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Into the Unknown – from Scotland to the Central Hill of Ceylon: the Story of the Early Planters

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Today, May 2, 2021 marks the 129th death anniversary of James Taylor, the Scotsman popularly known as the father of tea in Sri Lanka. Hailing from Kincardineshire in Scotland, Taylor arrived on the island of Ceylon as a 17-years old youth to take up coffee planting and settled in the Loolecondera (Loolkandura) Estate in Galaha, Hewaheta. Taylor pioneered the growing of tea in the ailing coffee plantations. His achievements in growing and processing tea were the beginning of a lucrative industry.

The result was an unimaginable, impressive transformation of the landscape of the hill country. Two years after arriving on the island, Taylor wrote to an acquaintance in Scotland and said that those were the most uncomfortable two years of his life. What sort of life these pioneer youngsters endured! The following notes are on the harrowing life experiences of those pioneers that ventured into the unknown with little or no thoughts of whether their pioneering efforts would ever lead to a profitable industry that would change the lives of a nation.

The credit for introducing coffee to India and Ceylon goes to Arab traders. Following its introduction to the island, the coffee plant grew almost wild in home gardens, its snow-white flowers giving an exquisite fragrance to the surrounding area.

The Portuguese, in the maritime areas of the island, concentrated their attention on cinnamon. Coffee was not on their agenda. The Dutch, nevertheless, had ideas of cultivating coffee besides cinnamon and spices but hardly had the expertise. Their first attempt was to plant coffee in the southwestern part of the island in Baddegama area around the Ginganga basin. The soil conditions were unsuitable. Soon sugar cane and later coconut replaced the crop.

The British thought that coffee was growing wild in the Kandyan hills. They surmised that the climate was ideal for commercial cultivation. Pristine tropical forest-clad Kandyan hills were now called crown land. New entrepreneurs bought these lands that flocked to grab the virgin mountains and valleys. These lands were cheap, some going as cheap as five shillings per acre. Within a short period, the rate went up to reach one pound per acre. The expanding empire required large numbers of young and energetic English people. Coffee planting in Ceylon attracted the adventurous young, prepared to face the unknown future many miles away from their homes. Scots were the most prolific adventurers to arrive in Ceylon. Large numbers were from and around Aberdeen. Many were from the same village or the adjoining districts and were often related. Word of mouth spread far and wide. The British trading ships brought young, iron-hearted men to Galle and Colombo. At first, those who grabbed the opportunity of acquiring crown land were the military and the British administrative officers stationed in Colombo. The Ceylon coffee boom started in 1825. It has been compared to the gold rush in California and Australia around about the same period.

A typical story of a coffee prospector described by John Weatherstone is as follows. A proprietor would hire a newly arrived young Scot as superintendent and a few coolies in Colombo. They will start collecting planting utensils, knives, machetes, mammoties, ropes, lamp oil, candles, and boxes of matches in addition to large quantities of rice and other foodstuffs. The most important purchase of the young recruit would be some coffee seeds for the nursery. Setting up a nursery was the first task to be started almost immediately on reaching the designated land. Their journey to Kandy would now take only a day or two by bullock cart and walking, compared to their compatriot military men.

On reaching Kandy, the group would relax for a day or two while buying little things that would come in handy and to replenish the larder. They also acquired a rudimentary first aid box. They would then move on horseback and on foot to the hills, where a surveyor would show the owner his designated land. Surveying was a lucrative profession and was often almost impossible to carry on due to impassable mountainous terrain and colossal trees that would interfere with the ‘sight lines’. Some of the surveys were way off when scrutinized years later.

The proprietor would return to Colombo after handing over the estate to the young pioneer. Thus the young man, uninitiated (often in his late teens), was left in the unknown, unfamiliar tropical mountain forest. While sheltering in a makeshift primitive talipot palm leaf-covered hut, the recruit would get a patch of land cleared for the nursery. This chore was the first task, and the massive effort towards clearing the virgin jungle came next. By the time land was cleared, maybe 50 – 100 acres, it was hoped, the coffee plants in the nursery would have grown to a size suitable for transplanting.

Clearing of virgin forests accelerated to a new level as the coffee prospectors pushed their way through Pussellawa and then to the Kotmale valley and the hills up the Ramboda area. Jungle clearing was the domain of the Sinhalese. John Capper left a dramatic account of jungle felling while visiting a coffee plantation in the hills above Kandy. About 40 ax-men took part in the chore. Small and medium-sized trees were selected to be axed first, leaving small stumps still keeping the trunks up. The large trees above would receive the axe similarly. A conch shell signal dispersed the crowd of noisy ax-men below, leaving those who managed the large trees above. The next conch shell signal alerted those above manning the large trees to sever the bit of trunk that kept the tree upright. With a thunderous noise, the colossal trees with their spreading branches landed on the smaller trees which succumbed to the same fate. Complete clearing the ground was not essential for coffee. Elephants were often used to clear the area, and what is left was burnt.

