Features

Early employment and the move to Colombo

Published

9 months ago

2025/06/22

CHAPTER 6

The 1920s in Sri Lanka was a period of excitement and change. Politically there was significant movement after many decades of stagnation… [S]ocially… there were breaches in traditional hierarchies and practices. Some… who in earlier times had little say in society for class and caste reasons, achieved high status positions… and middleclass women shocked the orthodox.

(de Alwis & Jayawardena, 2001, pp.1 & 5)

An Uncertain Future

After leaving St. Aloysius’, NU seemed to be uncertain about his future, and initially applied for a job as a teacher:

When I was 16, in 1924, I did not know what to do and I thought the best thing would be to teach. My father had come at this time to Tangalle, which is our ancestral home. I stayed with my parents after leaving school and I decided to apply for a teaching post at the same school [St. Mary’s] in which I had my education. (interview by Manel Abhayaratne)

NU’s application was accepted and he was hired. However, since NU was underage, he could not be registered and his salary was paid out of the principal’s own pocket. NU stayed with his uncle who was working in the Hambantota Kachcheri. NU still did not give up his desire to study:

I wanted to pursue my studies but I wanted to do it by studying by myself. There was a series of books advertised by a London tutorial college and I decided to get them down and study to further my qualifications. (ibid)

According to NU, his father was anxious that he join the public service and follow in the footsteps of his uncle (who was later appointed Kachcheri Mudaliyar of the Hambantota Kachcheri); and it

was due to his father’s persuasion that he applied for the post of clerk in the District Roads Committee (DRC). NU further explained the events leading to his entry into the clerical service:

Mr. Frank Leach, Assistant Government Agent, had set the qualifying papers. We all handed over the papers and went back. About a month later I learned that I had answered the papers very well and had got pass marks, but pressure had been brought on the Assistant Government Agent, to recommend someone else who was a relation of the then Mudaliyar. (ibid)

The final decision, however, rested with the Government Agent himself, Mr. Millington, who insisted that the man who had obtained the best results in the examination, NU, should be appointed

to the DRC at a salary of Rs. 27.50 a month. Incidentally, this salary was significantly less than the Rs. 40 he received when teaching at St. Mary’s.

This was perhaps the first occasion when NU came face to face with social realities and favouritism in the system, which could on occasion ignore merit and reward social position. Thus began NU’s

career, which was to take him first, up and down the Southern Province in various posts, and finally, to join the Ruhuna diaspora in Colombo. The District Roads Committee was set up in 1862 to oversee the construction and maintenance of minor roads. It was funded with one third of the money collected from the Road Tax. Committees were set up in each district, and each consisted of the Government Agent or Assistant Government Agent of the district and the District Engineer, along with three other elected members from the European, Burgher or other ‘native’ communities. Significantly, the DRC was the first local body to follow the elective principle (Saparamadu, in Woolf, 1962, p.1xiii-iv).

Back to School

As mentioned above, NU was not particularly interested in applying for the job at the DRC and did so only at his father’s insistence. He soon tired of this minor post, and against his father’s wishes took up a teaching position at his old school, St. Servatius’ College, Matara. NU lodged at the school catechist’s home in the Fort, Matara – as he had done earlier when a student there. He coached the catechist’s son and, to please his father, prepared both for the Clerical Service and Matriculation examinations.

NU soon moved on from St. Servatius’ when a job opportunity opened up at the leading Buddhist boys’ school in the Southern Province – Mahinda College, Galle. To reach the school, NU had to

again travel daily by train, and as in the past, he continued to use the train and the station waiting room as his ‘study.’ He had to take the early train to reach Galle from Matara, and for the return journey:

“He would reach Matara station in the dark, settle down in the Third-Class waiting room and study by the dim light from the oil lamp which hung down from a beam in the room” (de Zoysa manuscript, p.59).

