Features
Anuradhapura Teaching Hospital – an encomium
To understand the strength of a fellow human being, you don’t have to enter a wrestling match; you only have to observe how the men and women in a hospital heal patients.
The following is the magnanimity of human nature explained in a nutshell. This story is not fiction or hearsay. These are compelling comments on humanity, bravery, strength, life, and sadly, death, I witnessed firsthand recently during my three-day stay in Ward 61 at the Anuradhapura Teaching Hospital for fever, chest pain, buildup of fluid in the space around my heart, and a few other problems. This hospital has been a medical outpost since its inception in the 1950s. However, after it became a teaching hospital, the whole institution gained wide recognition and gave new meaning to all things health in the region. It is the third largest hospital in Sri Lanka.
Now, its Wards are not just numbers; they distribute the highest brands of medical expertise. They are not your run-of-the-mill half-walled hospital Wards, but bursting with knowledge Hippocrates worked all his life to master.
Wards 61 and 62 are Professorial Wards served by devoted, brilliant men and women of the highest medical learning and authority. They make these places sacred by healing. Descendants of Dhanvantari (doctor to Devas) and Saint Sebastian (Saint of Medicine) take turns to walk the hallways here with stethoscopes dangling in their hands. White-crowned nurses attend and show kindness to patients as if they were their children.
I was in the High Dependency Unit (HDU) of Ward 61 with three other patients who were attached to electronic monitors, which provided nonstop beeping symphonies to my tired ears. Before long, I thought I was sitting in the orchestra pit of an opera house, where musicians were tuning their instruments before the start of the show. This whole time, my wife, Niranjala, the angel of angels, held my hand, helping me with soothing words to ease my pain and worries.
We watched nurses light up the Ward, walking among beds with purposeful and determined faces, talking and listening, offering soothing words to patients in various states of pain and suffering.
Meanwhile, inside the HDU, two young men wearing short-sleeved shirts and sarongs were standing by the beds of the two elderly patients, their fathers, who were in a sedated state. One father had ingested poison, and the other had advanced liver failure, a common health issue in the North Central province.
When I dozed off and woke up later in the middle of the night, a team of nurses gathered around one of these patients, holding various medical items in their raised hands. One was pushing an Artificial Manual Breathing Unit (AMBU) like the bellows at a smithy. Every so often, she wiped the sweat off her forehead. The patient’s son stood at a far corner, watching this determined group of strangers trying to save his father’s life. As this life’s drama unfolded, the other man held his father’s hand and watched in stunned and palsied silence.
We would never know the unfathomable weight of the hearts of the two men watching their fathers fight for their lives. That night, these young men were the two loneliest people on the planet.
At dawn, I saw the father they were trying to save lying alone on his bed, wrapped in blankets from head to toe. His overhead electronic screen had gone dark, and the tubing hanging lifeless above the headstand. Life had the rendezvous with its nemesis, and death won.
A few hours later, the son came to pick up his father’s items from the nurse. As we made eye contact, I nodded my heartfelt thoughts to him.
Doctor-fledglings ready to fly out
Next, as the Ward woke up, my eyes caught a heartening moment you would not see in any other work environment. A tall pedagogue, probably in his late 50s and athletic-looking, led a group of young men and women clad in deep, turquoise-shaded trousers and short-sleeved shirts. They earnestly listened to him while holding notebooks and stethoscopes on their bosoms.
With each step he takes, these young men and women, medical students at the Rajarata University Medical School, follow suit in unison. The tall figure with crew-cut hair is Professor of Medicine, Sisira Siribaddana, a giant of a man of academic standing. He has crossed oceans of medical expertise. Teaching students and treating patients are two inevitably tough propositions. He is one of the busiest doctors/teachers around here. But his articulation was appealing and mesmerized the students, who watched as if they were listening to a Himalayan Irshi.
The students followed the professor through the Ward like a flock of goslings following the mother goose who led them to shore.
