Features
1956, SWRD, Sir John, some ministers and drafting a Throne Speech on short order
(Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris)
In view of the dissolution of Parliament, I sat down to draft the Queen’s Speech. I drafted five different speeches, one for each person who might be a potential Prime Minister: Sir John, S.W.R.D., Philip Gunawardena, Dahanayake and N. M. Perera. The elections were spread over three days, and on the last day, April 12, 1956, was S.W.R.D.’s election at Attanagalla.
On the first day’s results, it was clear that there was a swing towards S.W.R.D.’s party, the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna. On the second day’s results, his position had considerably improved and it was clear to any thinking man that, if S.W.R.D. won his own seat on the 12th, he would automatically be Prime Minister.
The shortness of the time given for the drafting of the Queen’s Speech must have struck him as a constitutional lawyer because, on the 12th morning, while polling in his electoral area was going on, he asked me on the telephone to come to his bungalow to draft the Speech.
DS.’s and Dudley’s Secretary was N. W. Atukorale. When Sir John came in, Atukorale was elevated to Queen’s House and P. Nadesan took his place. Nadesan was an efficient officer and was known as Sir John’s man. He was able to write a speech for Sir John for the opening of a Commonwealth Conference or a Volley Ball court. If S.W.R.D. came in, everyone knew that Nadesan had to go; and he went.
Many, including my father, thought that I would have to go likewise although I saw no reason for taking a kick. When S.W.R.D. phoned over the Queen’s Speech, I told him that I did not mean any disrespect, that I wished to act constitutionally as Secretary to the Cabinet, that Sir John was still the Prime Minister, that he was not still member for Attanagalla, that I had no doubt that he would be elected, that I knew the urgency of the matter, that I had a draft ready, and that I would see him early the next morning with Sir John’s permission.
In the afternoon of the 12th, I drove to Kandawala. Sir John, dressed in a sarong and banian, was signing cheques for each of the minor employees of the External Affairs Ministry. When I explained my problem, he readily granted me permission to see SWRD. He then invited me to a drink. As it was only five o,clock, I said I would prefer a glass of iced water, and he said “You b…, you are also refusing my drinks, now that I am down?”
I said it was not that, that I had some drinks at lunch time, and that my throat was a bit parched. He was annoyed but asked the servant boy to bring two glasses of iced water. When I was there, Sir John’s house which is normally full of people was deserted by those who pretended to be his friends and enjoyed his hospitality while he was in power.
And so, the next morning, at 6. 30, I was on SWRD.’s doorstep at Rosmead Place. He had been returned by an enormous majority and was to be our next Prime Minister. I inquired from a servant boy whether the master was up and was told that he was reading a mass of newspapers. I sent my name in and was asked to come upstairs – I went in, in some trepidation, and again told him, that I meant no disrespect and that I was there with Sir John’s permission, and that at Sir John would be handing in his resignation as Prime Minister at noon.
SWRD. then made a short speech at me in a very loud voice. He said he saw no disrespect but complete integrity, that public officers from Government Agents down to village headmen had worked against him (“against me, against me” he shrieked about three times) in the election, and that he admired the correct and upright stand I had taken. He said I was the one public servant, he knew, who had acted correctly during the election. I knew now that I had saved my skin. He asked for my draft and read the three pages which I had written, slowly and carefully. He then took a blue pencil and cancelled all three pages saying “Pedestrian English Peiris, pedestrian English Take this down”, and with his usual intellectual superiority and arrogance, started dictating.
He was naturally elated at his success at the election and his future as the Head of the country. Several times I had to ask him to go slow on his dictation because I knew no shorthand, and he said “Sorry, my dear fellow”. What he dictated to me was not a Queen’s speech but a vitriolic attack on Sir John and the United National Party, an attack which he should properly have made on the floor of the house of Representatives or at a public meeting.
At the end of his dictation, I thought it my duty to point this out, which I did, adding that the Governor-General might refuse to read the Speech. There is the instance of King George V refusing to read a Speech until some objectionable words referring to His Irish subjects had been deleted. He said “take my order”.
While he was dictating to me, the servant boy was coming up every few minutes saying that another gentleman had arrived, and this was before seven o’clock in the morning. SWRD. was unwashed and unshaved and dressed in pyjamas and a dressing gown, not in the shirt and cloth. He was an Oxford man, and an Oxford man cannot easily slough his culture.
About the servant boy’s tenth visit, he lost his temper and shouted at the boy to tell them all to clear out of his house. I reminded him that he was now the Prime Minister and that his remark, if conveyed, would make a very bad beginning. I suggested that he go down as he was, in his dressing gown, see who these gentlemen were, and ask to be excused because he was extremely busy about the formation of a Cabinet and time was short.
