Be that as it may, democracies almost never collapse in one dramatic night. They rarely disappear through tanks on the streets, constitutions burning before television cameras or sudden declarations of dictatorship. More often, democratic erosion arrives quietly, emotionally and gradually – through a public that slowly begins believing that proof matters less than power itself.
And perhaps that is the great modern political toxicity societies everywhere must constantly guard against.
Because once accusation becomes enough, once suspicion begins replacing evidence and once outrage becomes more emotionally satisfying than due process, the rule of law itself slowly enters dangerous territory. Today the target may be someone unpopular. Tomorrow it may be someone innocent. Eventually it becomes everyone.
History is brutally clear on this pattern. Virtually every authoritarian tendency in modern political history first emerged wrapped in the language of morality, patriotism, anti-corruption, national urgency or “the will of the people.” Power rarely introduces itself openly as oppression. It usually arrives claiming efficiency, justice and emotional necessity.
That is precisely why mature democracies insist upon something profoundly frustrating: proof before punishment. Not because criminals deserve comfort, but because citizens deserve protection from arbitrary power. That distinction matters enormously.
In emotionally charged societies – particularly countries emerging from economic collapse, corruption scandals or institutional failure – the temptation to bypass process becomes extraordinarily seductive. Angry populations begin demanding immediate punishment. Politicians sense the mood. Institutions feel pressure. Social media amplifies outrage faster than facts themselves can even be verified. The atmosphere becomes combustible.
The public begins cheering outcomes before investigations conclude. Trials slowly become political theatre. The presumption of innocence becomes socially unfashionable. Institutions designed to protect liberty begin operating under emotional intimidation rather than disciplined independence.
Sri Lanka itself is hardly unfamiliar with this danger. Across different periods of its post-independence history, governments of entirely different ideological colours have at times displayed the same instinct: the belief that public popularity grants moral permission to pressure institutions, politically frame guilt or influence outcomes before judicial determination. Supporters usually applaud it when their side holds power and condemn it once power changes hands. The cycle repeats endlessly.
Perhaps one of history’s most chilling warnings came from German pastor Martin Niemöller following the rise of Nazism. His famous reflection remains terrifying precisely because of its simplicity. First they came for others, he warned, and people remained silent because they themselves were untouched. Eventually they came for him – and there was no one left to speak.
That warning remains timeless because selective justice eventually stops remaining selective.
This does not mean corruption allegations should be ignored. Far from it. Public accountability matters enormously. Investigations matter. Prosecutions matter. Recovery of stolen public assets matters. Citizens are fully entitled to demand accountability from those entrusted with public office and public money.
But justice without process eventually stops being justice. It becomes selective power. And selective power is where democratic decay quietly begins.
Because once power itself becomes the ultimate source of truth, evidence becomes negotiable, institutions become performative and fear slowly replaces citizenship. No leader lasts forever. No government remains permanently popular.
No political movement remains eternally pure. Which is precisely why the real safeguard in any democracy is not the goodness of leaders, but the strength of systems capable of restraining them.
And perhaps that is the deeper warning hidden inside the phrase: “Proof is secondary when power is primary.”
History repeatedly demonstrates something profoundly uncomfortable: the greatest long-term threat to democracy is not merely bad leaders.
It is citizens who stop demanding proof.