Little did they know, soon they would be on their own. They will not have the pleasure of flying in formation like a skein on holidays and on outings on weekends you and I take for granted. They will become fully-fledged lifesavers, often sleeping in converted staff rooms in the hospital while on call or floating alone in turbulent spells of medical winter blizzards.
Amid their study sessions, these fledgling doctors also return to continue looking after the patients late into the night. Time of day is not an issue for them. They are cued by impeccable dedication to patients and show superlative energy for observing and learning, embodying the demands and responsibilities of the job they will soon be charged with outside the comfort under the eyes of the professors.
Even after going home this time around, the patients know that whatever future ailments they will get, they are in good hands. What these medical students try to learn is all under our skin – unseen, entwined with hundreds of potential disorders in the limitless and complex miracle we call our all-scented and well-groomed bodies. Unlike engineers who rarely touch water for fear of electrocution, these students read and interpret blood and other body fluids. They study what boils under our skin. They count the pulse because it matters to them as much as to their patients. These future doctors become so good at what they do that by the time we, the patients, are ready to go home, they have seen through us enough to write our biographies by heart.
Tutored by a cognoscente of Jeewaka pedigree, they will do just fine because they are also the cream of the cream and earned the right and honour to follow the footsteps of Siribaddana-class of great teachers. With the earnest look on their faces, we have nothing to fear. Professor Siribaddana and his academic colleagues will prepare them to hit the road to medical miracles like flashes of a just-offloaded fleet of Lexuses.
I am helpless searching for words to express my appreciation to Professor Sisira Siribaddana, Senior Professor and Chair of Medicine, Drs. Isuru Ahesh, Priyadharshan, Sampavi Ramanan in Ward 61, and Dr. Arulkumar Jegavanthan, one of the cardiologists in the hospital, for the excellent medical care they rendered to me.
Nurses and Other Staff
The nursing staff’s immaculate service furthers the doctors’ mission. Nurses and the minor staff are the other pieces of the backbone of this Ward. They hold this place together, preventing it from drifting into chaos. They encourage and offer kind words to dejected patients.
These nurses are in a marathon to win together. They are regular folks like you and me. They are fathers and mothers, often with two or three kids, constantly worrying about whether the kids came home from school or tuition classes and had dinner. I know it. My niece, Uditha, a nurse in this hospital, has two kids. While at work, I know how much she worries about her preschooler daughter and the 9-month-old son at home. Then there are young nurses just out of nursing school yearning for the time to be out with a cupid.
Patience in nurses is a remarkable science that somebody must teach in schools and public counters in government offices. Nursing vocabulary does not have the word “tiredness.” Never angry, never in haste, they exude unmatched professionalism and kindness. Those in other government offices must emulate the work ethic of these men and women. They are our Florence Nightingales. They are healers in our midst. Next time you see someone you know as a nurse standing on the bus or in a queue at the bank, get up and give her the seat or step aside and offer her the place in the line. She has earned every inch of that space much more than anyone in that place. If you fail to do it, I think you must seek counseling help.
Hospital Needs Immediate Attention.
Yet, some things here need immediate attention. The central air conditioning system of this multi-story building is out of commission for some time, and its lorry-sized condenser and compressor unit sit in the open garden, uncovered, lifeless, and decaying. Its inert ducts hang on the ceiling like fossilised long-necked dinosaurs. Some suspect that rat infestation has infiltrated the duct system. During this time of the year, the dry zone sun is on the job full force, and without working air conditioners, rooms are hot like incubators. Patients take the brunt of the heat punishment.
In contrast, what I found elsewhere a few weeks later completely flabbergasted me. I was in a 17-storey government building (not a hospital) in Battaramulla, near Colombo. In this building, the central air conditioning system worked flawlessly, so it felt like its ducts system drew air directly from the Arctic Circle.
