Features
The 1956 election landslide and SWRD Bandaranaike’s tenure (1956 — 1959)
(Excerpted from Rendering Unto Caesar, memoirs of Bradman Weerakoon)
My acquaintance with S W R D Bandaranaike was only through the press reports of his election campaign. That was before he came to the prime minister’s office in the Fort (now housing the foreign ministry at Republic Square), on an April morning, after the swearing in of his Cabinet at Queen’s House. His eloquence as a speaker, especially his Independence Day speech in 1948, was deeply imprinted in my mind.
Throughout a gruelling campaign he had shown extraordinary skills of perseverance in the face of severe odds, and the ability to persuade large masses of ordinary people to believe in his cause. I wondered how he would be to work with after I had experienced the rather easy going style of Sir John. There was also the serious business to be faced of how soon he would be able to make his election slogan of `Sinhala Only’ as the official language in 24 hours come true?
His accession to power through the general elections of 1956 was as revolutionary and dramatic as it was unexpected by his political opponents and the general public. Most felt that the UNP would return even with a reduced majority. All but the most perceptive, and my friend Howard Wriggins was among them, were convinced that Mr Bandaranaike’s bid for office would end in failure. Indeed as against the forces of capital, both local and foreign, and the mainstream Press which supported the UNP, the pancha maha balavegaya — the five great forces of the Sangha (Buddhist clergy), the vernacular school teachers, the ayurvedic physicians, the farmers and the workers — which he conceptualized and mobilized seemed ephemeral and insubstantial.
Yet he achieved the impossible and in an election over three days, which intended to favour the incumbent government, the Mahajana Eksath Peramuna — MEP (Peoples United Front) managed to win 51 out of the 60 seats they contested. For the record, I should mention that all the ministers of the previous government and Sir John were up for election on the first day while Bandaranaike’s constituency was to poll only on the final day. As it turned out Bandaranaike himself was returned to the Attanagalla seat (where ‘Horagolla Walauwa’ the family home is located) with the highest ever majority in an election. He polled 45,016 votes and had a majority of almost 12,000 over his nearest rival. Both his rivals lost their deposits.
A major factor in the 1956 election was Bandaranaike’s ability to consolidate the opposition to the UNP. He formed a grand coalition with four distinct political groups agreeing to fight the election as a single front on a common program and with the promise of making Sinhala the official language. The MEP was not a political party but a ‘peramuna‘ – a loose, less disciplined entity with a specific purpose, the defeat of the UNP.
Mr Bandaranaike’s Sri Lanka Freedom Party had the largest number of candidates in the MEP — 41 in all. The VLSSP of Mr Philip Gunawardene had five candidates; Bhasha Peramuna (Language Front) of Mr Dahanayake, MP Galle; and a group of eight independents led by Mr I M R A Iriyagolle. There were 60 candidates in all facing a solid UNP phalanx of 76 candidates, many of them sitting members.
At its start the coalition appeared an impractical and unlikely combination. Mr Bandaranaike was known to have an aristocratic background but with vaguely socialist tendencies and a marked sensitivity to Buddhist and Sinhalese religious and language aspirations. Dahanayake had the reputation of being close to the “common man” and had recently moved away from Marxism. Philip Gunawardene was a Marxist who was now convinced about language reform. The question was how they would combine on a common program of social and economic development.
Bandaranaike clinched the issue of a united front against the UNP by entering into a no–contest agreement with the Communist Party and the NLSSP. By this it was ensured that the three parties – MEP, Communist Party and NLSSP would not compete against each other in areas where the UNP was contesting. It raised some difficulties because the latter two parties would have liked to fight the VLSSP – the breakaway group from the LSSP – and it took all of Bandaranaike’s skills of persuasion to sort this out.
Yet, by the look of things at the beginning of the campaign, Bandaranaike’s chances appeared slim. This was especially noticeable when Bernard Aluvihare, former MP from Matale and a joint secretary of the SLFP, deserted Mr Bandaranaike and went over to the UNP on the eve of the election. Yet, the MEP achieved a landslide victory. Once the wind changed, the momentum was unstoppable. The results left us all speechless. In a House of 101, as many as 95 were elected on a first past the post basis, and six to be nominated later to represent interests, mainly ethnic and not represented adequately through election, the MEP won 51 seats and the UNP was reduced to eight.