NU also studied while ‘on the move,’ as an amusing anecdote related by Lucien de Zoysa shows: “he used to read while walking after school, creating a stir among those walking on the [Matara]

ramparts when they saw a young man oblivious of all and everything except the open book in his hand.” As de Zoysa notes: “reading… [and] studying… [were] more than second nature to him. It was all of him and he spent every moment he could, studying for both the Matriculation and Clerical Service examinations” (de Zoysa manuscript, pp.57-58).The principal of Mahinda at that time was P.R. Gunasekara, who had succeeded the earlier distinguished foreign principals.

The school, founded by the Buddhist Theosophical Society, was initially funded by Thomas de Silva Amarasuriya and his son Henry Woodward Amarasuriya, both important plantation-owners, businessmen and liquor merchants from the Southern Province. In Mahinda College two tendencies prevailed, namely, dedication to Buddhist causes and local history and culture, along with a modern education in English. Two foreign principals of the school had also set the tone for liberal political awareness. The first was the Theosophist F.L. Woodward, an Oxford-educated Pali scholar who had translated

sections of the Pali Canon, and who was closely associated with Colonel Olcott. He was the founding Principal of the College, serving from 1903 to 1919. The second, Gordon Pearce who served as Woodward’s Vice-Principal, was also a Theosophist and British Labour Party supporter, who became Principal in 1921.

In contrast to Christian schools, Buddhist schools such as Mahinda College encouraged a national awareness and exposed students to Indian nationalism. In 1922 visitors to the school included persons linked to the Indian independence movement, such as Rabindranath Tagore, Sarojini Naidu, Rev. C.H. Andrews (a British supporter of Gandhi), and Annie Besant, a leading Theosophist and advocate of Indian Home Rule. Significantly, the sessions of the Ceylon National Congress were held at Mahinda College in 1926; and at the 1927 prize-giving, Mahatma Gandhi was the chief guest:

“The Olcott Hall was filled to capacity. Never was there such a large gathering of Buddhists, Hindus and Christians to pay homage”

(Norah Roberts, 1993, pp.154 & 156).

NU may have been present at some of these historic events. In his student days, NU had moved from Hambantota to Matara and then to Galle. The process was reversed after he passed his Senior

Cambridge and began his career, when he first moved back to Hambantota, then to Matara and Galle. There was thus some mobility in NU’s life at this stage, with his progression from school to school and job to job, although limited to the Southern Province.

In the process, both at St. Aloysius’ and Mahinda College, NU was fortunate to have interacted with excellent teachers. They were men of dedication and generosity, some famous scholars, some politically committed to an anti-colonial agenda.

Early Days in Colombo

In 1926, NU also passed the London Matriculation (in the First Division) as a private student, passing in Mathematics, which he had failed at the Senior Cambridge. Another important event in

his life was his success at the General Clerical Services Examination in 1926, followed by his posting to the Public Works Department (PWD) in Colombo as a Class 2 clerk on a monthly salary of Rs.75. Getting into the Class 2 category was a significant advance from which NU never looked back. His father was so pleased he gave NU a 50-rupee note. According to family folklore, NU looked at it and pointed to the note’s signature of W.W. Woods, the Colonial Secretary, and asked,

“Why can’t I sign a note like this?” – thereby provoking much amusement in his family.

The PWD, formed in 1867, consisting of a director and provincial engineers, was responsible for construction and maintenance of government-constructed buildings, roads, ferries, and resthouses

(Woolf, 1962, p.lxxi). Until the early 1930s, the top administrators and executives, who ran the various government departments, were almost exclusively British; while the essential routine work in the office was handled by local clerks who were hierarchically just above peons (now called ‘minor employees’), performing the lowliest work in the offices. As noted earlier, to become a clerk in the government service was the main ambition of most young men whose parents were neither professionals, wealthy businessmen nor large landowners. NU, when he passed his clerical examination, had achieved the aspirations of many families from his background, namely to have a family member in the prestigious government service, which would elevate the family’s social standing.

NU had been to Colombo only twice before, to sit examinations, staying in one of Maradana’s cheap lodging-houses for young workingmen, known as ‘chummeries.’ On his move to Colombo as a clerk in the Public Works Department, he worked at its head office in the Fort, and lived in a ‘boarding house’ on Forbes Lane in Maradana, run by Dickman de Mel. The transport between Maradana and Fort was by tramway or train.

