New President, Old Tactics?
Sri Lanka’s PTA Arrests and Custodial Death Under Anura Kumara Dissanayake
[UPDATED: 07April 2025]
Sri Lanka’s new administration, led by President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, came to power pledging a break from the past – including promises to reform draconian security laws and uphold human rights. Yet a series of chilling incidents in late 2024 and early 2025 suggest a troubling continuity in abusive state practices. Within a few months, a young Muslim man was detained as a terrorist for posting a Gaza solidarity sticker, a Tamil father was arrested under the PTA for a Facebook post of a fallen rebel leader, and a 26-year-old Sinhalese man died in police custody amid torture allegations. All of this has unfolded under President Dissanayake’s watch, raising urgent questions about whether his government is delivering on its promise of change or merely replaying Sri Lanka’s old playbook of repression.
Arrested for a Gaza Sticker: Mohamad Rusdi’s PTA Detention
Protesters in Colombo are demanding the release of Mohamed Rusdi (also reported as Mohamed Rushdie), the 20-year-old detained under the PTA for a Gaza solidarity sticker.
On March 22, 2025, Rusdi – a young Muslim salesman from Colombo – was arrested after CCTV footage caught him pasting a small sticker in a mall that read “F… Israel,” a brief slogan condemning Israeli military actions in Gaza. Instead of being charged with a minor offense such as vandalism, he was detained under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) – a sweeping anti-terror law – and held on a 90-day detention order by the Terrorism Investigation Division.
Rights activists and community members erupted in protest at what they view as a blatant abuse of the PTA. In late March, demonstrators gathered outside the police station in Slave Island, waving placards and distributing thousands of pro-Palestine stickers to highlight the suppression of free expression. They insist that Rusdi’s sticker was a peaceful expression of solidarity with the Palestinian people, not an act of terrorism, and warn that treating it as such criminalizes dissent. “Where does free speech end and terrorism begin?” asked one editorial, lambasting the overreaction of invoking anti-terror laws over a sticker. A Colombo opposition MP, Mujibur Rahman, questioned whether Sri Lanka’s longstanding policy of supporting Palestine still stands in light of this arrest.
The government, however, has doubled down. Officials defended the arrest on national security grounds, with a police spokesperson alleging that Rusdi was “harbouring extremist views” – implying the sticker was just one symptom of a larger threat. Media reports indicate the sticker contained a crude phrase against Israel and that an anonymous tipster alerted police, who then reviewed surveillance footage and apprehended the young man. Rusdi now faces the prospect of weeks or months behind bars without charge, thanks to the PTA’s provisions for prolonged detention.
International human rights groups have been quick to condemn Rusdi’s detention. Amnesty International and others note that the PTA has a notorious legacy in Sri Lanka – enabling arbitrary arrests, torture, and the silencing of minorities under the guise of security. Using this draconian law against a peaceful protest sticker not only violates free speech, they argue, but also flies in the face of President Dissanayake’s own campaign promise to repeal the PTA. Amnesty has urged the government to drop the baseless terror investigation into Rusdi and release him, stating that expressing solidarity with Gaza should not be conflated with terrorism. The incident has become a rallying cry for activists, who fear that even under a new government, Sri Lanka’s culture of repressing dissent remains intact.
07 APRIL 2025: UPDATE ON THE RUSHDI CASE
Mohamad Rusdi, who had been detained under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) since March 22, 2025, has now been released on bail due to mounting pressure from the international community and advocacy groups.
The authorities have reportedly dropped the PTA charges against Mr. Rusdi. However, he now faces charges under the Penal Code for pasting an anti-Israel sticker at the Colombo City Centre Mall. As part of his bail conditions, Mr. Rusdi is required to report to the nearest police station every 14 days. While this represents progress, the legal battle continues as the Penal Code charges against him remain unresolved. Efforts to support Mr. Rusdi and ensure his rights are protected are ongoing. It remains critical to monitor his case closely and advocate for his right to a fair trial and freedom from harassment and intimidation.