The NLSSP and C P benefited by the no-contest pact and won 14 and three seats respectively with the redoubtable Dr N M Perera becoming the leader of the opposition. The other parties which returned members were the Federal Party with a significant 10 seats, gaining eight seats over the two they had in the 1952 elections as a result of the major political parties opting for Sinhala as the official language, and the Tamil Congress getting one seat, that of G G Ponnambalam. Eight members came in as independents.
The election was clearly a manifestation of the will of the people for a complete change. Impartial observers asserted that unlike in the previous elections which had resulted in many electoral challenges, in 1956 there had been few instances of bribery, violence or impersonation. Sir John who won at Dodangaslanda – his country borough (the family had been prominent in the graphite industry and the mines were located there) – was one of the very few UNP members who returned in the 1956 change around.
But since he was not even the leader of the opposition – that position having gone to the LSSP chief, N M Perera whose alliance had won 17 seats – he hardly returned to parliament thereafter and soon left the country, virtually retiring to Kent in England where he bought himself an estate called Brogues Wood and on which he lived happily for many years.
Two little incidents which I personally experienced come to mind to illustrate the political culture of the times and the quality of the men who led the country. The first is that of Mr Bandaranaike, on the first day that the new parliament met, going across the floor of the house and patting Sir John on the shoulder to show his appreciation of an election contest well fought. There was absolutely no malice in Mr Bandaranaike’s character. In fact it was Mr Bandaranaike who helped in getting Exchange Control release for the large sum of money Sir John needed for the purchase of Brogues Wood.
The other was my final visit to Kandawala to hand over some personal papers – letters and accounts – which I had found soon after the change of government. I drove in alone in my Morris Minor car and parked in the driveway. Kandawala that morning presented a very different picture from the usual bustle and noise that pervaded the place. There was no one in the verandah and the grand house which had seen such rollicking parties and egg-hopper; breakfasts seemed deserted. On announcing my arrival to an old retainer, I waited for Sir John who came down and sat with me in the verandah.
After thanking me for coming he said that I should not stay long as someone might misunderstand my visit. He then abruptly remarked, “Weerakoon, (he never called me Bradman or Brad) I am like the elephant. I never forget.”
The year 1956 saw the first real change of regime the young state had ever faced. The popular mood was such that everything was to change; the way institutions were run and certainly the persons manning them in particular. The Mahajana Eksath Peramuna (MEP) manifesto promised revolutionary change from the way the UNP had governed the country in the first nine years of freedom. It was not only the language policy, which had priority and an insistent lobby behind it, but everything else that underpinned it.
This was especially so on the cultural side where indigenous forms and practices were set to soon replace the western modes of thought and habit which had gained acceptance in Colombo’s elite circles of society. The banning of horse racing and the consumption of liquor at public functions were two of the most visible of the early measures taken by the new administration to project the new trend. The writing was clear for all to see: the era of the brown sahib as Tarzie Vittachi had told of was coming to an end.
That the government was indeed a peoples’ government was unexpectedly and forcefully expressed when at the opening of Parliament the people in the overflowing public galleries actually invaded the sanctum – the floor of the House itself – and some of them disported themselves in the speaker’s chair.
The change was also to encompass the arena of foreign policy. Bandaranaike and the socialist texture of the Cabinet made it inevitable that the old reliance on the Western alliance and even the Commonwealth had to change.
Very soon, after he took over, the Suez Crisis erupted and Mr Bandaranaike’s address to the General Assembly at the UN made his non-aligned attitude very clear. He made a brilliant exposition of what non-alignment meant, that it was not simply neutrality, not merely sitting on the fence but being committed to the hilt in the defence of peace and freedom. The old order was changing and as Bandaranaike was to remind us, over and over again, it was a time of transition.
