security and protocol obligations. If that is the case, Lakthilaka contends, the matter is administrative rather than criminal.
Lakthilaka invokes the principle of the presumption of regularity in administrative law. This principle assumes that official acts carried out by public officers are lawful and properly executed unless proven otherwise. As Secretary to the President and Chief Accounting Officer, Ekanayake’s constitutional function under Article 52 was to assist the President in performing assigned duties. The entire public administration operates under the authority of the Cabinet, with the President as its head.
In that framework, Lakthilaka argues, a secretary acts as an agent of the executive. When the head of state classifies a foreign visit as official, a civil servant’s ability to question or veto that decision is inherently limited. The secretary’s role is procedural, to release funds in accordance with executive decisions. Punishing only the officer who implemented such a decision, he warns, creates a chilling effect across the public service.
The controversy partly centers on whether the visit in question was official or private, particularly because it included a graduation ceremony. Lakthilaka argues that high level diplomatic visits often combine personal and official engagements. If diplomatic meetings, foreign policy discussions, or state responsibilities were part of the itinerary, then the Presidential Secretariat was duty bound to facilitate them.
He raises concerns about legal certainty, a core principle in jurisprudence. If the meaning of official travel is reinterpreted after a change of government and used to target professional public officials, it undermines confidence in governance. Civil servants may begin to fear that lawful decisions taken in good faith could later be criminalized under shifting political standards.
Lakthilaka insists that for liability under the Public Property Act, fraudulent intention or personal gain must be established. Absent proof of malicious intent, he argues, criminal prosecution is unjustified. The current charge, he suggests, reflects a broader pattern of selective enforcement, in which legal institutions such as the police and the Attorney General’s Department are perceived as instruments of political retaliation.
He cautions that transforming administrative lapses into criminal offenses threatens the structural integrity of public administration. If every procedural misjudgment can be reclassified as theft or fraud, public officials may become paralyzed, unwilling to make decisions for fear of future prosecution. Such an environment erodes efficiency, accountability, and democratic governance.
Lakthilaka concludes that unless it is conclusively proven that Saman Ekanayake acted with deliberate malice or sought personal advantage, the prosecution lacks a solid legal foundation. In his view, the case represents not a defense of public property but a politicized legal campaign that risks sacrificing the independence of the civil service.
He calls on those committed to constitutional governance and the rule of law to scrutinize the prosecution carefully. The boundary between administrative accountability and criminal liability, he argues, must remain clear. If that boundary collapses, the consequences will extend far beyond one individual and reshape the relationship between politics, law, and public service in Sri Lanka.