He agreed and we both descended the stairs, he with one arm round my shoulder, and I with the draft of the Queen’s Speech under my arm. Before he lost his temper, he had suggested that I wait for bacon and eggs – Oxford again.
I cannot describe my surprise when I came down and saw who the gentlemen were who were calling so early in the morning on the new Prime Minister. They were all gentlemen in high places who used to frequent Kandawala and who had done a quick somersault and a long jump to the winning side. ‘Gosh,’ I thought, ‘aren’t there any decencies in life? What they were there for, I never found out because SWRD ordered me to get back to my office and get on with the job I had in hand.
The senior hands on my staff had dealt with the Queen’s Speech since 1974 and they were surprised when they read the draft in my long-hand before they typed it. They came to me and asked “Is this the Queen’s Speech?” And I said “No. This is Mr Bandaranaike’s speech. I am not going to have this printed”.
When the draft was typed, I took it back to Rosmead Place and asked S.W.R.D. to read in type what he had dictated to me. I told him that the language was far too strong and had to be toned down. He was calmer now; the first flush of victory and elation had receded and he was giving his mind to more urgent and important things like Cabinet-making. He again read the draft carefully, said that he agreed with me and asked me to tone it down.
I asked him whether he wished to see the second draft; time was running short. He said, “Certainly not, my dear fellow. You tone it down; you know my ideas; I can trust your discretion; have your amended draft translated and printed”. As Prime Minister, he was a mellow man. As Minister of Local Government he had been a terror to his colleagues and to the public servants who worked in his Ministry.
His Permanent Secretary, E. W. Kannanagara, told me that he had to be the shock-absorber.
The Speech, toned down by me and read by the Governor-General in S.W.R.D.’s excellent English, contained promises which the Government could not possibly fulfil. A people’s Government had been returned and the people had to be pampered and pleased, whether the Government could afford the luxury or not.
At the Opening of Parliament, the People’s Ministers, including the Prime Minister, were in national dress, wearing blue scarfs to indicate the party. I was surprised to see Ministers M. W. H. de Silva and Stanley de Zoysa in this dress. M. W. H. looked dignified as a judge of the Supreme Court in a full-bottomed wig and gown. Stanley, with his monocle and that meticulous English pronunciation of his which reminded you of a University Don – well, really, you had to look at him twice before you could recognize him. To the Senate and the House of Representatives, Ministers went in the national dress. To the Cabinet, they came in the most nondescript attire.
The first paragraph of S.W.R.D.’s first Queen’s Speech read as follows:
“The free votes of the people democratically cast at the last general election are a clear indication of dissatisfaction with many aspects of policy and administration hitherto pursued. My Government intends, in pursuance of its declared policy, to effect many changes with expedition and efficiency, but in a manner which will neither result in injustice nor cause confusion and dislocation.”
1956,SWRD, Sir. John,
The Speech continued:
“My Government wishes to assure minorities, religious, racial and otherwise, that they need have no fear of injustice or discrimination in the carrying out of its policies and programmes. My Government will ensure to all citizens the rights, privileges and freedoms to which they are entitled in a democratic state.”
Compare this with the following sentence in the Speech:
“It will also take necessary steps for the adoption of Sinhala as the one official language of the State.”
Was the Sinhala only policy not a discrimination against a minority? Was the Assisted Schools takeover not an injustice? Was it a blow at the Roman Catholic community? Are these some of the changes which the Government intended to effect with expedition and efficiency? If these were, then, many more were to follow in the years to come, some overtly, some surreptitiously and yet others by camouflage.
In SWRD.’s Cabinet there was one woman. There was also Dahanayake, later to be Prime Minister, who was always punctual and who came barefooted to meetings with a bottle of eau de cologne and, before he gave up smoking, with a tin of Peacock cigarettes. C. P. de Silva was a double first in mathematics and excelled, by reason of his previous experience as a Civil Servant, in matters relating to land and irrigation.
M. W. H. de Silva, Q. C., Minister of Justice and a kinsman of mine had held high office; he had been a Judge of the Supreme Court and our High Commissioner in India. His nickname in Hultsdorp was the ‘mule’ because, once he had made up his mind, nothing would make him change it. To illustrate this, I shall relate an incident which took place when I was an Assistant Legal Draftsman drafting the Constitution and he was Acting Legal Secretary.
A telegram had come from the Secretary of State asking for an amendment to be drafted on certain lines. M. W. H. told me the lines on which to draft. This was, in my opinion, not the lines that the Colonial Office intended, but I did not tell him so. Instead, I discussed the matter with D. S. Jayawickrama, Assistant Legal Secretary and E. H. T. Gunasekera, Crown Counsel, both of whom agreed that my interpretation of the telegram was right and that M. W. H. was wrong.
