The June 2025 visit of Volker Türk, United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, to Sri Lanka unfolded during a profound global interregnum, a liminal period marked by the collapse of long-standing international norms and the failure of global institutions to enforce human rights and justice.
As atrocities unfold unchecked across multiple continents, the UN, once a beacon of post-war hope, struggles to assert moral authority. Against this backdrop, Türk’s arrival in Sri Lanka, a country still grappling with the scars of decades-long conflict and systemic injustice, is laden with contradictions and symbolism.
His itinerary, notably including the re-digging of the Chemmani mass graves, recalled a painful past that remains unresolved. Despite previous excavations and documented testimonies, the country’s entrenched culture of impunity persists, denying victims justice and perpetuating social fractures. This cycle of memory without accountability encapsulates the broader paradox Sri Lanka faces, a nation marked by ongoing denial amidst desperate calls for reconciliation.
The UN and the death of moral authority
Türk’s visit casts a sharp light on the structural failures of the United Nations itself. Once envisioned as a moral compass for the world, the UN now often functions as a ceremonial talk house. Vetoes in the Security Council have become shields for mass atrocity. International law is undermined daily, not by non-State actors, but by powerful nations hiding behind diplomatic immunity.
His own speech acknowledged this in part: “Accountability is the missing link in most situations.” But that missing link is not due to a lack of knowledge or frameworks, it’s due to political cowardice and institutional paralysis. And unless structural reform is prioritised, particularly around veto powers, enforcement mechanisms, and inclusive justice processes the UN will remain a house of mirrors, where reflection substitutes for action.
Sri Lanka is not only haunted by its past; it was engulfed in a crisis combining political instability, economic collapse, and severe human rights erosion. The nation’s crushing debt burden limits sovereignty and deepens economic vulnerabilities, resulting in the erosion of basic economic and social rights. Poverty and inequality intensify while critical social protections erode under international financial pressures that prioritise creditor interests over citizen welfare.
The recent reopening of the Chemmani mass graves serves as a stark symbol of these failures, a tangible reminder that justice remains deferred and that the systemic architecture protecting perpetrators remains unchallenged. Without accountability for war crimes, disappearances, and State violence, social cohesion and democratic promise remain fragile illusions.
Sri Lanka’s justice system is crippled by colonial-era laws like the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), which have morphed into tools of repression rather than instruments of justice. Survivors of torture and state violence continue to endure decades-long delays in seeking redress. The failure to repeal repressive laws and to reform discriminatory personal laws,especially those marginalising women and minorities,reflects deeper structural inequities.
These intertwined legal failures sustain a broader system of exclusion and marginalisation, undermining the foundations for genuine reconciliation and equality.
Without comprehensive reforms to dismantle these legal and institutional barriers, transitional justice will remain a hollow promise exploited for political gain.
During Volker Türk’s visit, a crucial panel discussion brought together some of Sri Lanka’s foremost human rights advocates, who offered unvarnished insights into the country’s entrenched systemic failures. Far from diplomatic niceties, their testimonies laid bare the harsh realities underpinning Sri Lanka’s continuing struggle with justice, equality, and accountability.
Life in the North and East
A human rights lawyer and activist from Jaffna Benislos Tushan Anton Vijayakumar, painted a stark picture of life in the Northern and Eastern provinces. According to him, impunity is not a rare aberration but the prevailing condition governing State-society relations in these regions. The persistent militarisation of Tamil-majority areas, widespread land seizures, and the State’s failure to resolve emblematic human rights cases such as the “Trinco 5” or the “ACF” murders are grim reminders that the war may have ended on paper, but its structures of violence remain deeply entrenched. For Benislos, peace without justice is merely a façade, one that obscures the continued denial of basic rights to minority communities.
Meanwhile, a prominent lawyer and co-founder of the Muslim Personal Law Reform Action Group Ermiza Tegal, highlighted the decay afflicting Sri Lanka’s justice system at large. She emphasized the agonisingly slow pace of accountability, citing cases where survivors of State-sponsored torture have waited decades for even minimal redress. Ermiza also exposed the enduring grip of colonial-era legislation, particularly the PTA, which remains a tool of repression rather than justice. Beyond legal reforms, she drew attention to the intersection of gender and law, calling urgently for the modernisation of Muslim personal law and greater empowerment of women in all spheres of society. For her, these are not optional reforms but fundamental necessities to dismantle the layers of discrimination woven into the legal fabric of Sri Lanka.
