By Achini Ediriweera and Udara Soysa –

Nations do not collapse only through coups or revolutions. Sometimes they decay quietly and progressively, through the gradual erosion of ethics that once restrained power. Sri Lanka’s political journey since 2005 is a story not of dramatic constitutional collapse, but of a slow normalization of lawlessness where the law increasingly became a tool of politics rather than an instrument to maintain a just society.

The years following the end of the civil war in 2009 should have marked a transition toward reconciliation, law reform and institutional rebuilding. Instead, they saw the consolidation of power in ways that weakened the independence of the judiciary, law enforcement, and oversight bodies.

One of the clearest examples was the impeachment of Chief Justice Shirani Bandaranayake in 2013. The process was widely criticised by local and international legal observers as politically driven. The removal of a sitting Chief Justice under controversial circumstances sent a powerful message: judicial independence could be overridden when it conflicted with executive interests.

This episode did not occur in isolation. It was part of a broader political climate in which dissent was often treated as disloyalty and media censorship was enforced.Journalists and activists faced intimidation and, in some cases, violence resulting in death. The disappearance of journalist Prageeth Ekneligoda in 2010 became emblematic of a period when accountability for attacks on media remained elusive. Similarly, the killing of Lasantha Wickrematunge in 2009 cast a long shadow over press freedom, reinforcing the perception that powerful actors could operate with impunity. Media censorship soon became a normalcy.

The culture of selective legality extended to economic governance. Allegations of corruption and misuse of public resources frequently surfaced, yet prosecutions were rare or inconclusive. Major infrastructure projects during this period were often criticised for lack of transparency in procurement processes. While such projects contributed to physical development, they also contributed to public scepticism about financial accountability.

The political transition in 2015 brought renewed hope. The 19th Amendment to the Constitution was introduced to reduce the powers of the executive presidency and strengthen independent commissions. However, institutional reform proved fragile. Investigations into past abuses moved slowly, and political bargaining often weakened their impact. The gap between reformist rhetoric and practical outcomes deepened public cynicism.

This fragility became starkly evident with the 20th Amendment in 2020, which restored sweeping executive powers. The reversal of earlier reforms demonstrated how easily constitutional safeguards could be undone. Independent oversight bodies, designed to act as checks on political authority, found themselves weakened once again.

The economic crisis of 2022 exposed the cumulative consequences of years of governance failures. Shortages of essential goods and financial instability triggered mass public protests known as the ‘Aragalaya’ movement. These protests were not merely about economic hardship. They reflected a deeper and broader frustration with a political system perceived as being profoundly corrupt and insulated from accountability.

The state’s response to these protests raised further concerns about the balance between maintaining order and respecting fundamental rights. Emergency regulations and arrests of demonstrators highlighted the enduring tension between authority and legality.

What emerges from this history is not a simple narrative of individual wrongdoing but a systemic pattern. Successive governments, despite differing ideologies and leadership styles, contributed to an environment where institutions struggled to maintain independence. The law increasingly appeared contingent: robust when serving political objectives, fragile when protecting ordinary citizens.

International indicators mirrored these perceptions. Sri Lanka’s performance in global governance and corruption indices fluctuated, reflecting ongoing concerns about transparency and institutional effectiveness. Yet statistics alone cannot capture the deeper social impact. There was a pervasive sense among citizens that ‘justice’ is uncertain

The long-term danger of such a culture is psychological as much as legal. When people lose confidence in fair enforcement of the law, they begin to disengage from democratic processes. Civic trust erodes. Economic investment hesitates. Social cohesion weakens.

The social impact is deep rooted and complex which extends to the erosion of depth, intellect, wisdom and ethics in society. The presence of ‘good governance’ in a nation is fundamental for the existence of a wise and intellectual society and vice versa.

Social reform with a focus on building the intellectual depth of the average citizen is vital in the reconciliation process. Further, it is also a vital preventative measure of corruption. If 99% of the citizens do not have the: intellectual depth; ability to intellectually assess matters; an understanding of ‘good governance’, their role in it and the ‘political ideology’ of this country that result in corrupt regimes gaining power – our country will continue to face the risk of experiencing further ‘brutally’ corrupt regimes in future, similar to the one defeated. We are a nation following a democratic system of governance and accordingly, the intellectual capacity of the average man is instrumental for growth, fight poverty, instrumental to prevent corruption and further it is aparamount duty of care which falls upon the State to ensure and meet.

The growth of a nation is enabled through the consistent development of policy and law reform. Following 2005, nepotism and sustaining power through ‘any’ means took a notable turn and became significant – regimes distinctly demonstrated the absence of competence to meet those needs. There was an absence of a ‘genuine’ interest for governance by parliamentarians consequently resulting in the neglect of policy development and law reform for close to 2 long decades. This causes a significant and profound damage to any nation – this is neglect of ‘20 years’ of growth and reform in addition to draining the resources of the nation.

Sri Lanka’s future depends on the reconciliation process which should involve treating these damages, repairing the health of the country, and reversing this trajectory.Institutional independence must become more than a constitutional aspiration. Anti-corruption efforts must address the full scope and yield tangible outcomes. Legal processes must be developed, and they must be predictable, transparent, and free from any political influence.

Above all, the country must rediscover its’ identity and further a fundamental principle: that the rule of law is not a political instrument but a collective safeguard. Reconciliation and development strategy must concurrently focus on treating the wounded society whilst implementing measures to develop the depth of the intellect of the public whilst recognising the public’s role as a counterpart to the contract of good governance. Without this restoration, socioeconomic recovery and political stability will remain fragile.

Sri Lanka’s post-2005 experience offers a broader lesson for democracies everywhere. Erosion of culture, ethics, birth of new ideology and lawlessness does not always announce itself loudly. Such force often feed on the vulnerable nature of people. Often, it arrives quietly.