Decaying Condenser and Compressor Units
Immediately after my discharge from the hospital, Niranjala and I asked Professor Siribaddana if there was anything we could donate to the Ward. Having experienced the intolerable heat firsthand, we discussed the inconvenience that patients go through due to a lack of air conditioning in the HDU. We got his consent to donate two air conditioning units for the HDU in Ward 61 and later to donate two more units to the HDU in its sister Ward 62, which hosts female patients. We are happy that the four LG 18000BTU air conditioning units we donated are now working, providing much-needed relief to critical patients housed in the HDUs. Sadly, this building has more Wards and units without air conditioning. I hope that by bringing this issue to light, relevant authorities will take immediate steps, or any benefactors out there will think of providing some relief.
Furthermore, hospital staff are taking proactive steps to improve the hospital’s working environment. For example, recently, after considering the safety and convenience of the doctors on call in the Wards, Professor Siribaddana and his colleagues in the two Wards purchased air conditioners with their own money and installed them in two rooms previously used for storage. They converted it into rooms for on-call doctors to stay overnight. Now, after work, the on-call doctors do not have to step outside into the dark, deserted streets tethered to predatory elements. The consultants in the Department coming out with a creative and indispensable gesture to resolve this dire situation is a noble act.
When Niranjala and I visited the library upstairs with Dr. Hemal Senanayake, the Head of the Department of Medicine, we walked past the 250-seat auditorium. There, we saw the seat covers of nearly all chairs torn away and the exposed cushion foam falling apart and dissolving into pieces. We hope the authorities fix this problem soon. Meanwhile, we heard a generous group recently equipped the auditorium with air conditioning facilities.
After I left the Ward, I returned to Ward 61 twice daily, a few times, to get my antibiotic through IV. By now, I have begun to miss the staff here. This is a government hospital. Its hallway walls may not have mounted George Keyts reproductions or framed pictures of cherubic babies with adoring smiles. But the weight and pains of ordinary people from all walks of life beautify its floors and corridors.
Actor Robin Williams, playing British/American neurologist Oliver Sacks in the 1990 movie Awakenings, declared, “The human spirit is more powerful than any other drug.” I found the doctors, nurses, and other minor staff in Wards 61 and 62 surely fostering this attribute, the cornerstone of any healing facility. Thus, I would not hesitate to return to Ward 61 for a second tour, because I trust these people with my life.
by Lokubanda Tillakaratne
Features
Rebuilding Sri Lanka Through Inclusive Governance
In the immediate aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah, the government has moved swiftly to establish a Presidential Task Force for Rebuilding Sri Lanka with a core committee to assess requirements, set priorities, allocate resources and raise and disburse funds. Public reaction, however, has focused on the committee’s problematic composition. All eleven committee members are men, and all non-government seats are held by business personalities with no known expertise in complex national development projects, disaster management and addressing the needs of vulnerable populations. They belong to the top echelon of Sri Lanka’s private sector which has been making extraordinary profits. The government has been urged by civil society groups to reconsider the role and purpose of this task force and reconstitute it to be more representative of the country and its multiple needs.
The group of high-powered businessmen initially appointed might greatly help mobilise funds from corporates and international donors, but this group may be ill equipped to determine priorities and oversee disbursement and spending. It would be necessary to separate fundraising, fund oversight and spending prioritisation, given the different capabilities and considerations required for each. International experience in post disaster recovery shows that inclusive and representative structures are more likely to produce outcomes that are equitable, efficient and publicly accepted. Civil society, for instance, brings knowledge rooted in communities, experience in working with vulnerable groups and a capacity to question assumptions that may otherwise go unchallenged.
A positive and important development is that the government has been responsive to these criticisms and has invited at least one civil society representative to join the Rebuilding Sri Lanka committee. This decision deserves to be taken seriously and responded to positively by civil society which needs to call for more representation rather than a single representative. Such a demand would reflect an understanding that rebuilding after a national disaster cannot be undertaken by the state and the business community alone. The inclusion of civil society will strengthen transparency and public confidence, particularly at a moment when trust in institutions remains fragile. While one appointment does not in itself ensure inclusive governance, it opens the door to a more participatory approach that needs to be expanded and institutionalised.
