When Buddhist Robes Meet Sri Lankan Law

The chief prelate of the Atamasthana (the eight sacred Buddhist sites in the ancient Sri Lankan city of Anuradhapura), the Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero was arrested recently in connection with allegations of sexually abusing a 15-year-old girl.

The child’s mother was also arrested for aiding and abetting the abuse. The court has imposed a foreign travel ban on the monk. He was later released on strict bail conditions.

The case has drawn intense public attention in Sri Lanka. Atamasthana is one of the most revered Buddhist institutions and its chief prelate occupies a position in a sacred site tied to national memory and Buddhist authority. But public concern is not limited to the allegations or the post Hemarathana Thero holds. The conduct of institutions around the case has also come under scrutiny.

The Anuradhapura Magistrate’s Court ordered the arrests after the National Child Protection Authority informed the court that police had delayed acting on complaints.

Sri Lankan law does not place Buddhist monks above other citizens. A monk accused of a criminal offense is subject to the same criminal law as anyone else. But in practice, police hesitate to take action against senior religious figures, and politicians fear they will be criticized for supposedly acting against Buddhism. This is not formal immunity, but immunity produced by deference.

The case has also placed President Anura Kumara Dissanayake in a difficult position. Speaking at the National Vesak Festival on May 27, he said the government would promptly enact laws to maintain discipline among Buddhist monks. He said the government would amend the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance of 1931 and re-establish a Dharmadhikaranaya, a body with authority to handle disciplinary matters concerning monks.

Dissanayake made the announcement on the eve of Vesak, the most important Buddhist festival, and framed the move as a response to requests from the highest Buddhist prelates. He was not presenting himself as a secular ruler disciplining the Sangha from outside, but claimed to act with the sanction of Buddhist authority.

Sri Lanka does not lack rules governing monks. The Buddhist monastic order has its own disciplinary tradition, rooted in the vinaya (foundational code of conduct for Buddhist monks). The nikayas or monastic fraternities have their own rules and hierarchies. Temple property and office-holding are regulated by law, including the Buddhist temporalities framework. Reformers have also debated the katikavatas (monastic constitutions) as a way of codifying discipline within the Sangha.

This is also a problem of legal pluralism: several legal and moral orders operate at once, and they do not always point in the same direction. And often, they do not always point in the same direction. When a monk is accused of misconduct, one question is whether he has violated the vinaya and/or expectations of his nikaya. Another question is whether he has committed an offense under general law.

A Dharmadhikaranaya may be able to deal with questions of monastic conduct, robes, titles, temple office, financial propriety, or breaches of religious discipline. It cannot replace the police, the attorney general, or the courts when serious criminal allegations arise. If the government presents monastic discipline as the answer to criminal misconduct, reform could become a diversion. But, the state can respect the Sangha’s internal traditions while insisting that criminal law applies equally to all citizens.

This is easier said than done.

Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka have never been only ritual figures. Ancient Sinhalese kings frequently sought the advice of the monks. They also played an important role in resisting the colonial powers in Sri Lanka. That legacy explains why the Sangha commands respect. It also explains why the state finds it difficult to draw boundaries.

In recent times, the relationship between monks and politicians has served both sides. Politicians seek the blessing of senior monks because it helps them speak to Sinhala-Buddhist voters. In return, governments have given the Sangha access, funds, land, official status, and protection. At times, they have also looked away when politically connected monks crossed legal or ethical lines.

This bargain has turned some senior monks into both moral authorities and political actors. Governments consult them on education, devolution, constitutional reform, archaeology and land. Some of this reflects Buddhism’s real place in Sri Lankan society. But it has also created a gap between religious respect and political privilege. Many ordinary Buddhists may revere the robe while still worrying about the politicization, commercialization, and misconduct of sections of the clergy.

In an article published in Anthropology Today, Amitav Ghosh and H. L. Seneviratne pointed out that the monk’s modern public role changed sharply in the 20th century. Educated monks started believing that social service was an important part of their vocation, which came to include advice and intervention in secular affairs, including direct political activity and pressure on elected representatives.

This made the monk not merely a religious guide but also a political actor. Some monks became teachers, activists, trade union leaders, intellectuals, and nationalist campaigners. Once monks entered the public square, politicians had to respond. More often than not, they chose accommodation. Ghosh and Seneviratne argued that one of the famous examples of the power of the monks in influencing politics was the derailment of the 1957 Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam Pact. The message future governments learned was that organized monks could veto major political settlements.

But this clerical authority cannot be understood only as a cynical search for power. Recent research argued that the claim that Sri Lanka has a special Sinhala-Buddhist vocation is attractive not only because it serves majoritarian interests but also offers a story of honor, dignity, and collective purpose. It tells Sinhala Buddhists that they are custodians of a sacred inheritance.

That helps explain why challenges to powerful monks can become more than legal or administrative disputes. They are easily framed as attacks on Buddhism itself.

But that does not mean there is no room for reform. Many Buddhists themselves worry about commercialization, politicization, and misconduct within sections of the clergy. A credible system of internal discipline could help restore public confidence. It could also give the Mahanayake Theras (the chief monks of various monastic chapters) and nikayas clearer authority to act against monks whose conduct damages the institutions.

But reform must not confuse two questions — one is how the Sangha disciplines monks, and the other is how the state enforces criminal law. A monk may answer to the Vinaya as a monk. He must answer to the law as a citizen.

Dissanayake came to power promising a cleaner state. His National People’s Power government has spoken often about equality, accountability, and the need to break old patterns of privilege. The Atamasthana case now tests those claims in an area where Sri Lankan politicians have usually been careful.