Adding another dimension, Isuru Mahesh Pandita focused on how structural inequalities exacerbate human rights violations, especially for marginalised groups such as people with disabilities. He argued passionately for institutional reforms that go beyond rhetoric, calling for the reinstatement of the 2015 UN Human Rights Council resolution on Sri Lanka, which promised accountability mechanisms long delayed or diluted.
Isuru’s plea to repeal the PTA aligned with broader calls to end draconian laws that undermine civil liberties and perpetuate systemic oppression.
Taking a broader lens, a climate and political activist Melonie Gunatilaka, contextualised Sri Lanka’s human rights crisis within global economic dynamics. She critically analysed how international financial institutions, particularly the IMF, impose austerity and growth-driven policies that prioritise creditor interests over the welfare of ordinary citizens. According to Melonie, these economic strategies erode vital social protections, deepen inequality, and accelerate environmental degradation, compounding human rights violations at both the local and global levels. Her argument underscored how Sri Lanka’s sovereignty is compromised by debt dependence, linking economic injustice to the failure of human rights protections.
Together, these voices wove a powerful narrative: Sri Lanka’s human rights challenges cannot be reduced to isolated incidents or political disputes. Instead, they are embedded within a complex web of racial discrimination, gender bias, legal stagnation, militarisation, and economic exploitation. This systemic nature demands not just piecemeal reforms, but a fundamental restructuring of how justice, equality, and accountability are conceived and enacted in the country.
The Government and the voice of the people
The National People’s Power Government’s ascent offered hope for breaking cycles of impunity. Yet, political will remains uncertain. Critical questions linger: Will military archives be opened? Will war crimes be prosecuted? Will repressive laws be repealed? Or will political expediency and institutional inertia entrench denial and obstruction? Failure to act decisively threatens to perpetuate a culture of impunity under new leadership, deepening public disillusionment and mistrust.
In this context, the High Commissioner acknowledged the profound significance of the Aragalaya, the mass people’s protest movement that ignited in response to decades of corruption, economic crisis, and governance failures. The Aragalaya symbolised a collective demand for systemic reform, justice, and dignity. Türk recognised the movement as a vital expression of democratic rights and the urgent aspirations of ordinary Sri Lankans.
However, he also highlighted the persistent disconnect between the popular demands voiced on the streets and the limited institutional responsiveness to those demands. The protesters’ calls for ending impunity, securing economic justice, and establishing accountable governance are not isolated grievances but essential components of the broader human rights challenges facing Sri Lanka today.
The State’s failure to meaningfully address these demands risks further alienation and instability, underscoring that sustainable peace and democracy must be rooted in the voices of the people themselves.
Addressing Sri Lanka’s intertwined crises requires bold, systemic reforms:
The UN must reform its governance structures, democratise decision-making, and curtail veto powers to regain moral authority and enforce accountability.
Transitional justice mechanisms must be binding, independent, and supported by robust international and domestic political will.
Sri Lanka must confront its past honestly, with truth commissions, reparations, and memorialisation integral to reconciliation.
Comprehensive legal reforms must dismantle repressive laws and discriminatory personal laws, empowering marginalised communities.
Civil society’s role remains crucial as a persistent force resisting denial and injustice.
From rights to responsibility
Türk’s visit illuminated both the promise and the profound limitations of the international human rights regime today. While affirming universal human rights values, meaningful change depends on institutions capable of enforcing them, institutions currently hamstrung by political interests and systemic inertia.
In this era of global interregnum, where moral authority falters and justice stalls, in multiple places from Gaza to Chemmani stand as painful monuments to unfulfilled promises. Restoring faith in human rights demands more than words; it requires institutional transformation, political courage, and relentless civil society engagement. Until then, the struggle for justice and dignity in Sri Lanka, and across the world, continues but that should not direct to another zone of global silence.