I accordingly ignored the Acting Legal Secretary’s order and drafted according to what I thought the Secretary of State wanted and took the draft to M. W. H. to be told “This is not what I want. Please draft on these lines”. I told him politely that I did not think that his interpretation of the telegram was correct, and he, equally politely, told me not to waste his time but to draft as directed by him.
I therefore went and prepared a fresh draft, but was careful to send it to him with a letter in which I said that the draft gave effect to his oral instructions but, in my opinion, did not give effect to the Secretary of State’s instructions as set out in his telegram. My second draft was telegraphed to England and soon there came back a telegram saying that the draft was not what they wanted.
M. W. H. sent for me and asked me to re-draft and I said “I told you, Sir”. All that the mule said was “Well, your job is to draft. Draft again”. I said “Here’s my first draft which you rejected earlier” and he was compelled to accept it. Except for this idiosyncrasy, he was a straight and honest and upright man, pleasant in his manner, with a sense of wit and humour. During a Cabinet discussion in which he was not interested, he would doodle, always the figure of a female.
There was William Silva, young in years, as Minister of Industries. He appeared to understand his work and the nature of his duties and made a useful contribution to the discussion. In charge of Finance was Stanley de Zoysa, an old Royalist, about two years senior to me at school, and an exceedingly polite man. Philip Gunawardene, Minister of Agriculture and food must, as a student, have spent long hours poring over Das Kapital. I had never met him before, but when I was a student in London, I had seen him addressing the mob on Sundays in Hyde Park from a soap box – a platform called the Indian Freedom League.
He always wore a canary jersey, and was a very effective and forceful speaker, with plenty of venom against the Britisher, ready wit and repartee. I mentioned this fact to him at his first meeting when I introduced myself, and he agreed that my memory was correct. He is the only Minister I have worked with since the beginning of Cabinet Government who came to a meeting thoroughly prepared, not only on his own memoranda, but also on the papers submitted by other Ministers. He would bring with him a number of Sessional Papers, Administration Reports and other official documents not referred to in the other Ministers Cabinet Papers but relevant to the issue. When he spoke, he never failed to make a useful contribution to the discussion.
As Minister of Agriculture, he was in charge of Paddy Lands and brought what the landowners thought was a revolutionary Bill. As Minister of Food, he was in charge of the Co-operative Wholesale Establishment. In all his functions, he was inclined to take as much legislative power as possible into his hands. This, the other Ministers resented, particularly, the Prime Minister. Philip was definitely of the Left. SWRD, in spite of his public statements that he was for democratic socialism or for socialistic democracy or for the middle path or for pancha sila (he was so clever in stating or not stating his position that I think nobody ever understood what exactly he stood for) was inclined towards the Right. A rift had to come, and it came. Philip’s draft legislation, submitted for Cabinet approval, gave the Cabinet the idea that he, and not SWRD was to be the virtual dictator. What with the Paddy Lands Act, the Multipurpose Cooperative Societies, the People’s Bank and the Co-operative Banking system, and a heap of other legislation he proposed, he would have been in a position to wield tremendous power in the country.
These proposals were obviously put forward to implement his political creed and not for the furtherance of his personal position. I believe he was an honest man, not capable of being bribed or influenced. When be was annoyed, his reaction was violent.
Among the other Ministers were Mrs Wimala Wijewardena, Messrs A. P. Jayasuriya, Kuruppu, Marikkar and Maithripala Senanayake.
The Cabinet came to certain decisions at its first meeting. Ministers had no time to formulate their thoughts in memoranda and the discussion was on very general points. As a People’s Government, they did not believe in Honours and decided that no recommendation should be made to Her Majesty the Queen for the conferment of Imperial Honours on citizens of Ceylon and that Her Majesty be humbly and respectfully requested to be graciously pleased to refrain from conferring such Honours on such of Her subjects as were Ceylon citizens.
Some Ministers thought that the appointment of an advocate to be a Queen’s Counsel was the conferment of an Imperial Honour. Local honours suffered the same fate. Our Diplomatic Missions abroad, Ministers and public officers were informed that no alcoholic liquor was to be served at official functions. The Senate and the House of Representatives were requested to close their bars: the House acquiesced, the Senate refused.
The Prime Minister informed his Ministers that it was his intention to obtain the services of an expert from the United Kingdom to advise the Government with regard to the nationalization of the transport services. On the budget drastic changes could not be made as the budgetary proposals for the next financial year had already been drawn up by the public officials concerned. While accepting the general structure of the next budget, Ministers were requested to include, wherever possible, in the draft estimates, all necessary items in furtherance of the policy of the Government and to omit any items which were in conflict with that policy.
