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Another Sketch of 1971 Events

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by ACB Pethiyagoda

Mr. Gamini Gunawardena’s appreciation of the late Inspector General of Police, Stanley Senanayake, in The Sunday Island recently brought to my mind personal ‘Random Sketches of Events in Contemporary History’ (the subtitle of GG’s article).

To start at the very beginning I had the pleasure of meeting the elegant Stanley in the mid 1950s at a mutual friend’s home in Kalutara when he, Stanley, was Director of the Police Training School. The friend and his family migrated; we went our separate ways according to the dictates of our employment; and out of the blues I had, in late 1971, an official note from the Inspector General of Police together with a personal note appended. Its tone and contents spoke volumes for Mr. Stanley Senanayake’s geniality.

Toward the end of 1970 and very early the next year, JVP activity was not that evident in the upcountry plantation areas except for some scribbling on walls of public buildings. However, a general build up of their activity in other parts of the country, except in the North, was reported in the newspapers, making one and all sit up and expect an impending flare up — when, where and in what form was anybody’s guess.

The guesses were as many as the expressions of admiration of Rohana Wijeweera’a ability to hold a crowd captive at his public meetings, whether they agreed with his ideologies or not.

Early in 1971 a real jolt was felt by me when driving back to work very early of a Monday morning after a weekend out; a group of four on the road was discerned in the dim light partly hidden by a roadside tree between Ginigathena and Hatton. They appeared to be khaki clad. While realizing this as strange, I noticed one stepping forward and signaling me to stop.

Without so much as a pause to think, I sped away and stopped only outside the Hatton Police Station. The scary incident was related to the OIC who said there were no police patrols at that time on that stretch of road. After an entry was made, I proceeded to Mayfield Estate where I was Superintendent at the time.

Night travel was given up; serious thought given to contingency plans in the event of possible disturbances and consequent disruption of work on the estate. Safety and food supply to about 1,000 workers with a total population of around 6,000 was the sole responsibility of the superintendent.

Although friends and fellow managers discussed this tense situation there is no recollection of any announcements or advice from government departments or the Planters’ Association. It was on account of this apparent lack of preparedness that when the JVP attacked several police stations on the night of April 5, 1971, the entire country, except the Northern and Eastern Provinces, was jolted and galvanized into action —even to the extent of appealing to India and Pakistan for help.

Action as far as the upcountry plantation sector was concerned for about the first day and a half was a collective wringing of hands faced with the enormity of the anticipated problem. In addition to safety and continued food supply, the scarcity of liquid fuel would result in the cessation of manufacture and extended stoppage of work. These were too frightening to even consider at that early stage of the possible conflagration. Another consideration was the safety of buildings — factory, stores, offices, bungalows, dwellings of workers, vehicles, which were then not covered against riot and civil commotion.

Newspapers and mail ceased to arrive. With no TV and radio and signals from Colombo not being received by those beautiful contraptions known as radiograms (radio and record player of different rpms in one unit), we were starved of news. Telephones which at the best of times functioned only off and on, were permanently off. When calls to Colombo and other outstations were booked, the operators, if any of them had reported for work, declared lines were out of order.

We were thus cut off and left to fend for ourselves. In this situation, about seven of us superintendents of neighbouring estates met to form a mutual help club. The Europeans backed out on the excuse their embassies had advised them to keep their hands off local politics. They could not, or did not want to differentiate between politics and strategy for survival under difficult circumstances by sharing available resources.

Hence, the four Sri Lankan superintendents decided to band together to face the common problem as best as they could. I write entirely from memory, so inaccuracies are possible, though not probable.

Labour union leaders on each estate were summoned by the respective superintendents and made aware of the prevalent situation.

They readily agreed to conserve food stocks in hand and not demand more than the rationed quota of rice and flour for a week issued by government until fresh stocks arrived. When? There was no answer to that question. As for security they agreed to an unofficial curfew- workers nor their family members would be allowed to wander around after dark outside their quarters; and strangers apprehended forthwith.

A day or two after the first attacks on police stations, news seeped through that the Nanu Oya Police Station had been abandoned. The station serving Mayfield and some surrounding estates and villages was at Patana on the Talawakelle-Nawalapitiya road. One of the cooperating superintendents and I rushed there early in the morning to find the sergeant in charge preparing to lock up and decamp with his three constables, without a semblance of authority from his superiors.

Reasons for this intended dereliction of duty which could result in their dismissal from service was that four men could not perform duties day and night with the possibility of attack by the insurgents. The station had only two kerosene lamps and two hurricane lanterns for lighting and there was no fence round the building, leaving the entire premises vulnerable to attack. These shortcomings had been reported to inspecting officers but to no avail.

After some discussion a deal was struck: three of us planters would guard the station in the nights while the policemen could rest after day duty, the ancient bolt action rifles and ammunition being handed over to us. As for lighting, by nightfall that day the station had electric lights with power tapped from Craigie Lee tea factory just across the road.

The fence was completed the next day with barbed wire from the stores of the concerned superintendents. Mention must be made here that superintendents of reputed companies in those times had a great deal of discretionary powers and such powers were hardly ever misused. The day after the gentlemen’s agreement, at least three planters assumed guard duty at the station every night – one in the building and two in a hillock behind.