Costly Exclusions
Going down the road of history, the absence of inclusion in government policymaking has cost the country dearly. The exclusion of others, not of one’s own community or political party, started at the very dawn of Independence in 1948. The Father of the Nation, D S Senanayake, led his government to exclude the Malaiyaha Tamil community by depriving them of their citizenship rights. Eight years later, in 1956, the Oxford educated S W R D Bandaranaike effectively excluded the Tamil speaking people from the government by making Sinhala the sole official language. These early decisions normalised exclusion as a tool of governance rather than accommodation and paved the way for seven decades of political conflict and three decades of internal war.
Exclusion has also taken place virulently on a political party basis. Both of Sri Lanka’s post Independence constitutions were decided on by the government alone. The opposition political parties voted against the new constitutions of 1972 and 1977 because they had been excluded from participating in their design. The proposals they had made were not accepted. The basic law of the country was never forged by consensus. This legacy continues to shape adversarial politics and institutional fragility. The exclusion of other communities and political parties from decision making has led to frequent reversals of government policy. Whether in education or economic regulation or foreign policy, what one government has done the successor government has undone.
Sri Lanka’s poor performance in securing the foreign investment necessary for rapid economic growth can be attributed to this factor in the main. Policy instability is not simply an economic problem but a political one rooted in narrow ownership of power. In 2022, when the people went on to the streets to protest against the government and caused it to fall, they demanded system change in which their primary focus was corruption, which had reached very high levels both literally and figuratively. The focus on corruption, as being done by the government at present, has two beneficial impacts for the government. The first is that it ensures that a minimum of resources will be wasted so that the maximum may be used for the people’s welfare.
Second Benefit
The second benefit is that by focusing on the crime of corruption, the government can disable many leaders in the opposition. The more opposition leaders who are behind bars on charges of corruption, the less competition the government faces. Yet these gains do not substitute for the deeper requirement of inclusive governance. The present government seems to have identified corruption as the problem it will emphasise. However, reducing or eliminating corruption by itself is not going to lead to rapid economic development. Corruption is not the sole reason for the absence of economic growth. The most important factor in rapid economic growth is to have government policies that are not reversed every time a new government comes to power.
For Sri Lanka to make the transition to self-sustaining and rapid economic development, it is necessary that the economic policies followed today are not reversed tomorrow. The best way to ensure continuity of policy is to be inclusive in governance. Instead of excluding those in the opposition, the mainstream opposition in particular needs to be included. In terms of system change, the government has scored high with regard to corruption. There is a general feeling that corruption in the country is much reduced compared to the past. However, with regard to inclusion the government needs to demonstrate more commitment. This was evident in the initial choice of cabinet ministers, who were nearly all men from the majority ethnic community. Important committees it formed, including the Presidential Task Force for a Clean Sri Lanka and the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force, also failed at first to reflect the diversity of the country.
In a multi ethnic and multi religious society like Sri Lanka, inclusivity is not merely symbolic. It is essential for addressing diverse perspectives and fostering mutual understanding. It is important to have members of the Tamil, Muslim and other minority communities, and women who are 52 percent of the population, appointed to important decision making bodies, especially those tasked with national recovery. Without such representation, the risk is that the very communities most affected by the crisis will remain unheard, and old grievances will be reproduced in new forms. The invitation extended to civil society to participate in the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force is an important beginning. Whether it becomes a turning point will depend on whether the government chooses to make inclusion a principle of governance rather than treat it as a show of concession made under pressure.
by Jehan Perera
Features
Reservoir operation and flooding
Former Director General of Irrigation, G.T. Dharmasena, in an article, titled “Revival of Innovative systems for reservoir operation and flood forecasting” in The Island of 17 December, 2025, starts out by stating:
“Most reservoirs in Sri Lanka are agriculture and hydropower dominated. Reservoir operators are often unwilling to acknowledge the flood detention capability of major reservoirs during the onset of monsoons. Deviating from the traditional priority for food production and hydropower development, it is time to reorient the operational approach of major reservoirs operators under extreme events, where flood control becomes a vital function. While admitting that total elimination of flood impacts is not technically feasible, the impacts can be reduced by efficient operation of reservoirs and effective early warning systems”.
