Accountability for crimes by intelligence services

The recent decision by the Court of Appeal to order a fresh trial in the assassination of former Tamil National Alliance Parliamentarian Nadarajah Raviraj is more than a procedural correction but a rare and necessary addressing of the serious lack of accountability in the criminal justice system to deliver justice to emblematic cases in which the State is the main accused.  By overturning the earlier acquittal, including that of three Navy intelligence officers, the court has signaled that the era of impunity cannot be allowed to stand unchallenged.

The court’s reasoning is as significant as its conclusion. It found that the High Court judge had failed to properly guide the jury, particularly regarding the testimony of an accomplice witness who had been granted a conditional pardon. This testimony was central to the prosecution, and its mishandling raises serious questions about how justice has been administered in cases involving powerful state actors. When the judicial process falters in such cases, whether through error or external pressure, the result is not merely a miscarriage of justice in an individual case but in the erosion of public trust in the rule of law.

Raviraj’s killing in November 2006, in the heart of Colombo and alongside his police bodyguard, drew local international condemnation. Yet it was not an isolated incident. It forms part of a disturbing pattern in which military intelligence units have been repeatedly implicated in grave crimes, particularly during and after the Rajapaksa era. The assassination of journalist Lasantha Wickrematunge, the enforced disappearance of Prageeth Eknaligoda, the abduction and assault of Keith Noyahr and the abduction and killing of at least 11 Tamil youth by a Navy intelligence unit are among the most prominent cases that continue to wait justice.

What makes these allegations especially alarming is the suggestion that military intelligence units, institutions meant to safeguard national security, were weaponised for political ends. When such units operate with impunity, they become tools for silencing dissent, eliminating opposition, and instilling fear. This is not only a betrayal of democratic principles but also a dangerous distortion of the very purpose of the state’s security apparatus.

The consequences of this culture of impunity extend far beyond the individual victims. When those entrusted with power are allowed to act without accountability, it sets a precedent that the law does not apply equally to all. Over time, this corrodes institutions, normalises abuse, and weakens the foundations of governance. The fact that a former head of the country’s intelligence apparatus is now in custody over alleged links to the heinous Easter Sunday bombings which claimed more than 260 lives only underscores how deeply the rot may run.

It is often argued that extraordinary measures were necessary during the years of conflict, and that intelligence units required broad powers to combat terrorism. While the security challenges Sri Lanka faced were real, they cannot justify carte blanche authority. The absence of meaningful oversight during that period appears to have enabled a mindset in which legality was secondary to expediency. The legacy of that approach is now painfully evident.

There is a need to restore public confidence in the intelligence services. These institutions play a vital role in national security, but their legitimacy depends on their adherence to the law and their service to the country and not to political masters. Clear legal frameworks, independent oversight mechanisms, and a culture of professionalism are essential to ensure that intelligence agencies operate within democratic boundaries.