Torture in Custody? The Death of Muthuwadige Sathsara Nimesh
Just days after Rusdi’s arrest, Sri Lanka was shaken by a tragic custodial death that again put the spotlight on abusive policing. Muthuwadige Sathsara Nimesh, a 26-year-old from Meegahakiwula, died on April 2, 2025 while in police custody – amid credible allegations that he was tortured to death at the Welikada Police Station. Nimesh had been arrested on April 1 on suspicion of a minor break-in (police claimed he had trespassed into a house in the Nawala area) and was taken to Welikada station for questioning. According to the official police account, Nimesh appeared to be mentally unstable; officers say he behaved “unruly” in the cell, banging his body against the walls, and had to be transferred to the national mental hospital for his own safety. He died at that hospital the next morning.
Family and rights groups tell a very different story. When Nimesh’s mother rushed to the police station on April 2 to check on him, she was alarmed to find her son’s clothes had been stripped off and his trousers dumped in a trash can. Officers informed her that Nimesh had “attempted suicide,” but to his family this explanation rang hollow. The Committee for Protecting the Rights of Prisoners (CPRP), a prisoners’ rights NGO, has accused the police of torturing Nimesh in custody – violence they believe directly led to his death. In a letter to the Inspector General of Police, CPRP cited eyewitness accounts and pointed out that previous detainees have died at Welikada Police Station under similar circumstances, suggesting a pattern of brutality at that station. “Steps must be taken to stop these illegal acts by the police. Failure to do so will inevitably result in the collapse of the rule of law,” the CPRP warned, demanding that those responsible be held to account.
The outcry forced the authorities to respond. Police headquarters issued a statement insisting that Nimesh’s injuries were self-inflicted and that officers had done their best to care for a mentally ill suspect. A senior official said an Assistant Superintendent of Police has been assigned to investigate the death, and by April 3 the Crime Division had recorded statements from a dozen other detainees who were in the cell that night, as well as from outside witnesses. An autopsy was performed by the Colombo Judicial Medical Officer but notably returned an open verdict – meaning it did not conclusively determine the cause of death. This leaves room for doubt, and Nimesh’s family and advocates fear a cover-up.
Meanwhile, public trust continues to erode. The image of a young man entering a police station alive and only to lose his life in their care, has sparked anger among Sri Lankans, who have grown weary of police impunity. Human rights groups and lawyers are calling for an independent, transparent inquiry and for Sri Lanka to finally criminalize torture in practice – not just on paper. “How many more must die in custody?” one activist asked, as the CPRP and others pressed for urgent reforms to prevent the next custodial death. The Nimesh case has thus become another test for the new government: Will it prosecute any officers found responsible and send a message that torture will not be tolerated? Or will this, too, be swept under the rug, reinforcing a deadly status quo?
A Facebook Post as ‘Terrorism’: Kajendroopan’s PTA Arrest After Maaveerar Naal
Another incident, a few months earlier, underscores the sense that Sri Lanka’s security apparatus continues to operate with a heavy hand. In November 2024, mere weeks into Dissanayake’s presidency, authorities arrested Manoharan Kajendroopan, a 37-year-old Tamil man from Inuvil West, Chunnakam (Jaffna), under the PTA. His alleged crime? Posting a photograph of Velupillai Prabhakaran – the late leader of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) – on Facebook. The post came just after Maaveerar Naal (Great Heroes’ Day) on November 27, the annual commemoration of Tamil fighters who died in the civil war. Sri Lanka’s Terrorism Investigation Division (TID) detained Kajendroopan, making him the first person to be arrested under anti-terror laws in connection with that year’s remembrance events.
For Sri Lanka’s Tamil community, the arrest sent an unmistakable message. Maaveerar Naal is a solemn day of mourning and remembrance for Tamils worldwide, observed even quietly in the North-East despite government scrutiny. Past governments have consistently surveilled and cracked down on any such commemorations – breaking up ceremonies, harassing participants, and treating even symbolic gestures as separatist threats. President Dissanayake’s government appears to be no different. Just as previous regimes did, it treated a Facebook tribute as a potential act of terrorism. Kajendroopan – a young Tamil father of two – now found himself behind bars for what supporters say was simply an expression of Tamil remembrance.
