Saving children from priests 

The arrest last week of the Chief Prelate of the Atamasthana, Pallegama Hemarathana, on allegations of sexually abusing an underage girl has once again exposed a deeply troubling reality of a culture of impunity surrounding religious authority. The National Child Protection Authority reportedly failed to act on the case for years, until renewed scrutiny by a local journalist forced the matter back into public attention. While the allegations remain before the courts, the case is significant because it is one of the rare occasions in which law enforcement authorities have been compelled to take meaningful action against a senior member of the clergy.

The girl’s mother has also been remanded on charges of aiding and abetting the alleged abuse, raising painful questions about the extent to which fear, social pressure, and reverence for religious figures can silence even those closest to victims.

This is not an isolated incident. Just over a month ago, allegations surfaced regarding repeated sexual abuse committed by a Catholic priest attached to a leading boys’ school in Kandy. In that instance, the accused priest had already died. During his lifetime, however, no meaningful action appears to have been taken beyond transferring him to another school, a familiar institutional response seen across many countries and religious traditions when abuse allegations emerge.

Sri Lanka has long placed religious clergy,  whether Buddhist monks, Christian priests, or other spiritual leaders. Yet this reverence has also created dangerous conditions in which allegations of abuse are too often dismissed, victims are pressured into silence, and institutions close ranks to protect their own. The result is a system where children, the most vulnerable members of society, are left exposed.

Despite the arrest of Hemarathana and his production before a magistrate, the country’s record of successfully prosecuting religious figures accused of crimes against children remains virtually non-existent. This failure is not merely legal but a cultural failure of the criminal justice system. Victims and their families often fear social stigma, retaliation, ostracism, or the destruction of their reputations. In many cases, families themselves appear reluctant to confront accusations involving clergy because of the immense social influence religious figures wield. The allegations in the Hemarathana case suggest precisely such a dynamic.

A monk’s saffron robe or a priest’s cassock cannot and must not confer immunity from prosecution. When individuals exploit positions of spiritual authority to abuse children, they commit not only criminal offences but profound betrayals of public trust and faith itself.

What makes these recurring allegations even more disturbing is the role many religious institutions have played in resisting comprehensive sexual health education in schools. For years, sections of the clergy have opposed age-appropriate education on sexuality, consent, bodily autonomy, and personal boundaries, often invoking “culture” and “tradition” to justify their objections. Yet it is precisely the absence of such education that leaves children vulnerable to exploitation.

Children who receive proper sexual health education are better equipped to recognise inappropriate behaviour, understand consent, identify improper touching, and seek help when confronted by predatory adults,  including those in positions of religious authority.

The Hemarathana case now presents the criminal justice system with an important opportunity. It is a chance to demonstrate that no individual, regardless of religious standing or social influence, is above the law. Authorities must ensure that allegations are investigated thoroughly, victims are protected and supported, and perpetrators, if found guilty,  are brought to justice.