NU gave tuition to de Mel’s nephews in exchange for lodging – a similar arrangement to what he had done when he stayed with the St. Servatius’ catechist. Released from paying for his lodgings in Colombo, NU was able to bring his youngest brother Peter to Colombo. NU, who held thwarted ambitions to be a doctor, was keen to see his brother enter the medical profession. Peter stayed at the boarding house, with NU paying his fees and enrolling him in the leading Catholic school, St. Joseph’s College, just near Forbes Lane. Later, Peter Jayawardena, benefiting from the education he received, entered the Medical College, later becoming a well-known gynaecologist and obstetrician.

In Sri Lanka, supporting family members has long been a tradition. It is expected and even taken for granted that family members, including those from the extended family, would assist and support each other – especially to help brighter children pursue their studies.

NU’s strong family ties and his willingness to assist his relations were evident at all times. NU, who himself continued to benefit from such family support in later years, managed, with assistance from his future father-in-law, Norman Wickramasinghe, to get his brother David a job in the Government Stores. NU also helped arrange marriages for his younger sisters and was always present at family weddings, often being the attesting witness for his nieces and nephews on such occasions. This was all part of the close family network. NU’s success in entering the clerical service enabled him to move

from minor jobs in the Southern Province, to the capital city. ‘Go West, Young Man!’ was a popular US slogan for ambitious settlers moving westwards to California in the 19th century. In Sri Lanka, in the early 20th century, ‘Go West’ meant moving to the Western Province – and to the city of Colombo.

Public Works Department

Colombo in the Late 1920s

There had been a rapid population growth in Colombo, which in 1911 had more than 200,000 inhabitants, an increase of 30% since 1901. Urbanization was fast occurring, with a drift from the countryside to the towns. Though the transfer was not large enough to alter the demographic balance, and the country remained overwhelmingly rural, urban centres expanded considerably. In the economy, these were years of boom in the mid-1920s, then a severe economic depression in the early 1930s. One important development of this period was the expanded infrastructure of roads, railways and port facilities, along with banks, shops, offices and government departments, typical of a colonial economy. This meant employing increasing numbers of manual workers and government servants at all levels, many of them – like NU – originally from the outlying provinces.

The move from Galle to Colombo would have been somewhat daunting for NU, as he was now very far from home, no longer within the secure confines of his family and relatives. At the same time, he would have felt a measure of excitement and expectation at being in the political and commercial capital of the island, where the local elite and the colonial establishment lived and worked, patronizing its restaurants, clubs and hotels. The city of Galle for all its charm could not be compared to the economic and social activity, excitement and bright lights of Colombo. From 1926 to 1929, NU eked out a living in Colombo as a clerk, living frugally in a poor neighbourhood, but observing the activities and life of the city in the heyday of the island’s economic prosperity of the 1920s. This period of NU’s residence in Colombo, however, was also an era of political and social change alongside emerging movements of dissent.

Politics in the 1920s

Politically there had been very little change before the 1920s. The legislature up to 1911 continued to be composed of European ‘officials’ and a few others known as ‘unofficials’ appointed by the Governor to represent the different local ethnic communities and business interests. A nationalist ferment was lacking, as radical political dissent and activism had subsided after the Rebellion of 1848. In 1864, however, a few Members of the Legislative Council, notably Charles Lorenz (whose family was from Matara), had led a vote of ‘unofficials’ against the government and subsequently walked out of the legislature. This group started the Ceylon League, to campaign

First Letter of Appointment as a clerk in the Public Works Department

for political reform.

While there was no mass-based political agitation in the 19^th century, some moderate political reform of the constitution was demanded by the emerging local political leaders. In 1919 the Ceylon National Congress was formed, with Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam as President, to press for more representation, wider franchise rights and an elected legislature. Under the Manning Reforms granted in 1920, a Legislative Council was established with elections on a limited (4%) male franchise. But although some further reforms were demanded, there was no agitation comparable to the militant nationalism that developed in India in the 1920s.