Moving the officials of his administration out or around was one of Mr Bandaranaike’s early tasks as prime minister. But he was very conscious of the fact that, barring a very few who were really politically committed, the average bureaucrat mostly carried out faithfully, if he or she was careful and efficient, the biddings of his or her political boss.
Bandaranaike correctly surmised that this would be the same for the new master and therefore was somewhat slower than his followers expected in shifting out those who they felt were `henchmen’ of the former regime. I once heard him explain his alleged dilatoriness over such transfers very clearly and precisely. “I have,” he said, “only just taken control of the wheel. I can’t, my dear fellow,” (he was quite fond of that phrase especially when addressing those he considered slightly below him in intellect) “change all the parts at the same time or I won’t be able to move at all. I will replace
the brake first, the rear wheel next and the carburetor after that, and so on, and soon have a reconditioned model.
But you must give me time”. His timing and logic were perfect and the questioner silenced. But even more important, I thought, was that it showed his essential humanism and liberality. And what would he do with me whom he hardly knew and only as the other civil servant in the office? After an almost two year cadetship (that was what the probation period was called in the CCS) in Anuradhapura and Jaffna, the furthest of the outlying districts, which I had thoroughly enjoyed as a bachelor, outstation life did not now seem particularly enticing. I had got engaged to Damayanthi and the wedding had been fixed for August – only four months away and it would be nice to stay on in Colombo. But I dared not ask.
Finally it was all sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction. Park Nadesan, who had been very close to Sir John, retired on special ‘abolition of office’ terms – which meant he would be entitled to his pension rights though he was leaving before due time. There was to be no post of secretary to the prime minister at least for some time; I stayed on virtually as secretary, but officially as assistant secretary. The formal arrangement was that I would ‘pass the papers’ through the permanent secretary to the ministry of defence and external affairs, the amiable and extremely hard-working Gunasena de Soyza, whom Bandaranaike knew well and had great confidence in.
But as it happened, the prime minister soon began to deal with me directly and, except in the most difficult cases, when I would walk across to the permanent secretary’s room to consult him, the paper flow (or more often chase) was between me and the prime minister at 65, Rosmead Place, his private residence.
I had weathered my first transition. I presumably knew some of the ropes and the new prime minister had thought I could be useful. Since there was not going to be a new secretary appointed officially, I moved into the large and elegantly furnished room which Nadesan had used, overlooking the flamboyant tree-lined Gordon Gardens on Senate Square (now Republic Square). I was to remain there for the next 15 years. I had survived a major political change and not for the first time. I had not taken sides and perhaps Mr Bandaranaike who always did his homework had heard of this. On the other hand it could have been that this first time round I was just too small to be noticed.
From all that the media, the cartoonists and the political writers were saying S W R D Bandaranaike would not only be difficult to get on with but was altogether a very complex personality. D B Dhanapala, the expressive editor of the Lankadipa thought he was ‘an enigma wrapped in a riddle’. Dhanapala’s exasperation in trying to read Mr Bandaranaike’s mind and ways was shared by many others like Tarzie Vittachi6 and Aubrey Collette, the incisive cartoonist.
(To be continued)
Features
Pay attention or pay the price: Sri Lanka’s maritime imperative in a fractured ocean
Sri Lanka stands at a geopolitical crossroads where geography is both its greatest asset and its most vulnerable liability. Sitting astride the Indian Ocean’s critical east-west highway, the waters, south of Dondra Head, channel nearly 30% of the world’s maritime trade. This route is the arterial vein connecting Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. Yet, as tensions flare in the Middle East and great power competition intensifies, Sri Lanka finds itself guarding a highway it does not own, with an economy too fragile to absorb the shocks of collateral damage.
Recent analyses, including insights from the Financial Times on the fragility of global ocean governance, offer a stark warning: international treaties alone cannot guarantee security. The newly enacted UN Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) treaty may be a diplomatic triumph, but as major powers, like the US, sidestep commitments, while China seeks strategic influence, the high seas are becoming increasingly lawless. For Sri Lanka, relying on international law to protect its 600,000 km² Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), is a strategy destined to fail. The moment demands a shift from passive reliance to active resilience.
