Editorial
Attorney General made it very clear: if there is any legal issue, go to court and follow the procedure instead of initiating mob rule when you don’t get the decision you please to hear. Justice is not what you wanted to hear; justice is what the law dictates, what evidence supports, what due process demands, and what the Constitution protects. When a nation allows social media outrage, partisan pressure, and the unregulated fury of “public opinion” to substitute for judicial deliberation, it is not defending democracy—it is dismantling it.
The Attorney General and President’s Counsel Parinda Ranasinghe has reiterated a principle that is as old as civilized governance and as fragile as the trust of a nation: he is not above the law. He has invited any citizen, any lawyer, any organization, any political party, to challenge his decisions in the courts if they believe they are wrong. This is not arrogance. It is the very essence of the rule of law. It is also an answer to the dangerous spectacle we are witnessing: a growing belief that outrage is itself a form of justice, and that the loudest voice should replace the reasoned judgment of the courts.
The moment we begin to accept mob pressure as a substitute for legal remedy, we begin to accept a world where evidence is irrelevant and truth is whatever the crowd decides. We are already seeing how this corrosive mentality spreads: social media users declare verdicts before investigations are complete; commentators pronounce guilt as if they have been in the courtroom; “citizen juries” demand outcomes based on emotion rather than law. This is not participation in democracy. This is the tyranny of the instant, the tyranny of the loud, the tyranny of the unaccountable.
The recent meeting at the Attorney General’s Department—where a group of distinguished lawyers, including former Bar Association President Upal Jayasuriya, President’s Counsel Maithri Gunaratne, and President’s Counsel Nalinda Indatissa, gathered to express support for the Attorney General—was not merely a show of solidarity. It was a reminder of the most fundamental truth: the independence of the Attorney General is not a privilege; it is a safeguard. It protects the rights of the accused, the integrity of the prosecution, and the legitimacy of the entire justice system. Without this independence, the law becomes a tool of power, and the courts become a theater for political revenge.
The Bar Association of Sri Lanka’s special statement underscores the gravity of the situation. It correctly emphasizes that the government and law enforcement agencies must ensure that no undue influence is exerted on the Attorney General. This is not about shielding a single individual from criticism. It is about defending an institution whose very function is to uphold the law against all forces—popular or political—that seek to distort it.
Consider the historical consequences when mob justice replaces legal procedure. When a crowd decides guilt, the accused has no chance to defend themselves. When emotion decides punishment, the possibility of correction through appeal, review, or new evidence disappears. When political expediency decides which cases move forward, the public loses faith in the very concept of fairness. In societies where mobs have ruled, entire legal systems have collapsed, not because laws were weak, but because the public ceased to believe in their impartial application. When justice is perceived as a performance for public satisfaction, the state itself becomes hollow.
A nation that tolerates mob interference in legal matters is not a nation that believes in democracy; it is a nation that fears it. The courts exist precisely to protect minorities, dissenters, and unpopular defendants from the passions of the majority. When the majority’s anger becomes the basis of legal action, the most vulnerable citizens—those without money, without connections, without influence—become the easiest targets. The Attorney General’s independence is not merely a matter of administrative convenience; it is the only bulwark that stands between the state and the chaos of collective vengeance.
There is a deeper danger here than merely the humiliation of one office. When citizens start demanding instant verdicts, they are demanding a system that never admits error, never changes course, never revisits a decision. But the law is not a fixed monument; it is a living process. It is meant to be tested, challenged, corrected. That is why courts exist. That is why appeals exist. That is why due process exists. When we abandon these mechanisms, we abandon the possibility of truth itself.
The Attorney General’s message is simple, but it is also profoundly courageous: challenge me in court if you believe I am wrong. But do not attempt to replace the court with a chorus of outrage. Do not confuse popularity with justice. Do not assume that anger is evidence, or that virality is validity. The rule of law is not served by the noise of the mob; it is served by the calm insistence that every citizen, regardless of status, is entitled to fair process.
If the state allows the mob to dictate justice, the state will not merely be weakened—it will be ruined. The moment law is treated as optional, the moment the Attorney General is pressured into decisions by public rage, the entire justice system collapses into factionalism. Then, no citizen is safe, no verdict is credible, and no government is legitimate. The Attorney General’s independence is not a privilege to be defended; it is a foundation upon which the nation’s future rests.
Justice is not what you wanted to hear. Justice is what the law demands, what the evidence supports, and what the Constitution guarantees. If we cannot accept that, then we do not live in a society governed by law—we live in a society governed by mobs. And that is a society with no future.
