At the recently concluded session of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC), a resolution was passed, without a vote, extending the mandate of the Sri Lanka Accountability Project, an internationally sanctioned mechanism to gather and collate evidence on serious human rights violations committed in the country. The resolution itself was no surprise since it was a continuation of earlier ones. What was surprising, however, was how Sri Lanka’s new Government managed to squander a rare opportunity to change the tone of engagement with the international community.
In previous years, Sri Lanka had insisted on calling for a vote on such resolutions, only to face resounding defeats. The new administration wisely chose not to repeat that mistake. This was a prudent decision, signalling a more pragmatic and less combative approach to international diplomacy. Unfortunately, that brief glimmer of sensibility was swiftly overshadowed by the belligerent and regressive statement made by Sri Lanka’s Permanent Representative (PR) to the UN in Geneva.
In her address to the Council, the PR resurrected the same tired ethno-nationalist rhetoric that had defined previous Governments, rhetoric that has alienated victims, international partners, and the moderate public alike. There was not a single mention of the tens of thousands of Sri Lankans who continue to wait for justice or the families of those extrajudicially killed, the disappeared, and those who suffered torture and unlawful detention across decades of conflict and repression. It was in fact the representative of the United Kingdom who had the grace to mention the death of Dr. Kasipillai Manoharan, father of one of the five students killed in 2006, without receiving justice for his son.
Ragihar Manoharan is one of more than 100,000 Sri Lankans who are victims of extrajudicial killings or enforced disappearances. Of them, at least 60,000 were associated with the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP), the very political movement that now forms the core of the present Government. Yet, the statement before the Council failed even to acknowledge these victims, let alone outline steps toward ensuring justice for them.
The absence of empathy was matched only by the absence of accountability. There was no recognition that it was the chronic failure of Sri Lanka’s judiciary and State institutions to deliver justice that compelled the victims to seek universal jurisdiction in the first place. Instead of reassuring the Council that the new Government would empower domestic mechanisms to function credibly and independently, the PR resorted to the old refrain that international mechanisms would ‘create divisions within the country.’
This argument, repeated ‘ad nauseam’ by successive administrations, remains hollow. How can the pursuit of justice create division? On the contrary, it is impunity and denial that deepen existing fissures in society. Healing requires truth and accountability, not evasion and defensiveness.
President Anura Kumara Disanayake was elected on the promise of systemic change, a significant break from the corrupt, repressive, and ethnocentric politics of the past. His rise to power symbolised a moment of hope for all Sri Lankans who had grown weary of empty promises and entrenched political rot. Yet, if his Government is sincere in its commitment to justice, democracy, and reconciliation, its foreign policy must reflect those values. The tone struck in Geneva suggests that key officials in charge of human rights and international relations have not received the memo.
The Government cannot credibly speak of a ‘new political culture’ while its diplomats echo the same failed talking points that landed the country in international disrepute. If Sri Lanka is to regain its standing and genuinely reclaim ownership of its accountability process, it must begin by cleaning its own house. Officials who remain wedded to the old script, those who see international engagement as a threat rather than an opportunity, are obstacles to reform.
The recent UNHRC session could have been an important turning point to demonstrate a genuine willingness to confront the past. Instead, it became yet another lost opportunity, wasted on defensive bluster and misplaced pride. Until Sri Lanka’s leaders realise that justice for victims is not a concession to the West but a duty to its own people, the country will remain trapped in the cycle of denial and distrust that has defined its post-war history.