The Naval Imperative: Sovereignty requires strength
The first pillar of survival is a robust Navy. The FT report highlights that without enforcement mechanisms, marine protected areas become “paper parks.” Similarly, an EEZ without patrol capacity is merely a line on a map. With Sri Lanka’s Navy having just rescued 32 Iranian sailors from the sunken frigate IRIS Dena, following a US submarine strike in nearby international waters, and additional Iranian vessels now seeking assistance, or operating in the region, amid major powers vying for influence, the risk of direct incidents at sea remains very real.
Sri Lanka must accelerate investment in blue-water naval capacity and EEZ surveillance. Strengthening patrols, south of Dondra Head, is not just about conservation, it is about sovereignty. The ability to manage rescue operations, grant diplomatic clearances, and monitor traffic, without external coercion, is the definition of independence. “Might is right” remains the operating principle for some superpowers. Sri Lanka cannot afford to be a bystander in its own waters. A strong Navy acts as a deterrent, ensuring that the 30% of global shipping passing nearby does not become a theatre for proxy conflicts.
Statecraft: Balancing economics and sovereignty
The second pillar is nuanced statecraft. Sri Lanka imports nearly 100% of its fuel, making it hypersensitive to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz. Prolonged conflict in the Middle East will spike oil prices, reigniting inflation and threatening the hard-won economic stability following recent crises. However, economic desperation must not drive diplomatic misalignment.
The smartest priority is strict neutrality. Sri Lanka cannot afford to alienate any major partner – the US, India, China, Iran, or the Gulf states. Coordinating quietly with India for maritime domain awareness is prudent given proximity, but joining any military bloc is perilous. Recent discussions highlight how the US aggressively prioritises resource extraction in international waters, often at the expense of broader environmental protections. Sri Lanka must navigate these competing agendas without becoming a pawn. Publicly urging de-escalation, through forums like the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), allows Colombo to advocate for safe passage without picking sides.
Securing the economy and energy future
The third pillar is economic shielding. The immediate threat is fuel security. The government must build emergency fuel stocks and negotiate alternative suppliers to buffer against Hormuz disruptions. The Central Bank must be prepared to manage rupee pressure as import bills swell. Furthermore, monitoring secondary effects is crucial; higher shipping costs will hit exports like tea and garments, while tourism warnings could dampen arrival numbers.
Long-term resilience demands energy diversification, prioritising solar power. Sri Lanka’s abundant sunshine offers huge potential to cut reliance on Middle Eastern oil and shield the economy from geopolitical shocks. Accelerate rooftop/utility-scale solar with incentives: duty exemptions on equipment, enhanced net-metering, subsidies/loans for households and businesses, and fast-tracked approvals plus battery storage support. This attracts investment, creates jobs, and boosts energy security. Secure financier confidence for sustainable blue economy initiatives without compromising sovereignty.
The bottom line
The message for Sri Lanka is clear: This is a “pay attention or pay the price” moment. The country is geographically positioned on the critical Indian Ocean highway but remains economically fragile. The smartest priorities are to protect people first, secure the seas second, and shield the economy third, all while staying strictly neutral.
Any misstep, whether getting drawn into naval incidents or visibly picking sides in a great power struggle, would be far costlier than the fuel price hike itself. The global oceans treaty may offer a framework for cooperation, but as experts warn, we need “systems of co-operation that go beyond the mere words on the page.” For Sri Lanka, those systems must be built on national capacity, diplomatic agility, and an unwavering commitment to neutrality. The ocean is rising with tension; Sri Lanka must ensure it does not drown in the wake.
Reference:
“The geopolitics of the global oceans treaty”https://www.ft.com/content/563bef02-f4a7-42c3-9cfa-7c3fe51be1eb
By Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com
Features
Winds of Change:Geopolitics at the crossroads of South and Southeast Asia
Asanga Abeyagoonasekera’s latest book is a comprehensive account of international relations in the regions it covers, with particular reference to current rivalries between India and China and the United States. It deals with shifting alliances, or rather alliances that grow stronger or weaker through particular developments: there are no actual breaks in a context in which the three contestants for power in the region are wooing or threatening smaller countries, moving seamlessly from one mode to the other though generally in diplomatic terms.