With a view to bringing down the cost of living, it was proposed to reduce the price of rice and sugar. It was pointed out that a reduction in the price of rice by one cent a measure would mean an annual loss to revenue of seven million rupees, and a similar reduction in the price of sugar would mean a loss of three million rupees. In spite of the difficult financial position, something had to be done by the Government, and it was agreed to reduce the price of rice by ten cents a measure and the price of sugar by five cents a pound.
The Minister was asked to explore the possibility of buying sugar direct on a Governmental basis with a view to eliminating middlemen and reducing the cost to the consumer. The Governments of the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics made offers of economic aid which the Cabinet gratefully accepted.
The Cabinet considered seriously the question of abolishing the death penalty for murder, although the murder rate in Ceylon was probably the highest in the world. We had a Buddhist teetotal Minister of Justice, M. W. H., who was strongly in favour of the proposal, and he persuaded the Cabinet to agree to a suspension of the death penalty for a period of three years in the case of murder, abetment of murder and abetment of suicide. A sentence of life imprisonment was substituted.
On July 7, 1956, the Official Language Act, declaring Sinhala to be the one Official Language in Ceylon, came into operation. This immediately split the country into two, separating the Sinhalese from the Tamils whose ancient language had been removed from the scene altogether. This controversial piece of legislation antagonized the entire Tamil community and, for the first time after years of DS’s strenuous efforts to make the numerous races and communities, religious and otherwise, of the country into one homogeneous whole, the country was being divided by SWRD.’s Sinhala only Act.
Features
The quiet habits behind wealth: Without chasing appearances
by Prof. C. A. Saliya
When people picture wealth, they often imagine luxury cars, large homes and expensive holidays. But financial advisers who work with wealthy clients describe a different picture: people who spend carefully, keep cash aside, invest patiently and understand the risks they take.
A recent Research NZ report, based on interviews with financial advisers, found that many wealthy people are discreet about money. They tend to live within their means, maintain emergency savings, take calculated investment risks and pay close attention to tax and financial structures.
For Sri Lankan families facing high living costs, loan repayments and uncertainty about the future, the lesson is not that everyone must become rich overnight. It is that better financial habits can create greater security over time.
Wealth is often quiet
One of the strongest habits associated with long-term financial stability is controlled spending. Many people with high incomes do not automatically increase their lifestyle every time they earn more. Instead, they decide in advance what they can afford, save consistently and avoid treating every salary increase as permission to spend more.
This does not mean denying life’s small pleasures. It means knowing the difference between a need, a want and a purchase made only to impress others.
In Sri Lanka, where social pressure can sometimes encourage visible spending on weddings, vehicles, clothing or celebrations, this is a difficult but useful principle. A household that earns well but spends everything may look prosperous while remaining financially fragile. By contrast, a family that saves even a modest amount regularly can build options: education for children, a medical reserve, a home deposit or capital for a small business.
The Central Bank of Sri Lanka’s financial-literacy survey found that bank-account ownership is high, but financial behaviour remains a concern. Its later roadmap notes that Sri Lankans show satisfactory financial knowledge compared with other countries, while positive everyday financial behaviour still lags behind.
Knowledge, in other words, is not enough. People also need routines.
Keep an emergency fund before taking bigger risks
The wealthy people described in the RNZ article often kept readily available savings for genuine emergencies and avoided using these funds for ordinary spending.
This is perhaps the most practical lesson for an average family. An emergency fund is not money that “does nothing.” It is money that protects a household from making a desperate decision when illness, job loss, vehicle repairs or an unexpected school expense arrives.
For some, the first target may be one month of essential expenses. Over time, it can be increased. The point is not perfection; it is having a buffer.
Without one, families may turn to costly borrowing, informal lenders or repeated credit-card debt. Research on household finance shows that weak credit knowledge, cross-borrowing and reliance on informal debt can increase the risk of over-indebtedness.
Saving alone may not be enough—but investing requires care
Saving is the starting point, not always the final destination. Money kept entirely in cash or low-return accounts can lose purchasing power over time, especially when prices rise. This is why financially secure people often invest—not recklessly, but with an understanding that long-term returns usually require some level of risk.
The key phrase is calculated risk. That means asking basic questions before investing: What is the business model? Is the institution regulated? How easily can I access my money? What happens if the investment falls in value? Am I being promised unusually high returns? Do I understand where my money is going?
A proper investment plan should not depend on rumours, social-media tips or promises of “guaranteed” profits. It should be diversified where possible—spread across suitable assets rather than placed in a single company, property deal or scheme.
For a young worker, investing may begin with a small, regular contribution. For a business owner, it may mean reinvesting carefully in a viable enterprise. For a family nearing retirement, capital protection and predictable income may matter more than aggressive growth. There is no single plan for everyone.
