Commissions that come to nought
The following is an abridged version of Kishali Pinto Jayewardena’s Sunday Times column titled ‘After the sensationalism, what next? Commissions that come to nought’. It was published on January 11, 1998:
The Sunday Times examines controversies that have arisen in regard to the functioning of Commissions of Inquiry appointed under the Special Presidential Commissions of Inquiry Act (SPC Act, 1978), looking particularly at the findings of the Special Presidential Commission of Inquiry appointed to inquire into the assassination of Lalith Athulathmudali.
Out of the rash of commission reports that have inundated the public in recent times, the Athulathmudali assassination commission report could perhaps be classed in a category quite of its own. Stories of treachery and betrayal, truly horrific accounts of underworld doings and grisly details of killings, rapes and murders all jostle each other in the colourful language of a gripping John Le Carre.
One has to forcibly remind oneself of the fact that it relates to actual events, that Lalith Athulathmudali was really murdered, and that this report is an investigation into that murder.
The report, comprising all of 453 pages, was handed over to President Chandrika Kumaratunga in October 1997. Former President Ranasinghe Premadasa was implicated in the assassination, the imposition of civic disabilities was recommended on his ‘political confidant’, former UNP Minister Sirisena Cooray. An assortment of strange characters with stranger names were recommended indictment under the Penal Code for carrying out the act. A number of senior police officers were also put on the mat and the IGP was asked to investigate their conduct in handling the murder investigation.
Reading the actual report in full, the reasoning behind these conclusions would run something like this. In a separate section that is subtitled ‘President Ranasinghe Premadasa’ (coming rather ironically after a heading termed ‘ Miscellaneous Matters’), the Commission consisting of former Supreme Court judge Tissa
Bandaranayake and High Court judge G.W. Edirisuriya discusses the former president’s culpability.
He had the strongest ‘motive’ to eliminate Athulathmudali. He was badly insulted by the Impeachment motion, his place as head of state was publicly ridiculed and a popular movement against him spearheaded by Athulathmudali was developing. A number of senior policemen had been implicated in both the assassination and the following cover-up by blaming it on the LTTE, with the convenient discovery of a dead body said to be a Tiger in Mugalan Road the day after the murder.
Those engaged in the act of the assassination were infamous members of the underworld, as identified by the Commission. Before that, Athulathmudali was hunted, assaulted and humiliated during his election campaign. The killing was elaborately planned, the need for deception being of paramount importance. The Commission questions as to who could enlist the support of so many all over the country if not Premadasa.
“Without his command, no one would have dared to do something that would rebound on him: but this is something he would be capable of and inclined to repel with all the powers of his office and support of his men if he himself had ordered it,' the Commission states.
“...all the facts and circumstances taken together point to his guilt and are inconsistent with his innocence... we make no recommendation as he is deceased,” the Commission concludes after examining President Premadasa’s personal and political ‘motives’ for eliminating Athulathmudali.
This is the totality of the evidence implicating the former President. But analysing the above, could these ‘motives’ be taken as circumstantial ‘evidence’ to infer the fact that Premadasa had himself masterminded the killing or that his ‘confidant’ Sirisena Cooray was involved?
Certainly, in terms of strict legal principles, the answer appears to be in the negative. There are dangers in this kind of thinking. This in effect continues to be the main problem with Commissions of Inquiry appointed under the SPC Act. It becomes obvious that radical revision of this law has to take place. The gap between findings that the commissions come to in terms of the Act and the actual law of the land appears to be wide.
Many things that could not be permitted under the latter are allowed under the former, one example of which is the way in which third party statements are believed without those persons themselves coming to testify. All these were reasons why the UN-based Human Rights Committee informed the Government in 1995 that the SPC Act violated international obligations.