The area is now widely referred to as the Indo-Pacific. Though that term was coined over a hundred years ago by a German keen to challenge the Anglo-American hegemony that triumphed after the First World War, it gained currency more recently, following a speech by the hawkish Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, who was instrumental in developing the Quad Alliance between Japan, India, the United States and Australia.
This marked a radical change in Indian Foreign Policy, for India had prided itself previously on being Non-Aligned, while the West saw it as close to the Soviet Union and then to Russa. But as Abeyagoonasekera constantly reiterates, India’s approach is governed now by nervousness about China, which in the last couple of decades has made deep inroads into the Indian Ocean. Now many states around this Ocean, relatively far from China, are being closely connected, economically but also otherwise, with China.
Instrumental in this development is the Belt and Road Initiative, which China has used to develop infrastructure in the region, designed to facilitate its own trade, but also the trade of the countries that it has assisted. Abeyagoonasekera is clear throughout the book that the initiative has been of great assistance to the recipient countries, and contests vigorously the Western claim that it was designed as a debt trap to control those countries.
I fully endorse this view. To supplement his perspective with a couple of anecdotes, I recall a British friend in Cambodia telling me how the country had benefited from Chinese support, which developed infrastructure – whereas the West in those days concentrated on what it called capacity building, which meant supporting those who shared its views through endless seminars in expensive hotels, a practice with which we are familiar in this country too.
Soon afterwards I met a very articulate taxi driver in Ethiopia, who had come home from England, where he had worked for many years, who described the expansion of its road network. This had been neglected for years, until the Chinese turned up. I remembered then a Dutchman at a conference talking about the sinister nature of a plane full of Chinese businessmen, to which an African responded in irritation that the West had applauded the plunder of the continent by their own businessmen, and that the Africans now knew better and could ensure some benefit to themselves as the owners of the commodities the West had long thought their own birthright.
Abeyagoonasekera contrasts with the Chinese approach the frugality of the Indians, a frugality born of relative poverty, and appends the general suspicions with which Indian interventions are treated, given previous efforts at domination. And while he is himself markedly diplomatic in his accounts of the different approaches of the three players in this game, time and time again he notes the effortless ease with which the Chinese have begun to dominate the field.
His research has been thorough, and the statistics he cites about trade make clear that the Chinese are streets ahead of the other two, both in terms of balances as well as in absolute terms. And he notes too that, whereas the Western discourse is of Chinese restrictions on freedom, in Sri Lanka at any rate it is the others who are wary of transparency.
Though he notes that there is no clarity about the agreements the current government has entered into with the Indians, and that contrary to what might have been expected from former Marxists it has not resumed the tilt towards China of earlier left wing regimes, he shows that there has been no break with China. He seems to believe that the groundwork China laid still gives hope of more economic development than what the other two countries have to offer.
We cannot after all forget that the Rajapaksa government first asked India to develop the Hambantota port, and I still recall the Indian High Commissioner at the time, Ashok Kantha, wondering whether India had erred in not taking up the offer. In a marked example of how individuals affect bilateral relations, I have no doubt his predecessor, the effusive Alok Prasad, would have taken up the offer.
It was Rajapaksa hubris that made the cost of the port escalate, for when the rock inside the breakwaters was discovered, before the harbour was filled, and Mahinda Rajapaksa was told it would not cost much to get rid of it, he preferred to have the opening on his birthday as scheduled, which meant the waters then had to be drained away for the rock to be dynamited. And unfortunately, planning being left to the younger brother, we had grandiose buildings in the town, instead of the infrastructure that would have ensured greater economic activity.
This error was repeated in spades with regard to Mattala. Though not in the right place, which was not the case with the Hambantota development, nothing was done to take advantage of the location such as it was and institute swift connections with the hill country, the East Coast, and the wildlife so abundant in the area.