Addressing the question often raised by the public as to “Why is flooding more prominent downstream of reservoirs compared to the period before they were built,” Mr. Dharmasena cites the following instances: “For instance, why do (sic) Magama in Tissamaharama face floods threats after the construction of the massive Kirindi Oya reservoir? Similarly, why does Ambalantota flood after the construction of Udawalawe Reservoir? Furthermore, why is Molkawa, in the Kalutara District area, getting flooded so often after the construction of Kukule reservoir”?
“These situations exist in several other river basins, too. Engineers must, therefore, be mindful of the need to strictly control the operation of the reservoir gates by their field staff. (Since) “The actual field situation can sometimes deviate significantly from the theoretical technology… it is necessary to examine whether gate operators are strictly adhering to the operational guidelines, as gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”.
COMMENT
For Mr. Dharmasena to bring to the attention of the public that “gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”, is being disingenuous, after accepting flooding as a way of life for ALL major reservoirs for decades and not doing much about it. As far as the public is concerned, their expectation is that the Institution responsible for Reservoir Management should, not only develop the necessary guidelines to address flooding but also ensure that they are strictly administered by those responsible, without leaving it to the arbitrary discretion of field staff. This exercise should be reviewed annually after each monsoon, if lives are to be saved and livelihoods are to be sustained.
IMPACT of GATE OPERATION on FLOODING
According to Mr. Dhamasena, “Major reservoir spillways are designed for very high return periods… If the spillway gates are opened fully when reservoir is at full capacity, this can produce an artificial flood of a very large magnitude… Therefore, reservoir operators must be mindful in this regard to avoid any artificial flood creation” (Ibid). Continuing, he states: “In reality reservoir spillways are often designed for the sole safety of the reservoir structure, often compromising the safety of the downstream population. This design concept was promoted by foreign agencies in recent times to safeguard their investment for dams. Consequently, the discharge capacities of these spill gates significantly exceed the natural carrying capacity of river(s) downstream” (Ibid).
COMMENT
The design concept where priority is given to the “sole safety of the structure” that causes the discharge capacity of spill gates to “significantly exceed” the carrying capacity of the river is not limited to foreign agencies. Such concepts are also adopted by local designers as well, judging from the fact that flooding is accepted as an inevitable feature of reservoirs. Since design concepts in their current form lack concern for serious destructive consequences downstream and, therefore, unacceptable, it is imperative that the Government mandates that current design criteria are revisited as a critical part of the restoration programme.
CONNECTIVITY BETWEEN GATE OPENINGS and SAFETY MEASURES
It is only after the devastation of historic proportions left behind by Cyclone Ditwah that the Public is aware that major reservoirs are designed with spill gate openings to protect the safety of the structure without factoring in the consequences downstream, such as the safety of the population is an unacceptable proposition. The Institution or Institutions associated with the design have a responsibility not only to inform but also work together with Institutions such as Disaster Management and any others responsible for the consequences downstream, so that they could prepare for what is to follow.
Without working in isolation and without limiting it only to, informing related Institutions, the need is for Institutions that design reservoirs to work as a team with Forecasting and Disaster Management and develop operational frameworks that should be institutionalised and approved by the Cabinet of Ministers. The need is to recognize that without connectivity between spill gate openings and safety measures downstream, catastrophes downstream are bound to recur.
