Why Do Sri Lankans Still Trust National Security Under a Government That Failed to Stand With a Young Victim?
- Jatinder Singh

- 10 minutes ago
- 2 min read
Jatinder Singh, Jadetimes Contributor
J. Singh is a Jadetimes news reporter covering the USA

The recent case involving senior Buddhist monk Pallegama Hemarathana Thero has become more than a criminal investigation. For many Sri Lankans, it has become a painful symbol of how power, politics, and religious influence continue to dominate justice in the country.
A young girl came forward with allegations of sexual abuse against one of the most powerful Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka. The nation expected a strong response from authorities — one that would place the safety, dignity, and protection of the child above everything else. Instead, what followed created public anger, confusion, and deep distrust.
The monk was hospitalized, granted bail, and handled with extraordinary caution while the alleged victim remained at the center of a traumatic national controversy. Across social media and civil society discussions, many Sri Lankans began asking the same question: if this had happened to an ordinary family without influence, would the system have acted differently?
For a government that came to power promising transparency, equality, and justice, this case has damaged public confidence. Many citizens now feel that political leaders speak about protecting women and children only when it is politically convenient. When allegations involve powerful religious figures with social and political influence, the system appears hesitant, cautious, and protective.
The frustration is not only about one monk. It is about the repeated belief that influential individuals in Sri Lanka can escape the full weight of accountability while ordinary citizens face harsh treatment for far less serious accusations.

Sri Lanka has witnessed multiple controversies involving members of religious institutions over the years, including allegations of abuse, exploitation, corruption, and violence. Yet many cases fade away without meaningful legal closure. This pattern has created a dangerous perception that institutions are often protected more aggressively than victims.
Critics argue that governments fear confronting powerful sections of the Buddhist clergy because monks continue to hold major influence over elections, nationalism, and public opinion. As a result, political leaders often avoid taking firm public positions when controversies involve influential religious authorities.
For many young Sri Lankans, this has become a crisis of moral credibility. A government cannot claim to defend justice while appearing silent during cases involving vulnerable children and powerful suspects. Public trust collapses when victims appear isolated while institutions appear protected.
This is not an attack on Buddhism. Millions of Sri Lankan Buddhists themselves are demanding accountability because protecting religion should never mean protecting alleged abuse. True religious integrity requires transparency, justice, and moral courage.
A society is judged by whom it protects during moments of crisis. When a child accuses one of the country’s most powerful religious figures of abuse, the nation should stand visibly beside the victim first — not appear more concerned about protecting influence, status, and institutional reputation.
The anger surrounding this case reflects a larger national reality: many Sri Lankans no longer fear only corruption. They fear unequal justice.
And once people begin to believe that power matters more than truth, trust in both government and institutions begins to collapse.











































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