The last section of the book, after its thorough examination of the activities of the three major players in the region as a whole, deals with Sri Lanka’s Domestic Political Challenges, and records, politely but incisively, the endless blunders that have brought us lower and lower. But while highlighting the callousness of politicians, he also notes how efforts to appease the West weakened what he describes as core protections.
Though there has been much speculation about what exactly brought down Gotabaya Rajapaksa – not his government, for that in essence continued, with a different leader – perhaps the most far-reaching revelation in Abeyagoonasekera’s book is of Gotabaya’s conviction that it was the CIA that destroyed him. As so often when the hidden hand of the West is identified, the local contributions are ignored, as Gotabaya’s absurd energy policy, and the ridiculous tax concessions with which his rule began. But that does not mean there were no other players in the game.
Ironically, Gotabaya’s accusations against the United States occur after a startling passage in which Abeyagoonasekera declares of that country that ‘The fatigue gripping the nation is deeper than weariness; it is a spiritual exhaustion, a slow erosion of belief. Rising prices, policy paralysis, and a fractured foreign policy have left America adrift. Inflation haunts them like a spectre, while the immigrant crisis stirs frustrations in communities already stretched to their limits’.
This he claims explains the re-emergence of Donald Trump. Now, in the midst of the horrors Trump has perpetrated, this passage suggests that he is desperate to assert himself in denial of the fatigue that has overcome a nation initially built on idealism, now in the throes of ruthless cynicism. What will follow I do not know. But the manner in which India’s slavishness to the bullying of Netanyahu and Trump has destroyed the moral stature it once had suggests that Abeyagoonasekera’s nuanced but definite adulation of Chinese policy will be a hallmark of the new world order.
By Rajiva Wijesinha
Features
Human–Elephant conflict in Sri Lanka
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka results in significant loss of human life, elephant deaths, and extensive damage to crops and property. Despite numerous interventions over the decades, the situation continues to deteriorate. The reasons for the breakdown of what was once a relatively tolerant coexistence—albeit one dominated by humans—into an increasingly confrontational relationship must be clearly understood by both the public and policymakers. Immediate measures are required to minimise losses, alongside long-term solutions grounded in sound ecological and governance principles. It must also be recognised that this is a complex problem; effective mitigation and sustainable solutions require a multidisciplinary approach integrated into the country’s overall development planning. This article examines several cost-effective methods that have been successfully implemented in other countries and may apply to the Sri Lankan context.
Key Challenge: Lack of Reliable Data
The primary reason for the escalation of human–elephant conflict (HEC) is the shrinking of wildlife habitats in the country due to poorly planned development and uncontrolled, unwise land encroachment. A major barrier to effective intervention is the lack of accurate and comprehensive data in two key areas: (a) land and land utilisation, and (b) the elephant population and their range.
It became evident after the Ditwah cyclone disaster that the lack of readily accessible, reliable data on land and its use, is a major obstacle to a wide range of project planning and implementation efforts. Regardless of how HEC is mitigated, the government must take immediate action to establish a digital land-use database, as this is a key component of long-term planning for any development initiative. Using modern aerial mapping technologies, it should be possible to catalogue the geography and utilisation of every square metre of the island’s landmass.
Similarly, accurate data on the number of elephants, their age and gender distribution, and the extent of their habitat range, are essential for data-driven decision-making. Here, too, modern technology offers practical solutions. Land-based digital cameras have been successfully used to count elephants, identify individual animals, and monitor their range. Research has shown that the pigmentation patterns of Asian elephants—particularly those on their ears—can serve as a “fingerprint” for identifying individuals. The same technique can also be used to study elephant movement patterns and habitat range. Computer programmes already exist for such cataloguing purposes; however, developing a similar programme, locally, could be both economical and educational, for example, as part of a university IT programme. Since data-driven decision-making is key to the success of any long-term strategy, data collection must begin immediately while short-term mitigation measures are implemented.
