He still can aim higher. He still can aim far. He certainly has gone far.

At St Joseph’s College -Saliya Pieris, third from the left

Saliya Pieris, who needs no lengthy, eloquent introduction, comes from a “political family.” His mother’s relatives had been Left stalwarts; one of them had been Cholomondeley Goonewardene, MP for Kalutara from the LSSP. His father, on the other hand, had worked under Esmond Wickremesinghe at Lake House, a repository of Rightwing politics.
“We always had lively debates at home. Doesn’t mean we stuck to one position, but each of us defended whatever we stood for the way we could.”
Here he reflects on his father, Harold Pieris.

“He was principled enough to criticise his own political stances, when he felt it was right to do so. Although he was Editor of the Sunday Observer, he criticised the removal of Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s civic rights. He also opposed the 1982 referendum, which extended the parliament and prevented a General Election. Both he and my mother believed it was unethical.” 
Young Pieris was educated at St Joseph’s College, in Maradana. Father Stanley Abeysekera had been the Rector then.

"For me, the Judiciary is above everything else. Courts don’t make laws. The Legislature does. Courts don’t administer the country. The Executive does. But what we have seen in the past is a Judiciary that let both Legislature and Executive interfere. In such a case, we can’t safeguard our independence.” 

“My school didn’t shape me in a political sense. Father Stanley did. He was quite informed about current affairs and would engage us with his views. That kept us in line with what went on in the world outside.” 
Apparently an avid quizzer at school, he had come second at the Dulux “Do You Know Quiz” in 1984. He also had been Head Prefect, which had brought him into contact with another Josephian, Ranasinghe Premadasa.
“I spoke on an occasion at school where he was the Chief Guest. He sent a message saying that he wanted to see me. I neglected to make an appointment. When my father met him a year later, he asked why I didn’t reply. He then told me to come see him in Parliament.” 
Meeting Premadasa had been a turning point because by then Pieris had become interested in law. Probably moved by how he had spoken that day, Premadasa told him to read Hansard reports before 1956, though he didn’t explain why.
Things moved fast thereafter. Pieris completed his Advanced Levels in 1987, having opted for science.
“Initially, I didn’t want a career in law,” he admits. “I wanted to pursue medicine. Since my results weren’t good enough, however, I had no alternative.” 

He entered Law College that same year, completing the qualification in 1992. Having joined the Attorney General’s Department a year later, he eventually became a State Counsel. He also managed to complete the LL.B. at the Open University in 1998, with a Masters Degree from the University of London seven years later. After working as a Counsel for four years, specialising in Criminal Law, Pieris finally opened up his own practice in Colombo.
“From that point on, I began handling Fundamental Rights cases more frequently.” 
Everyone’s a red at 20, or so they say. I ask Pieris whether he too turned red.
“Not really. We saw a rift in the Left in our time. The New Left, the JVP, took to violence to achieve their ends. The Old Left was in dire straits. We realised that both had self-imposed limitations and became disenchanted. Marxism didn’t shape us. Progressivism did.” 
At Law College, he had been a member of the “Pragathi Pila”, a student body which stood for progressive values. “We were a mishmash of Left and Right, tilting to neither extreme. From that vantage point, we began pushing for certain urgent reforms.”

"Removing Article Nine would be impractical. We must base our ideals on realities. You can argue that ours is a multicultural society. On the other hand, demographics must be taken into account as well. Besides, don’t forget that the Constitution in other provisions accords equal respect for all religions"

Among their key concerns had been language.
“Union meetings were almost always held in English. We proposed that they should be held in Sinhala or Tamil. Not that we wanted to marginalise English, but we were concerned about students who weren’t fluent in it.” In hindsight, though, Pieris says things have changed since then. “Maybe we shouldn’t have shrugged off English. We could have engaged our students with it. Still, given how diverse Law College was linguistical, we felt that prioritising the vernacular was best.”
What followed was a colourful, certainly illustrious career. Pieris became Counsel for Sarath Fonseka and Shirani Bandaranayake. When the 18th Amendment was being tabled, he did not mince words when criticising it. 
Here he tells me, claiming he never aligned himself with a specific political ideology, that his notions of justice, equality, and fair play reflected the times he lived in.
“In a way, I think my career has been dependent, though not completely, on my beliefs, which do change from time to time.”

I ask him what belief he values the most. “For me, the Judiciary is above everything else. Courts don’t make laws. The Legislature does. Courts don’t administer the country. The Executive does. But what we have seen in the past is a Judiciary that let both Legislature and Executive interfere. In such a case, we can’t safeguard our independence.” 
He adds that this affects even Fundamental Rights (FR) cases.
“The Attorney General’s Department looks into FR cases, except those involving torture. Both victims and alleged perpetrators of torture seek private counsel, which is where we come in. When courts are free and independent, they take up cases implicating State authorities, including the police, without any fear. When they are not, we see a slump.

“From 1991 to 1999, FR cases peaked. This was especially because G. P. S. de Silva, the then Chief Justice, ensured that the Courts remained independent. Even though the Premadasa regime is considered as a violent period, I would say the Judiciary was protected well. Later, however, after judges like Mark Fernando and Ranjith Dheeraratne retired, FR cases began to slump. The Courts’ attitude to them changed, often for the worse.”
Winding down a different path, I put to him that we saw a transition from Nationalism to Chauvinism between 1956 and 1977 and that the laws enacted during this time reflected it. He says that while the 1956 election represented a rupture, subsequent political shifts came to acknowledge a multicultural society.
“The 1972 Constitution may have alienated certain sections of the minorities, but its successor attempted to remedy this.”
I ask him why he thought 1956 was needed.

"Not really. We saw a rift in the Left in our time. The New Left, the JVP, took to violence to achieve their ends. The Old Left was in dire straits. We realised that both had self-imposed limitations and became disenchanted. Marxism didn’t shape us. Progressivism did."

“It was inevitable. Even the Schools Takeover Act couldn’t be avoided. The reason is that we had Catholic schools outside Colombo where Catholics were in the minority. It clearly showed that the Church couldn’t handle everything, which is where the State had to intervene. So, in a way, what happened in 1956 was more or less inevitable. Same goes for 1972 when we became a Republic.” 
Pieris emphasises that governments, like schools, are never entirely free from religious influence. I contend that this would hardly go down with those who want to separate religion from the State.
He argues that the two are kept separate mainly to keep one from unduly intruding into another. I ask him whether this means keeping the clergy out of the government.
“Not at all. Only if the clergy itself restricts its members can we keep them out? So long as they don’t, there’s no problem in allowing, say, monks to enter Parliament. It is their democratic right. The law must not stand in their way.”

His stance provokes me. I tell him that if we are to subscribe to a multicultural society, we might as well do away with Article Nine of the Constitution, i.e. the State’s obligation to Buddhism. He disagrees, to my surprise.
“Removing Article Nine would be impractical. We must base our ideals on realities. You can argue that ours is a multicultural society. On the other hand, demographics must be taken into account as well. Besides, don’t forget that the Constitution in other provisions accords equal respect for all religions.”
Looking at Saliya Pieris’s career now, I am reminded of Martin Lee, that brilliant lawyer who spearheaded Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement in the 1990s. I see the same monkish calm, which breaks into a gentle smile, an open laugh, once in a while. I see the same high, unblemished commitment to certain ideals, which he hasn’t let go, not even by a notch. He still can aim higher. He still can aim far. He certainly has gone far.