Debt can build wealth or destroy it

The RNZ article also makes a more controversial point: wealthy people sometimes use other people’s money, through debt or outside equity, to build businesses or buy assets. When investment returns exceed borrowing costs, borrowing can magnify gains. But the reverse is equally true: when returns fall or income is interrupted, debt magnifies losses.
This distinction is crucial in Sri Lanka.
Debt used for a productive purpose—such as a well-researched business, equipment that generates income, or an asset with manageable repayments—can be different from debt used for consumption. Borrowing for status purchases, repeated expenses or a lifestyle beyond one’s income can quickly become a burden.
Before taking a loan, families should calculate the monthly repayment under difficult conditions, not only favourable ones. Could the instalment still be paid if income falls? Is the interest rate fixed or variable? Is there enough emergency savings left after the initial payment? These questions may feel cautious, but caution is often what keeps a financial setback from becoming a crisis.
Pay attention to taxes and paperwork
Another quiet habit of financially successful people is paying attention to tax. They understand that the amount earned is not the same as the amount kept. They keep records, claim lawful deductions where applicable and structure businesses or investments properly.
The quiet habits
For self-employed people and small-business owners, this can be especially important. Clear records of income, expenses, invoices and taxes are not merely administrative chores. They help owners understand whether a business is truly profitable and make it easier to obtain formal finance when needed.
This is not an argument for avoiding tax. It is an argument for understanding the rules, meeting obligations and using legitimate options available under the law. When in doubt, taxpayers should seek advice from a qualified professional.
The human side of money
The most important lesson is that wealth is rarely created by one dramatic decision. It is usually built through repeated small choices: saving before spending, avoiding unnecessary debt, learning before investing, and staying patient when others are chasing quick gains.
A literature review of household finance supports this practical view. Studies consistently associate financial literacy, planning, self-control and budgeting with better saving and investment decisions. At the same time, the research warns that financial outcomes are shaped by income, access to formal financial services and economic conditions—not simply by individual discipline.
That matters in Sri Lanka, where many households are working hard simply to meet daily needs. Advice about wealth should never become blame. Not everyone starts with the same income, family support or opportunity.
But the habits that strengthen financial resilience are available in some form to most people: keep records, build a buffer, question easy-money promises, borrow carefully and make decisions based on long-term goals rather than short-term appearances. (See table)
Wealth may not always look glamorous. Often, it looks like an emergency fund nobody sees, an investment made patiently, a loan avoided, and a family that sleeps more peacefully because it has planned ahead.
(Prof. C. A. Saliya, is a charted accountant, academic, researcher and former banker. He is the author of SAMAJA GAVESHAKAYA and Springer Publication DOING SOCIAL RESEARCH. He can be contacted at saliya.ca@gmail.com. The views expressed in this article are his own and do not necessarily represent those of the organisations with which he is affiliated.)
Features
Tusker Kavantissa’s death exposes Sri Lanka’s wildlife conservation crisis
by Prof. Ranjith Bandara,
Emeritus Professor, University of Colombo
This article examines why community exclusion, excessive bureaucratic control, unequal distribution of conservation benefits, weak institutional accountability, and short-sighted political leadership continue to undermine wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka.
The death of Tusker Kavantissa is more than the loss of one of Sri Lanka’s most remarkable wild elephants. It exposes uncomfortable questions about how we protect our natural heritage, how conservation decisions are made, and why repeated warnings have failed to produce meaningful reforms. His death should compel us to examine not only what happened to one extraordinary animal, but also the deeper weaknesses in our wildlife conservation system.
Tusker Kavantissa, one of Sri Lanka’s most prominent wild tuskers, died on 16 October, 2026, after receiving veterinary treatment for an injury, reportedly caused by gunfire. Although the wound had shown some improvement, his health subsequently deteriorated. The precise cause of death requires confirmation through a proper post-mortem examination. Nevertheless, the circumstances raise serious questions about preventive protection, wildlife management, and institutional preparedness.
The wider picture is equally disturbing. According to recently reported figures, Sri Lanka has lost an average of approximately 402 elephants and 138 people annually, since 2019, due to human–elephant conflict. These figures reflect a continuing national tragedy affecting both wildlife and rural communities.
What Sri Lanka faces today is not merely a wildlife conservation problem. It is also a crisis of environmental governance, shaped by institutional weaknesses, political decisions, and the failure to recognise the economic and social realities of conservation.
Conservation without communities
One of the fundamental weaknesses of our conservation approach is that local communities are often treated as subjects of regulation rather than partners in conservation. They are expected to bear the risks, respect restrictions, and cooperate with government programmes, yet their influence over decisions affecting their lives remains limited.
For rural families living alongside wild elephants, conservation is not an abstract environmental objective. It directly affects their safety, agricultural income, property, and everyday lives.
