The following column is based on the statement issued by the Samabima Political Party.
Former State Intelligence Service (SIS) chief Maj. Gen. Suresh Sallay has been arrested by the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) in connection with the Easter Sunday terror attacks. Although this news has been overshadowed internationally due to the ongoing conflict involving Iran in the Gulf, the undisclosed truths surrounding this case raise serious questions. Currently, Maj. Gen. Sallay’s family has petitioned the Court of Appeal to contest his arrest, and the matter has been formally reported to the court through a B report. Consequently, our party refrains from commenting on the judicial proceedings themselves; we can only await their outcome.
The long-standing strained relationship between the SIS and the CID is central to understanding this situation. Particularly following the formation of the good governance government in 2015, numerous investigations that had been stalled for years were resumed. When the CID reopened inquiries into the murders and disappearances of Lasantha Wickramatunga and Pradeep Eknaligoda, as well as certain assaults, the final threads of these investigations invariably led back to the SIS. To fully comprehend the challenges faced, it is essential to understand the structural differences between these two institutions.
The CID was established to investigate crimes that ordinary police cannot resolve, often involving high-profile or sensitive matters, and it operates fully under the Constitution, criminal law, and other legal frameworks. By contrast, the SIS, or Intelligence Service, functions outside the normal legal structure. The core purpose of any intelligence agency is to protect the state, often beyond conventional laws. This is a reality frequently overlooked in discussions of intelligence work. For instance, Israel’s Mossad has conducted operations targeting top Hamas leaders not only in Palestine but also in Dubai and Qatar. Similarly, India’s RAW intelligence service has pursued objectives even in Canada, creating diplomatic tensions, yet without internal betrayal. Intelligence work inherently requires a realm outside ordinary legal constraints.
During the Fourth Eelam War, Gotabaya Rajapaksa restructured the intelligence services of the three armed forces and the police, consolidating all intelligence operations into a central command. The SIS was made independent, reporting directly to the President through the Secretary of the Ministry of Defence, removing oversight by the commanders of the armed forces or the Inspector General of Police. In this context, Field Marshal Sarath Fonseka’s claims of authority over the SIS are invalid; the agency has never been accountable to him and cannot be controlled by him. When the CID attempted to probe intelligence operations, the SIS presented substantial obstacles. The question arises whether the CID had sufficient expertise to investigate such a complex institution. My view is that they did not; infiltration of a sophisticated intelligence network requires specially trained personnel, and media exposure often hinders such operations rather than helping.
In this context, it is not unusual that Maj. Gen. Sallay has been identified as a facilitator. Within the police, betrayals and institutional complexities often compromise investigations, but the dynamics within the tri-services are different: internal loyalty and protection are paramount, a reality largely misunderstood by Sri Lankan civil society. Actions such as President Maithripala Sirisena’s deportation of Maj. Gen. Sallay to Malaysia, along with the removal of other officers from the SIS, violated these institutional norms and disrupted operational continuity.
Public reactions to revelations of Sallay’s associations with figures such as Zahran Hashim often ignore the operational realities of intelligence work. Such relationships, even with individuals considered adversaries, are inherent to intelligence operations. Even if Sallay had maintained connections with Velupillai Prabhakaran rather than Zahran Hashim, it should not be surprising; the intelligence officer’s mandate requires operating beyond conventional legal and moral frameworks.
During the Eelam War, after the capture of key eastern strongholds—Thoppigala, Wakkare, and Sampur—the government sought to control the Vanni, a region highly conducive to guerrilla warfare. Figures such as Pillayan or Zahran were leveraged to maintain influence. The 2015 restructuring of the SIS disrupted these operational connections, creating critical gaps when heads of institutions changed. When Nilantha Jayawardena was removed, Maj. Gen. Suresh Sallay was appointed, only to be removed later by President Dissanayake under pressure from the Catholic Church. Such transitions inevitably produce gaps in intelligence and assets, which extremist groups or other vested interests can exploit.
Resource constraints further complicate intelligence work in Sri Lanka. Unlike the CIA, which operates with billions of dollars in unmonitored secret funds, local intelligence agencies cannot rely on material or financial incentives to influence targets, often leaving force as the last resort. The LTTE, for example, attracted key figures such as Nizam Muthaliff through inducements rather than direct coercion. A large standing army is impractical for a small state like Sri Lanka, particularly when compared with neighbouring India. Instead, emphasis must be placed on building a highly formal, sophisticated intelligence service capable of monitoring political, economic, and military developments in the region.
The enduring respect for Maj. Gen. Sallay, based on his leadership during critical periods in 2009, reflects public acknowledgment of the need for strong, effective security institutions. His struggles in a society lacking complex institutional structures, which ultimately ended tragically, should not surprise us. The notion that the state should be above all else is outdated, as is the idea that serving the state must take precedence over all considerations; both belong to a bygone era.