Root cause
There must be a general understanding of how this problem has worsened. Sri Lanka is considered an anomaly in island biogeography for supporting a high density of megafauna—including Asian elephants, leopards, and sloth bears—on a relatively small landmass of about 65,000 square kilometres. This is further complicated by the country’s high human population density, estimated at about 356–372 people per square kilometre, ranking among the highest in the world. The human population has increased more than fivefold between 1900 and 2024, from about 4.5 million to nearly 22 million.
The corresponding expansion of land use for human settlement, agriculture, and infrastructure development has placed enormous pressure on wildlife habitats. Habitat loss, together with imbalances in predator populations, has resulted not only in escalating human–elephant conflict (HEC) but also in increasing crop damage caused by peacocks, monkeys, giant squirrels, and feral pigs. The Sri Lankan elephant has no natural predators; its only significant threat arises from human activities. Restoring balance within this complex ecological system is no easy task, yet it must remain the long-term objective if the country is to safeguard its unique biodiversity.
Short-term Measures
Since the current situation has developed over an extended period, practical and humane solutions will also take time to implement. In the short term, several interventions can reduce direct interactions between humans and elephants while ensuring the safety of both:
* Strict prohibition of roadside feeding and improved waste management.
* Public education on safe deterrence methods and the promotion of ethical and sustainable practices in forests, national parks, and sanctuaries.
* The use of proven, non-lethal deterrent methods implemented in a coordinated and systematic manner.
* Anti-depredation squads (ADS): well-trained response teams tasked with implementing and monitoring these measures.
* The use of AI-based technologies to prevent train–elephant collisions.
Several countries have successfully used chilli as a deterrent to keep elephants away from farms and settlements. While cultivating chilli as a crop may contribute to this effort, it alone is not an effective deterrent; the pungent compounds in chilli, which act as an irritant to elephants, must be delivered effectively. One widely used and economical method is chilli-grease fencing, an alternative to electric fencing. In this method, rags soaked in a mixture of ground chilli and used motor oil are hung from ropes in strategic locations to create a deterrent barrier.
More advanced deterrence techniques have also been tested. For example, compressed-air launchers that fire chilli-filled projectiles have demonstrated effectiveness in safely redirecting elephants from a distance without causing harm. In some countries, locally made projectiles containing chilli powder, sand, and firecrackers enclosed in flexible sheaths, such as rubber balloons, are ignited and launched ahead of approaching animals. When combined with strobe lights, air horns, or other noise-making devices, these methods have been found to be even more effective. Over time, elephants may learn to associate irritation with light and sound, allowing these signals alone to act as deterrents. The main limitation of this approach is the need for well-trained personnel available throughout the day. Therefore, the involvement of existing national services—such as the armed forces—in developing and implementing such systems should be considered.
Technology can also play an important role in reducing train–elephant collisions. Night-vision cameras mounted on trains, combined with artificial intelligence, could be used not only to detect elephants but also to identify patterns in elephant movements near railway tracks. Once such high-risk locations are mapped, additional cameras could be installed along the tracks to transmit warning signals to approaching trains when elephants are detected nearby. As a further step, this system could be integrated with the Driver’s Safety Device (DSD)—the “dead man’s” handle or pedal—so that trains can be automatically stopped when elephants are detected on or near the tracks, thereby reducing reliance solely on driver response.
Sustainable Long-Term Solutions
A lasting resolution depends on strategic land-use planning and coexistence-based management. This must form part of a broader national discussion on the sustainable use of the country’s limited land resources.
* Protection and restoration of elephant migration corridors.
* Data-driven placement and maintenance of fencing, rather than attempting to confine elephants within fixed areas.
* Strengthened management of wildlife reserves, including the prevention of human encroachment and uncontrolled cattle grazing.
* Habitat improvement within forests to reduce the attraction of elephants to agricultural lands.
* Introduction of drought-resistant grass varieties such as Cenchrus purpureus (commonly known as elephant grass or Napier grass) and Pennisetum purpureum in wildlife refuges and national parks to alleviate food shortages during the dry season.
* Population control measures, including vaccine-based methods, supported by reliable population data.