Farmers frequently possess valuable knowledge about elephant movements, vulnerable locations, seasonal changes, and practical protection measures. Yet conservation interventions are sometimes designed without adequately considering this experience.
When decisions are imposed from above, communities may feel excluded from programmes they are expected to support. This weakens trust, reduces cooperation, and ultimately undermines conservation outcomes.
We must recognise that protecting elephants and protecting farmers are not conflicting objectives. Both are essential. A conservation policy that safeguards wildlife while neglecting human security cannot be considered successful.
The real challenge is to replace conservation imposed on communities with conservation undertaken alongside them. Meaningful participation requires more than consultation meetings. Communities must have a genuine role in planning, implementing, monitoring, and evaluating conservation activities.
Bureaucratic authority versus public accountability
Wildlife conservation requires strong institutions, professional expertise, and effective regulations. However, excessive bureaucratic control can become an obstacle when administrative authority takes precedence over practical outcomes.
Decision-making in Sri Lanka’s conservation system remains heavily dependent on central institutions. Administrative procedures, overlapping responsibilities, and limited coordination can delay responses to urgent problems.
More importantly, excessive centralisation can discourage local innovation and prevent communities from contributing practical solutions.
When administrative authority becomes more important than results, conservation risks becoming an exercise in controlling people rather than protecting nature.
This criticism should not be confused with questioning the dedication of frontline wildlife officers and veterinarians. Many work under difficult conditions with limited resources. The efforts undertaken to save Tusker Kavantissa deserve recognition.
However, individual commitment cannot compensate indefinitely for institutional weaknesses.
We must ask whether our conservation institutions have the capacity to identify risks early, protect vulnerable animals, coordinate emergency responses, and evaluate the effectiveness of their interventions.
Public accountability should, therefore, extend beyond compliance with administrative procedures to measurable conservation outcomes.
Who bears costs, and who receives benefits?
Perhaps the most neglected dimension of wildlife conservation in Sri Lanka is the unequal distribution of its economic costs and benefits.
Wild elephants contribute substantially to tourism, biodiversity, cultural heritage, and the country’s international image. Their conservation generates benefits enjoyed by society as a whole.
Yet the financial and personal costs are concentrated among rural communities living within elephant habitats.
A study published in 2023, involving 300 farming households in southern Sri Lanka, revealed a striking imbalance. Although these households lived near two national parks, none received economic benefits from tourism. Meanwhile, 57 percent had experienced elephant-related crop damage.
The findings raise a fundamental economic question: if the entire country benefits from elephant conservation, why should a relatively small and vulnerable section of society bear a disproportionate share of its costs?
Conservation cannot remain economically sustainable when its benefits are widely enjoyed but its costs are concentrated among those least able to bear them.
A separate study, published in 2024, involving 439 affected farming households, examined the possibility of financing compensation through tourism revenue. It demonstrated the potential for tourism-based financial mechanisms to support human–elephant coexistence.
The policy implications are significant
A proportion of wildlife tourism revenue could be directed towards affected communities through transparent benefit-sharing arrangements. Such measures could support compensation, village protection, local employment, community enterprises, and agricultural improvements.
However, financial compensation alone is insufficient. The 2023 study also indicated that fear of elephants and concerns about crop damage strongly influenced community attitudes. People must feel safe in their homes and farms, not merely receive payment after suffering losses.
Equitable benefit-sharing is, therefore, more than an act of generosity. It is an economic and social requirement for sustainable conservation.
Political decisions and absence of long-term vision
The weaknesses in wildlife conservation cannot be attributed solely to public officials. Political leadership must accept its share of responsibility.
Poor land-use planning, habitat fragmentation, obstruction of elephant movement corridors, and development decisions that inadequately consider environmental consequences have contributed to human–elephant conflict.
Political decisions made for immediate gains can create environmental and economic costs lasting for decades.
Another weakness is the preference for visible, short-term interventions.
Constructing electric fences, relocating elephants, and launching emergency operations can attract considerable publicity. However, such interventions should be evaluated according to their effectiveness, not their visibility.
Political leadership should be judged not by the number of conservation programmes announced, but by the lives protected, conflicts prevented, and long-term improvements achieved.
There is also a serious problem of policy continuity. Conservation cannot be governed according to electoral cycles or changing political priorities.
Elephant habitats, migration patterns, and ecological processes do not change with governments. Successful conservation, therefore, requires consistent national commitments extending beyond individual political administrations.
Without such continuity, public investment may be wasted while the underlying problems remain unresolved.
Problem is not always a lack of policy
Sri Lanka’s conservation crisis cannot be explained simply by a shortage of scientific knowledge or policy recommendations.
In many instances, the greater challenge lies in translating available knowledge into coordinated, adequately funded, and politically supported action.