What makes this case especially jarring is that it happened despite President Dissanayake’s own promises to change course. During his campaign and inauguration, Dissanayake vowed to abolish oppressive laws like the PTA and end the repression of minorities. Yet Kajendroopan’s arrest came “despite [the] president’s pledges to repeal the PTA,” as the Tamil Guardian noted, and in fact showcased how the PTA continues to be used as a tool of repressive state policies against Tamils. The PTA’s draconian powers – detention without charge, limited access to lawyers, etc. – remain intact, and are still being deployed to punish acts of remembrance and speech that the state deems undesirable. Human rights activists point out that Sri Lankan authorities have heavily monitored social media in recent years, and this incident confirms fears that even online expression is not safe from the state’s reach. Surveillance and intimidation continue to pervade Tamil civilian life, echoing the tactics of decades past.
Kajendroopan’s arrest drew condemnation from Tamil civil society and international observers alike. To many, it was proof that the new government’s talk of reform rang hollow. By hauling a man to jail under anti-terror laws for a Facebook post, the authorities reinforced what activists have long alleged – that Sri Lanka’s approach to Tamil memorialization and identity is fundamentally criminalizing and repressive. Every year, as Tamils try to honour their war dead, the state’s response has been intimidation and arrests; now, under Dissanayake, that pattern endures.
Promises of Change vs. Continuity of Abuse
Each of these cases – Mohamad Rusdi’s PTA arrest, Sathsara Nimesh’s custodial death, and Manoharan Kajendroopan’s detention – occurred on President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s watch. Together, they paint a sobering picture. Dissanayake was elected on a platform of reform, presenting himself as a break from the Rajapaksa-era repression and pledging to restore democracy and the rule of law. Indeed, in February 2025, he even announced plans to finally repeal the PTA and replace it with new legislation. But critics note that we have heard such promises before – and thus far, no administration has followed through. Within weeks of taking office, Dissanayake’s government reneged on its promise to abolish the PTA, saying it would not repeal it “at this juncture” (while vaguely assuring it wouldn’t be misused). The reality on the ground in the months since has been signs of the very practices he vowed to end – aggressive use of anti-terror laws against dissenters, police brutality and impunity, and heavy-handed crackdowns on minority communities – continuing to be employed. The Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (HRCSL) revealed in February that it has received a significant number of complaints against police officers regarding allegations of torture, arbitrary arrest and detention, harassment and inaction with respect to complaints. While the commission acknowledged that efforts are being made to address these issues under the new police administration, the need for a more accountable and rights-based policing framework in Sri Lanka is clear.
Is this the “system change” Sri Lankans were promised? Thus far, the signs are not encouraging. International human rights organizations have expressed mounting concern that despite a change in leadership and tone, the architecture of repression remains firmly in place. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and others are urging President Dissanayake to match his words with action – to drop politically motivated charges, genuinely repeal (not rebrand) the PTA, and rein in the security forces that continue to act as if the old license still applies. They warn that without concrete reforms, Sri Lanka risks backsliding further on human rights, jeopardizing its international credibility and the trust of its own people.
For now, the cases of Rusdi, Nimesh, and Kajendroopan stand as litmus tests for the new government’s commitment to change. Will Mohamad Rusdi be freed and the absurd attempt to label a protest sticker “terrorism” be dropped? Will there be justice for Sathsara Nimesh’s family, and measures to ensure no more suspects die in Sri Lankan police cells? Will Tamils like Kajendroopan be allowed to remember their dead without being treated as criminals? Or, as many fear, will these incidents be swept under the rug, signalling that despite new faces at the top, the authoritarian playbook remains the same?
Six months into President Dissanayake’s term, the gap between rhetoric and reality is widening. The coming weeks will be critical. Sri Lankan civil society and international partners will be watching closely to see if the government rights these wrongs and proves that its promises of a more just, rights-respecting Sri Lanka were not merely empty words. If it fails to do so, then the conclusion will be unavoidable: the more things changed in Sri Lanka, the more they stayed the same – and the hope that 2025 would herald a genuine break from the past will ring sadly hollow.