Did Criticism Become Contempt? Questions Raised Over President’s Counsel Sanjeeva Jayawardena’s Remarks on Asad Maulana
In the increasingly explosive debate surrounding the , a fresh controversy has now emerged — not over the allegations themselves, but over whether attempts are being made to silence or legally intimidate key witnesses connected to the case.
At the centre of the latest legal and political storm is , whose testimony in the widely discussed documentary reignited international scrutiny into alleged links between elements of Sri Lankan intelligence and the Easter Sunday attacks.
But critics are now asking a more uncomfortable question: did go too far in suggesting that Maulana had insulted the Sri Lankan judiciary merely by repeating allegations and criticisms connected to the investigations?
The issue is becoming politically sensitive because Maulana’s statements were not made in isolation. His account was broadcast internationally, subjected to scrutiny by journalists, researchers, and intelligence observers, and reportedly triggered renewed international attention toward and his alleged connections to figures accused of involvement in the attacks.
Yet instead of directly dismantling Maulana’s factual assertions point by point, critics argue that Jayawardena attempted to redirect attention toward institutional legitimacy — claiming that multiple committees and inquiries had not found evidence implicating Suresh Saleh.
Among the committees cited were those associated with , , , and .
But legal observers are now raising an important constitutional question: were any of those committee findings ever judicially tested in a court of law?
None of those committees, critics point out, delivered criminal convictions through a judicial process. None of their findings resulted in prosecutions establishing legal innocence or guilt before a competent court. Most functioned as commissions, inquiries, or investigative reviews — bodies that may collect evidence and recommend action, but which do not possess the constitutional authority of a criminal court delivering a final verdict after trial.
That distinction matters enormously.
Sri Lanka’s legal history is littered with commissions whose findings gathered dust in archives while politically sensitive cases disappeared into procedural darkness. Therefore, opponents of Jayawardena’s argument say it is legally problematic to suggest that merely questioning those reports amounts to insulting the judiciary itself.
Indeed, the judiciary and investigative commissions are not the same thing.
One is constitutionally empowered to adjudicate criminal liability. The other merely assists, recommends, or investigates.
The concern among civil liberties advocates is that the language used against Maulana risks creating a dangerous precedent where criticism of state investigations becomes conflated with contempt for the courts.
Critics argue that such a tactic could discourage future whistleblowers from coming forward — particularly in cases involving national security, intelligence operations, or politically sensitive violence.
Even more significantly, Maulana’s statements have not existed in a vacuum. International media organisations, foreign analysts, and independent researchers have continued examining aspects of his claims. Whether one agrees with him or not, his allegations became part of an international discourse surrounding accountability, intelligence failures, and political manipulation in Sri Lanka.
That is why some legal analysts believe the real issue is not whether Maulana offended the judiciary, but whether attempts are now being made to delegitimise a witness by portraying criticism as institutional disrespect.
Defenders of Jayawardena, however, would likely argue that he was merely protecting the integrity of institutions and highlighting that multiple domestic inquiries failed to establish evidence against Saleh. In adversarial legal systems, defence counsel are expected to attack credibility, question witnesses, and expose inconsistencies.
But the counterargument remains powerful: challenging a witness is one thing; implying that criticism of non-judicial investigative outcomes amounts to an insult against the judiciary is another entirely.
The distinction is not academic. It goes directly to the heart of democratic accountability.
Because if asking questions about state investigations becomes legally dangerous, then future inquiries into national tragedies may become exercises in institutional self-protection rather than genuine truth-seeking.
And in the long shadow of the Easter Sunday attacks, that may be the most dangerous outcome of all.