The National Action Plan for the Mitigation of Human–Elephant Conflict, prepared in 2020, proposed a science-based approach that emphasised community participation, protection of villages and agricultural land, and more effective conflict-management strategies.
Yet an important question remains: how much of this plan has been implemented successfully?
Have implementation difficulties arisen from inadequate resources, weak institutional coordination, administrative resistance, or insufficient political commitment?
An independent assessment of the plan’s implementation would help identify these obstacles and establish clear responsibilities.
We must also recognise that a substantial proportion of Sri Lanka’s wild elephants live outside protected areas. Attempting to confine all elephants within national parks and forest reserves is, therefore, neither realistic nor sustainable.
Effective conservation requires land-use policies informed by elephant ecology, settlement patterns, agricultural needs, and the practical realities of human–wildlife coexistence.
A sound policy that remains largely unimplemented offers little protection to either elephants or people.
Towards more responsible conservation system
Sri Lanka needs a fundamental change in how wildlife conservation is governed.
Four priorities deserve immediate attention.
First, local communities must become genuine partners in conservation management, with meaningful responsibilities and decision-making opportunities.
Second, conservation benefits must be distributed more fairly. Wildlife tourism should contribute directly to protecting the livelihoods and safety of communities that bear conservation costs.
Third, existing national conservation plans should be independently reviewed to identify implementation gaps and establish a realistic timetable for corrective action.
Fourth, conservation institutions must become more accountable for measurable outcomes, including reductions in human deaths, elephant mortality, crop losses, and property damage.
These reforms require cooperation among wildlife, forestry, agriculture, land, irrigation, and local government institutions.
They also demand political leadership willing to prioritise long-term results over short-term publicity.
For exceptional animals, such as Tusker Kavantissa, improved risk monitoring, preventive protection, and timely veterinary responses are particularly important. However, conservation should not be limited to protecting a few well-known animals.
Every wild elephant has ecological value, just as every person living alongside elephants has an equal right to safety.
The objective must be a system that protects both.
Lesson tusker Kavantissa leaves behind
The death of Tusker Kavantissa should not become another moment of national sorrow that gradually fades from public memory. It should mark a turning point in how Sri Lanka approaches wildlife conservation.
A proper investigation into his death is essential. Equally important is an honest examination of the conservation system within which such tragedies continue to occur.
The real challenge is not choosing between people and elephants. It is creating a system in which both can coexist safely, and where the responsibilities, costs, and benefits of conservation are shared fairly.
This requires more than scientific expertise and stronger regulations. It demands accountable institutions, meaningful community participation, economic fairness, and political leadership guided by a clear long-term vision.
Our greatest failure would not be the loss of Tusker Kavantissa alone. It would be allowing the same weaknesses in our conservation system to claim more lives while we continue to avoid the reforms that could prevent them.
Features
Equality before the Law as foundation of Sri Lanka’s recovery
by Jehan Perera
The government appears set to overcome the first major challenge to one of its foundational principles. It has faced down demands from sections of the Buddhist clergy and opposition parties to release Ven. Galagodaatte Gnanasara from his prison sentence for contempt of court.
Ven Gnanasara is best known as the general secretary of the Bodu Bala Sena, a nationalist Sinhala grouping. The government seemed unfazed by a protest march organised by Buddhist monks and the opposition parties and its supporters organised an even bigger march to support the government’s position. It is notable that the general population did not get involved in either march in any substantial number. The issue has now become a test of whether the government will uphold its commitment to apply the law equally, irrespective of a person’s position or status, even when doing so brings it into conflict with a powerful constituency.
The case has a specific legal history. Ven. Gnanasara was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment by the Court of Appeal in 2018 for contempt of court in a case involving former military personnel where he disrupted the proceedings. The Supreme Court rejected his appeal in 2018. Former President Maithripala Sirisena subsequently granted him a presidential pardon in 2019. Last month, the Supreme Court invalidated that pardon. The initial demand by Buddhist monks and their lay supporters was that Ven. Gnanasara should be permitted to wear his Buddhist robes when appearing in public before the courts. The government has indicated its willingness to examine the procedures governing the treatment of Buddhist monks in prison, in consultation with the relevant religious authorities. However, the initial demand has now been escalated into a demand for a presidential pardon.
One of the central promises of the National People’s Power (NPP) during its election campaign two years ago was to apply the law equally to all. This commitment has shaped the government’s approach to allegations of corruption and criminality involving individuals who previously wielded political power. The NPP government was swept into power on a wave of antipathy towards those in previous governments who were perceived to have abused their positions for private gain. The economic collapse Sri Lanka experienced in 2022, and the hardships endured across society, remain vivid in the public memory. The past two years have seen the government pursuing those accused of corruption and other offences. Several high-ranking members of previous governments have faced arrest and legal proceedings and been sentenced to jail.