Therefore, the mandate for dam designers and those responsible for disaster management and forecasting should be for them to jointly establish guidelines relating to what safety measures are to be adopted for varying degrees of spill gate openings. For instance, the carrying capacity of the river should relate with a specific openinig of the spill gate. Another specific opening is required when the population should be compelled to move to high ground. The process should continue until the spill gate opening is such that it warrants the population to be evacuated. This relationship could also be established by relating the spill gate openings to the width of the river downstream.
The measures recommended above should be backed up by the judicious use of the land within the flood plain of reservoirs for “DRY DAMS” with sufficient capacity to intercept part of the spill gate discharge from which excess water could be released within the carrying capacity of the river. By relating the capacity of the DRY DAM to the spill gate opening, a degree of safety could be established. However, since the practice of demarcating flood plains is not taken seriously by the Institution concerned, the Government should introduce a Bill that such demarcations are made mandatory as part of State Land in the design and operation of reservoirs. Adopting such a practice would not only contribute significantly to control flooding, but also save lives by not permitting settlement but permitting agricultural activities only within these zones. Furthermore, the creation of an intermediate zone to contain excess flood waters would not tax the safety measures to the extent it would in the absence of such a safety net.
CONCLUSION
Perhaps, the towns of Kotmale and Gampola suffered severe flooding and loss of life because the opening of spill gates to release the unprecedented volumes of water from Cyclone Ditwah, was warranted by the need to ensure the safety of Kotmale and Upper Kotmale Dams.
This and other similar disasters bring into focus the connectivity that exists between forecasting, operation of spill gates, flooding and disaster management. Therefore, it is imperative that the government introduce the much-needed legislative and executive measures to ensure that the agencies associated with these disciplines develop a common operational framework to mitigate flooding and its destructive consequences. A critical feature of such a framework should be the demarcation of the flood plain, and decree that land within the flood plain is a zone set aside for DRY DAMS, planted with trees and free of human settlements, other than for agricultural purposes. In addition, the mandate of such a framework should establish for each river basin the relationship between the degree to which spill gates are opened with levels of flooding and appropriate safety measures.
The government should insist that associated Agencies identify and conduct a pilot project to ascertain the efficacy of the recommendations cited above and if need be, modify it accordingly, so that downstream physical features that are unique to each river basin are taken into account and made an integral feature of reservoir design. Even if such restrictions downstream limit the capacities to store spill gate discharges, it has to be appreciated that providing such facilities within the flood plain to any degree would mitigate the destructive consequences of the flooding.
By Neville Ladduwahetty
Features
Listening to the Language of Shells
The ocean rarely raises its voice. Instead, it leaves behind signs — subtle, intricate and enduring — for those willing to observe closely. Along Sri Lanka’s shores, these signs often appear in the form of seashells: spiralled, ridged, polished by waves, carrying within them the quiet history of marine life. For Marine Naturalist Dr. Malik Fernando, these shells are not souvenirs of the sea but storytellers, bearing witness to ecological change, resilience and loss.
“Seashells are among the most eloquent narrators of the ocean’s condition,” Dr. Fernando told The Island. “They are biological archives. If you know how to read them, they reveal the story of our seas, past and present.”
A long-standing marine conservationist and a member of the Marine Subcommittee of the Wildlife & Nature Protection Society (WNPS), Dr. Fernando has dedicated much of his life to understanding and protecting Sri Lanka’s marine ecosystems. While charismatic megafauna often dominate conservation discourse, he has consistently drawn attention to less celebrated but equally vital marine organisms — particularly molluscs, whose shells are integral to coastal and reef ecosystems.
“Shells are often admired for their beauty, but rarely for their function,” he said. “They are homes, shields and structural components of marine habitats. When shell-bearing organisms decline, it destabilises entire food webs.”
Sri Lanka’s geographical identity as an island nation, Dr. Fernando says, is paradoxically underrepresented in national conservation priorities. “We speak passionately about forests and wildlife on land, but our relationship with the ocean remains largely extractive,” he noted. “We fish, mine sand, build along the coast and pollute, yet fail to pause and ask how much the sea can endure.”