The nature of the local opposition to colonialism reflected a certain economic weakness. Local capitalism was based on accumulation in plantations, the liquor trade and graphite mining – areas where there were few confrontations with colonial interests. In contrast to India, there was no major clash with colonialism in the market place – the ‘school’ where, it is said, a bourgeoisie learns its nationalism. Although national feeling was not militant, communal tensions based on economic considerations arose. There was some criticism of the influence of Indian merchants, South Indian Chettiar moneylenders and other non-Sinhala traders, who by their extraterritorial

interests or economic domination, were seen as a threat to the Sinhala trader. Competition for the limited number of jobs in government service also led to some tension between Sinhalese and

Tamils in the public sector.

But dissent grew and there were some social upheavals. Members of many ‘lower’ castes entered politics and emerged as radical labour leaders, to the consternation of those belonging to ‘higher’ castes. Women also created a stir by agitating for the right to vote – led by the Women’s Franchise Union, formed in 1927. Universal suffrage – including votes for women – was obtained in 1931, and by 1932 there were two women in the legislature. The ‘new women’ of the period shocked traditional society.

They began to participate in politics, making demands for women’s franchise, and caused a sensation by driving cars, riding bicycles, wearing short skirts, bobbing their hair, socializing and dancing with men in public. They also entered University College, and moved into new avenues of employment, including the medical and legal professions (de Alwis & Jayawardena, 2001, p.5).

There was other excitement too. When NU came to Colombo in the mid-1920s, the Ceylon Labour Union led by A.E. Goonesinha was at the height of its popularity among Colombo’s workers.

A general strike in the government and private sectors had occurred in 1923, followed by militant strikes in the Colombo port (1927), tramways (1929), and numerous other places of work. The tramway strike was particularly aggressive, resulting in violence and the setting on fire of the Maradana police station, which led to a police shooting and five deaths. NU, whose lodgings were nearby, would have gazed on with amazement on the new phenomenon of working-class militancy.

This unprecedented agitation resulted in the formation of the Employers Federation (1929), leading to the first collective agreement with a labour union (1929) and the beginning of trade union legislation in Sri Lanka. During these years, NU was in government service and was therefore debarred from politics or trade-union activity. Thus, as he watched these events firsthand, even if he had any sympathies with the workers, he would have kept his views to himself.

NU’s Work Ethic

When NU started work as a clerical servant, he was determined to bring certain principles and practices into his work. No doubt the lessons on efficiency and excellence, which he had learned both in school and from his British bosses in the workplace, were crucial in his attitude to office routine. He was a conscientious worker, but more than that, he was anxious to formulate a system whereby the files he maintained would be kept orderly and comprehensive.

This characteristic of his to have everything in a tidy retrieval system was one that stood him in good stead in the furtherance of his career. It brought a certain discipline not only to the office, but also to his own work.

NU took pride in his work and did not want any superior officer to find fault with him, and did whatever was given to him with meticulous care. In fact, he often used to say that the guiding principle with regard to his work was that ‘he must do today what he could well do tomorrow.’ It was a principle that made him impatient with those who did not have his keen and cutting intelligence and his ability to remember things down to the last detail.

He never proffered excuses if he failed to do anything, and this again was a trait that affected his relationships with those who worked with him. NU worked hard and conscientiously, combining study with work. His great opportunity for social and financial advancement, however, came with his marriage in 1929.

(N.U. JAYAWARDENA The First Five Decades Chapter 5 can read online on https://island.lk/lure-of-govt-service/

(Excerpted from N.U. JAYAWARDENA The first five decades)
By Kumari Jayawardena and Jennifer Moragoda ✍️

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Features

Pay attention or pay the price: Sri Lanka’s maritime imperative in a fractured ocean

Published

16 hours ago

2026/03/9

Thilina Walpola

An AFP photo of people queuing up for LP gas in Colombo

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

Published

16 hours ago

2026/03/9

Thilina Walpola

Asanga Abeyagoonasekera

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

Published

16 hours ago

2026/03/9

Thilina Walpola

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.

Crossing a railroad in the North Central Province (File photo)

Wild elephant near an electric fence (File photo

Chilli-grease fence

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