Public education on the importance of maintaining ecological balance—especially amid environmental change and expanding economic development—must also be a key priority. Basic principles of environmental management should be incorporated into higher education across all disciplines. At the same time, difficult but necessary questions must be asked about the long-term sustainability and economic return of certain land-use patterns, particularly those shaped during the colonial period for plantation crops. Inefficient agricultural practices, such as chena cultivation, should be phased out, and the clearing of wilderness—especially in ecologically sensitive highland areas for tourism development—must be strictly regulated.
Elephants typically travel between 15 and 50 kilometres a day. Therefore, restoring uninterrupted elephant corridors, linking existing wildlife reserves, must be a central component of long-term planning. In some cases, this may require carefully considering the relocation of human settlements that have developed within former elephant corridors.
Unfortunately, rural communities often bear a disproportionate share of the burden created by these conservation measures. It is, therefore, essential that policies ensure they receive a fair share of the economic benefits generated by wildlife-based industries, particularly tourism. Such policies should aim to help these communities transition from subsistence livelihoods toward improved standards of living. In this context, a critical evaluation of existing agricultural systems must form part of a broader national land-management strategy. Put plainly, the long-term viability of plantation industries, such as tea and rubber, should be assessed in terms of their return on investment—particularly the investment of scarce land resources.
Finally, all ecosystems have a carrying capacity, meaning there is a limit to the number of people and animals that a given area of land can sustain. This issue extends beyond Sri Lanka; many scientists argue that, given current levels of malnutrition and resource depletion, the planet may already have exceeded its sustainable carrying capacity. Others suggest that technological advances and lifestyle changes may increase that capacity. In either case, significant changes in human consumption patterns and lifestyles are likely to become inevitable.
For elephants, however, the absence of natural predators means that humane human intervention may be required to manage population growth sustainably. If elephant populations were allowed to increase unchecked, food scarcity could lead to malnutrition and starvation among the animals themselves. At the same time, a nation, already struggling with child malnutrition, must carefully balance its limited resources between human welfare and wildlife conservation.
One promising approach is immunological sterilisation using the Porcine Zona Pellucida (PZP) vaccine, a reversible and humane form of immunocontraception used in wildlife population management. By stimulating antibodies that prevent sperm from fertilising eggs, this dart-delivered vaccine controls reproduction without significantly altering the animals’ natural behaviour. Once accurate data are obtained on the age and gender distribution of the Sri Lankan elephant population, the systematic application of such methods could become feasible.
Moreover, the development of local capacity to produce such vaccines should be encouraged. Similar technologies could also be applied to manage populations of other animals—such as monkeys and stray dogs—whose numbers can become problematic if left unchecked. Local vaccine production would not only address domestic needs but could potentially create opportunities for export and scientific collaboration.
Conclusion
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka is intensifying due to habitat fragmentation, unplanned development, and weak governance. Elephants require large, connected landscapes to survive, and when traditional migration corridors are blocked, conflict becomes inevitable.
Current ineffective practices—such as the mass translocation of elephants, fragmented fencing that obstructs migration routes, and policies that overlook the livelihoods of rural communities—must be reconsidered and replaced with more effective strategies. Mechanisms must also be established to ensure that the economic benefits of environmental protection, particularly those generated by wildlife tourism, are fairly shared with rural populations who bear the greatest burden of living alongside wildlife.
A shift toward data-driven planning, protection of ecological corridors, community partnerships, and stronger institutional accountability is essential. The human–elephant conflict is not solely a wildlife issue; it is fundamentally a land-use and governance challenge. Sri Lanka would benefit from establishing a dedicated Human–Elephant Coexistence Organisation, or from strengthening an existing Wildlife Commission with the authority and capacity to implement long-term, science-based management strategies.
With informed policies and genuine support for affected communities, peaceful coexistence between humans and elephants is both achievable and sustainable. Ultimately, educating future generations and equipping them to face emerging environmental challenges with knowledge and responsibility is the most effective long-term strategy.
BY Geewananda Gunawardana and Chula Goonasekera
on behalf of LEADS forum
Email admin@srilankaleads.com
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