Religious Concerns
The ability of opposition parties to mobilise widespread resistance against proceedings involving their leaders has been limited, as much of the general population continues to favour accountability for past financial crimes. However, the case of Ven. Gnanasara is different. It does not concern allegations of financial corruption, but the relationship between religious authority, the courts and the law of the land. This is where the distinction between respecting religious traditions and upholding the law becomes crucial. There is a sense among sections of the general population that Buddhist monks should not be treated on a par with others and that requiring Ven. Gnanasara to appear in court without his robes was unjust and contrary to the national ethos. Such sentiments reflect the special place Buddhism occupies in Sri Lanka’s history and society. Sinhala Buddhist nationalism has been a potent political force throughout the country’s history, drawing on a heritage that extends back more than two millennia. The question is whether respect for Buddhism needs to also entail the exemption of individual monks from the ordinary requirements of the law and thereby treat them differently.
The challenge would be to accommodate legitimate religious concerns through rational and lawful procedures without allowing religious status to become a source of legal privilege. The government has been amenable to addressing the issue of monastic robes, but has so far resisted the demand to release Ven. Gnanasara through a new pardon. President Anura Kumara Dissanayake and government members have made it clear that the government would not bend the law to accommodate any individual. They have taken the position that any shortcomings in existing rules should be addressed by changing the rules through proper procedures, rather than by making an exception for a particular individual. If the government holds its position, it will demonstrate that its commitment to the rule of law extends even to constituencies that have historically enjoyed considerable political influence.
This is important not only for the country’s democratic institutions but also for its economic future. Sri Lanka is seeking to recover from its economic collapse and establish the foundations for sustained growth. The International Monetary Fund’s analysis of Sri Lanka’s governance weaknesses has repeatedly emphasised the economic costs of corruption and institutional deficiencies. Its 2024 analysis of governance and growth concluded that comprehensive and coherent reforms could bring significant macroeconomic benefits. The IMF’s 2025 assessment also highlighted the importance of sustained governance reforms in unlocking the country’s growth potential. Investors, both domestic and foreign, need confidence that public institutions function according to predictable rules, that contracts and property rights are protected, and that political connections or social status will not determine how the law is applied.
Sensitive Issue
Sri Lanka has long sought the leap towards prosperity that has proved elusive under successive governments. Economic reform alone will not achieve it. The connection between the rule of law and economic prosperity is direct. Businesses are more likely to invest when they can expect disputes to be resolved fairly, public resources to be managed transparently and regulatory decisions to be made on rational grounds. No country can achieve a durable economic take-off if its institutions are perceived to operate according to political favour, inherited privilege or communal pressure. Sri Lanka cannot afford to return to a political culture in which powerful interests are shielded from accountability while ordinary citizens bear the costs.
Changing a political culture that has evolved over the decades if not centuries is a difficult undertaking, particularly in a country where political leaders have long relied on religious and communal identities to consolidate their support. It requires not only firmness but also sensitivity, dialogue and a willingness to reform laws and institutions where genuine deficiencies exist. The present controversy offers an opportunity to demonstrate that these objectives need not be in conflict. The government can respect the Buddhist clergy’s concerns about the treatment of monks in prison while refusing to grant an individual an exemption from a judicial sentence. It can recognise the importance of Buddhism to the country while maintaining that no religious or political authority stands above the law.
The question is whether national traditions and ethos are interpreted in ways that strengthen justice, responsibility and social harmony, or invoked to defend privileges that undermine them. The country needs a transformation in public expectations from privilege to accountability, from communal claims to equal citizenship, and from personal discretion to institutions governed by law.
The government’s handling of the case involving Ven. Gnanasara is therefore about more than one monk or one sentence. This particular case will determine whether the government can build a system in which no government, religious authority or politically influential individuals can place themselves beyond the law. A just society must be able to honour both its traditions and its commitment to equality before the law.
-
Features3 days agoKotahena:A Small Enclave, An Extraordinary Legacy
-
News4 days agoAsgiri Mahanayake calls for immediate release of Gnanasara Thera
-
News3 days agoRecord 1,600 students take Russian Classical Ballet examination in Sri Lanka
-
News6 days agoAC President recuses himself from hearing prison attire case pertaining to Gnanasara Thera
-
News5 days agoNaval officer testifies Yoshitha received Rs. 5.15 mn in salaries during SLN service
-
News3 days agoKarannagoda pushed for £24,536 for Yoshitha’s UK training, Court told
-
Editorial5 days agoSaving Anojan: Beyond Executioner’s Blade
-
News6 days agoCID informs Fort Magistrate’s Court investigation into money laundering case against Namal completed
