By Chamika Madiwake –

Open Letter to the Government of Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka is once again confronting deeply troubling allegations of sexual abuse involving a 15-year-old girl and a senior Buddhist monk with close proximity to political power. Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero, 71, a chief prelate and custodian of eight of Sri Lanka’s most sacred Buddhist sites, was arrested on 9 May over allegations of sexually abusing a minor over several years. Although he has not been charged and was released on bail, the case has shaken public confidence and renewed urgent concerns about accountability and child protection within powerful religious institutions.

This is not an isolated concern. Venerable Pahalagama Somaratana was convicted in the United Kingdom in 2012 on multiple counts of rape and indecent assault against girls under the age of 16. UK court findings established that the offences were systematic and repeated during the 1970s and 1980s in Chiswick and Croydon, including within a temple shrine room, involving a victim as young as nine. The judgment documented grooming, coercion, and sustained abuse reinforced by threats to ensure silence—judicial findings, not allegations.

Despite that conviction, he is reportedly operating an orphanage in the Gampaha District in full public view. Reports indicate the institution is allegedly unregistered and houses boys between the ages of 8 and 16, many from vulnerable family backgrounds. The central question is unavoidable: how can a person with a documented conviction for child sexual abuse be permitted to run an institution entrusted with the care and protection of children? What regulatory failures have allowed this to persist?

The irony is that both President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya have reportedly sent congratulatory messages endorsing an individual who was recognized and elevated to the position of Chief Sangha Nayaka of the UK Judicial Chapter. This individual is a convicted child sex offender who served a prison sentence for child abuse, was legally prohibited from being near children, and was placed on the United Kingdom’s National Sex Offenders Register.

This is not a minor lapse in judgment; it represents a serious moral, institutional, and political failure. It points to a profound failure of due diligence and institutional accountability at the highest level of the state.

The Prime Minister, in particular, cannot readily plead ignorance. Before entering government, she was a contributor to Colombo Telegraph, a platform that has consistently exposed abuse, institutional impunity, and the protection afforded to powerful individuals. The conviction of Pahalagama Somaratana and the concerns surrounding his activities were not hidden facts buried in obscure records; they were matters of public record and public discussion.

If due diligence was undertaken, the public deserves to know how such recognition was granted. If it was not, then even more serious questions arise about the standards applied in conferring legitimacy from the highest offices of the state. Taken together, these cases point to a deeper institutional breakdown—one that extends beyond individual misconduct and reflects systemic weaknesses in oversight, accountability, and child protection within trusted institutions.

At a time when child protection is repeatedly declared a national priority, the public deserves clear answers. The issue is not only individual cases, but the integrity of safeguarding systems and the standards of due diligence expected in public office.

Why has there been no decisive regulatory action? Why is there no transparent inquiry into the operation of the orphanage in question? And what does continued silence reveal about the relationship between religious authority and political power in Sri Lanka?

These concerns are reinforced by other disturbing patterns. In Melbourne, Venerable Naotunne Vijitha, a former temple head, was found guilty in October 2025 on 17 charges, including multiple counts of child sexual penetration and indecent acts committed within temple premises. Despite conviction, he reportedly continues to engage in religious activities within the community, raising further questions about enforcement and accountability beyond Sri Lanka’s borders.

Recent disclosures by the National Child Protection Authority (NCPA), along with data reported by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP), indicate that nearly 300 Buddhist monks have been accused of child abuse over the past three years. In parallel, 4,289 child abuse cases are currently pending before High Courts across Sri Lanka, many involving rape, sexual exploitation, and other serious forms of abuse.

This growing backlog reflects more than procedural delay; it points to a deeper systemic failure in delivering timely justice and ensuring accountability for perpetrators. Taken together, these figures are not indicative of isolated incidents, but rather a recurring structural crisis embedded within institutions that often command deep public reverence and, at times, political protection. In this context, the scale and persistence of abuse cases expose a broader institutional and political failure to effectively safeguard children and uphold the rule of law.

While the NCPA is formally tasked with operational independence, its structure raises legitimate concerns. Its leadership is appointed by the President, placing it within the executive framework rather than as a fully independent constitutional body. Questions have also been raised about full-time institutional focus and capacity.

In practice, the NCPA depends heavily on coordination with police and prosecutorial authorities, as it lacks independent prosecutorial power. Concerns about political influence over appointments and priorities have also been periodically raised. While there is no clear evidence of direct interference in individual cases, the governance structure leaves room for perceived or indirect influence.

More broadly, when religious authority is treated as beyond scrutiny, accountability collapses. Victims are silenced, institutions close ranks, and abuse is allowed to persist behind a shield of respectability.

In this context, silence is not neutral—it has consequences. It enables impunity.

Child protection cannot be subordinated to religious status, political influence, or institutional loyalty. No individual or institution should be beyond scrutiny when the safety of children is at stake.

The issue is therefore not a series of isolated cases, but a question of power: who is protected, who is held accountable, and who is left vulnerable.

A society that fails to confront this reality honestly is not protecting its children—it is protecting its power structures.