In spite of our inexperience in this type of work and constant fear that we could be attacked, there was a feeling of bonhomie as we knew we were performing a duty by the people of the area, our families, shareholders and employees. We had no doubt that they would appreciate our sense of responsibility, and they certainly did.

Conditions seemed to be changing for the better for the country in the news that came down the grapevine. Large numbers of insurgents were giving themselves up or had been arrested. Evidence of this was seen at the small Patana Police Station in the backwoods when cells filled with the overflow from the Hatton Police Station were brought in.

The young men were in pitiable condition, physically and mentally due to exposure – hiding in the wildernesses for several days and the trauma of arrest and possibility of being beaten up as well. Conversations (certainly not interrogation – that was for the police) revealed that these men were highly motivated and committed and had undergone tremendous personal hardships for long periods of time for the Movement, and even after capture would not decry the road they had taken to rectify the actual and perceived social injustices prevalent in the country. Such loyalty to an ideology was to be admired and sympathized with, had it not been violent. Sacrifices made by them would not lead to their Utopia.

Giving my name and the estate I was managing to one of them, I asked whether I was on their rumoured hit list. He replied that he knew of me and where I worked as he was a teacher in the Agrapatana area and said that I would have been spared as I was not a hora. Thanks to all the gods above, I intoned!

Asked whether they would uproot all tea and plant bathala, he replied: “Yes.” Such planting would be in areas where tea lands bordered habitations which the British had plundered, leaving the displaced villages landless and in poverty. Food for thought that day and even now forty years later.

During the first few days of April’ 71, our homes were also very tense. With no communication with the outside world, foodstuffs unreplenished, constant fear of attacks, we felt marooned. Some relief was felt when two other superintendents’ young families came over to stay with us, bringing their provisions as well. There was a welcome sense of security in numbers — however small.

By the third week of April conditions were fast returning to normal. One evening returning home from work, I found the ASP Hatton at the entrance with two fully armed policemen. Heavens! Am I being arrested for something untoward at Patana? Such fears were soon dispelled when the officer walked up, thrust his hand to shake mine while thanking me for assisting his men and him.

Some months later, the government’s letter of appreciation for the support given to it during the insurgency, signed by the IGP, was received. It was good to have such a letter — the first of its kind —because letters from government always contain some unwelcome message or call for payment. Better still was the personal note from Stanley Senanayake recalling our meetings a decade and half earlier.



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Tusker Kavantissa’s death exposes Sri Lanka’s wildlife conservation crisis

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Kavantissa

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.

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Equality before the Law as foundation of Sri Lanka’s recovery

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Gnanasara Thera brought to court, dressed in lay attire

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.

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Lure of old hometown too hard to resist

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Highly adaptive one-man band / At Broadway Dehiwela on 24th October

Lanka was his homeland, and now it’s Australia, based in Sydney. But for legendary performer Roger Menezes, the lure of his old hometown is just too hard to resist — and he keeps coming this way, ever so often!

Roger is in town at the moment — his fourth trip for this year alone! In fact, for the last few years, he has been checking out Sri Lanka on a very frequent basis.

This time, he says, he will be here for just two weeks, as he has heavy commitments, Down Under, as a performer.

On the 24th of this month, he will be seen in action at Broadway Dehiwela, celebrating their second anniversary. It’s a homecoming of sorts, as he was the very first artiste to perform live at this venue, on their opening night!

He goes back to Sydney in November for an early Christmas party, and will be back, in Colombo, in December, for more performances, with a pre-New Year’s Eve party at the Broadway, on 30th December.

Roger says he also takes the opportunity, whenever he visits Sri Lanka, to soak in the beauty of our country, especially the serene scenes away from the hustle and bustle of Colombo!

Roger Menezes: Fourth trip for this year

Roger Menezes is truly a remarkable talent, and it is always a sheer pleasure to look into the careers of musicians who have left such a lasting, indelible mark on Sri Lanka’s rich musical heritage.

Known for his signature “hits and memories” performance style — a nostalgic, heart-warming blend of jazz, pop, and classic rock — he remains a foundational figure of Sri Lanka’s golden era of music.

He was deeply integrated into Colombo’s swinging 1960s and 70s music scene.

He played drums for iconic groups like The Savages, Thunderbirds, and Fireflies, played guitar for Sam the Man, and joined the legendary band The Jetliners as their keyboardist, saxophonist, and guitarist (additionally recording bass guitar tracks). He also fronted his own much-loved ensemble, Roger and the Webs.

He migrated to Sydney, Australia, in the early ’70s and the legend only grew.

In Australia, he founded the highly successful corporate and event bands Eastern Spice and Stay Tuned (alongside his wife Cheryl and family). Under his leadership, Stay Tuned was heavily involved in providing entertainment for corporate functions, organised by the Sydney 2000 Olympic Committee. The group also headlined the New Year’s Eve festivities at Sydney’s iconic Centrepoint Tower for five consecutive years!

Today, he is widely celebrated as a highly adaptive one-man band, simultaneously navigating vocals, keyboards, guitar, saxophone, and drums — a one-man orchestra who truly does it all!

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