Through his work with the WNPS Marine Subcommittee, Dr. Fernando has been at the forefront of advocating for science-led marine policy and integrated coastal management. He stressed that fragmented governance and weak enforcement continue to undermine marine protection efforts. “The ocean does not recognise administrative boundaries,” he said. “But unfortunately, our policies often do.”
He believes that one of the greatest challenges facing marine conservation in Sri Lanka is invisibility. “What happens underwater is out of sight, and therefore out of mind,” he said. “Coral bleaching, mollusc depletion, habitat destruction — these crises unfold silently. By the time the impacts reach the shore, it is often too late.”
Seashells, in this context, become messengers. Changes in shell thickness, size and abundance, Dr. Fernando explained, can signal shifts in ocean chemistry, rising temperatures and increasing acidity — all linked to climate change. “Ocean acidification weakens shells,” he said. “It is a chemical reality with biological consequences. When shells grow thinner, organisms become more vulnerable, and ecosystems less stable.”
Climate change, he warned, is no longer a distant threat but an active force reshaping Sri Lanka’s marine environment. “We are already witnessing altered breeding cycles, migration patterns and species distribution,” he said. “Marine life is responding rapidly. The question is whether humans will respond wisely.”
Despite the gravity of these challenges, Dr. Fernando remains an advocate of hope rooted in knowledge. He believes public awareness and education are essential to reversing marine degradation. “You cannot expect people to protect what they do not understand,” he said. “Marine literacy must begin early — in schools, communities and through public storytelling.”
It is this belief that has driven his involvement in initiatives that use visual narratives to communicate marine science to broader audiences. According to Dr. Fernando, imagery, art and heritage-based storytelling can evoke emotional connections that data alone cannot. “A well-composed image of a shell can inspire curiosity,” he said. “Curiosity leads to respect, and respect to protection.”
Shells, he added, also hold cultural and historical significance in Sri Lanka, having been used for ornamentation, ritual objects and trade for centuries. “They connect nature and culture,” he said. “By celebrating shells, we are also honouring coastal communities whose lives have long been intertwined with the sea.”
However, Dr. Fernando cautioned against romanticising the ocean without acknowledging responsibility. “Celebration must go hand in hand with conservation,” he said. “Otherwise, we risk turning heritage into exploitation.”
He was particularly critical of unregulated shell collection and commercialisation. “What seems harmless — picking up shells — can have cumulative impacts,” he said. “When multiplied across thousands of visitors, it becomes extraction.”
As Sri Lanka continues to promote coastal tourism, Dr. Fernando emphasised the need for sustainability frameworks that prioritise ecosystem health. “Tourism must not come at the cost of the very environments it depends on,” he said. “Marine conservation is not anti-development; it is pro-future.”

Dr. Malik Fernando
Reflecting on his decades-long engagement with the sea, Dr. Fernando described marine conservation as both a scientific pursuit and a moral obligation. “The ocean has given us food, livelihoods, climate regulation and beauty,” he said. “Protecting it is not an act of charity; it is an act of responsibility.”
He called for stronger collaboration between scientists, policymakers, civil society and the private sector. “No single entity can safeguard the ocean alone,” he said. “Conservation requires collective stewardship.”
Yet, amid concern, Dr. Fernando expressed cautious optimism. “Sri Lanka still has immense marine wealth,” he said. “Our reefs, seagrass beds and coastal waters are resilient, if given a chance.”
Standing at the edge of the sea, shells scattered along the sand, one is reminded that the ocean does not shout its warnings. It leaves behind clues — delicate, enduring, easily overlooked. For Dr. Malik Fernando, those clues demand attention.
“The sea is constantly communicating,” he said. “In shells, in currents, in changing patterns of life. The real question is whether we, as a society, are finally prepared to listen — and to act before silence replaces the story.”
By Ifham Nizam
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