One of the earliest coffee planters of Ceylon was George Bird (son changed the spelling of the name to Byrde), known as the father of coffee in Ceylon. He started the first coffee estate in 1821, close to Gampola in Sinhapitiya. Sir Edward Barnes, the Governor, was so impressed with this pioneer tropical agriculturist he awarded Bird a tax-free loan of 4000 Rx dollars to start a much bigger venture. He was the first planter to employ the first consignment of Indian labor to work the coffee estates of Ceylon.

Without the gang of Indian coolies the survival of the early coffee and tea planters would have been impossible. According to John Weatherstone, the whole plantation industry benefited, so did the country. Without the Indian coolies the estates also could never have been worked. Many of the brave pioneers that pushed their way through the hostile, unfamiliar tropical rain forests were soon replaced by a new breed of coffee prospectors when officers of the British India Company and many with their capital started arriving on the island. ‘King Coffee’ of Ceylon reached its climax in 1854. Calamitously the coffee prices fell in 1847. This phenomenon led some of the original coffee prospectors to bankruptcy. Large tracts of coffee were abandoned and allowed to turn into scrublands. Fortunately, coffee was not doomed. Coffee prices gradually started to take off, and soon Ceylon coffee regained its kingship. Twenty-odd years later, around 1867, the coffee rust (Hamileia vastatrix) appeared among the plantations that slowly pushed the entire coffee industry to the bottom, never to raise its head again. The enterprising planters soon took over the new craze of replacing coffee plantations with tea boosted by the pioneers such as James Taylor of Loolcondera (Loolkandura) Estate. People used to say that the re-planting of tea was on the graveyard of old coffee estates of Ceylon. By the 1900s, there were more than half a million Indian coolies working in the plantation sectors. They arrived from south India as ‘unberthed’ paying deck passengers in British India Steam Navigation Company vessels. Their trek to the hills was by foot and, many succumbed without ever reaching their destinations.

The talipot palm-leaved shacks were gone. Estate bungalows with granite walls, wood-burning fireplaces, and chimneys, typically English, estate-bungalows came to be. Generally, an estate-bungalow was run by the ‘Appu’ who was the cook and the caretaker. A ‘boy’ would see to the comforts of the master acting as a valet. The garden and the vegetable plot would be in charge of a coolie who was non-resident. There would be a cowshed, a poultry run, and a stable for the horses. The ‘Master Sir’ was the lord of the estate. It was a lonely job. So young and yearning for company, the Master-Sir had to endure untold hardships.

Nevertheless, the early planters took great pains to continue the English way of living despite being almost isolated in their estate bungalows. The great naturalist and marine biologist Ernest Haeckel, while traveling through the plantations, was hosted by a planter who insisted that he appear for dinner in a black jacket and white tie! Of course, Haeckel did not have such formal attire in his traveling kit. But at dinner, his host was formally dressed while the lady wore a formal dinner gown.

John Weatherstone refers to J. P. Lewis’s note on the tragic death of a young planter of Nillambe, Mr. E.A. Morgan. He was riding back from Kandy with cash to pay his coolies. A Sinhalese emptied both barrels of his shotgun that struck the young planter squarely and the assailant made away with the money. The stricken-planter who was not dismounted, made his way to the estate but succumbed to his injury the same evening.

Dysentery, jungle fever (malaria) and, other tropical diseases were rampant. Many succumbed while still being in the prime of their lives. Many were cared for by their staff and friends. A number of them were taken to hotels or boarding houses in Kandy. Many of them died, away from their loved ones, unlamented and unsung in an alien land. There have been instances where the close kinship between the master, appu, and the boy broke. Weatherstone records the curious murders of two young planters by their appus.

The nearest English or Scottish neighbor being 12 to 15 miles away, the early young planters were suffering from isolation. The feminine company being almost non-existent, almost all took Tamil or Sinhalese girls as concubines. James Taylor had a Tamil concubine. At the time of his demise, there was a grieving Sinhala woman.

In a scenario when all creature comforts of good living are at the touch of a button, it is not easy to imagine the hardships those early planters endured. A recent drive up to the Nagrak Bungalow of Nonpareil estate in Belihuloya along a narrow track made us gaze in awe at the marvel these young pioneers had engineered. The passage involves thirty-three sharp hairpin bends. While driving up this crumbling track, we left our lives in the hands of our expert drivers.

What tremendous effort would have gone in the planning and executing this zigzagging track close up to the Horton Plains? No wonder that this mountain track is called ‘Devil’s Staircase’. Sri Lanka reaped the benefits of tea, boosting our island economy, for more than a 150 years. We are indeed indebted to the pioneer, young brave-hearts who paved the way.

A tremendous transformation took place in the tea industry of Sri Lanka since James Taylor’s time. The following statistic exemplifies this statement. The first-ever export of tea to London was a mere 23 pounds (by James Taylor) compared to the 278.5 million kilograms exported in 2020 despite the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. On the 129th death anniversary of the ‘Father of Tea’ let us spend a moment remembering this 17-year old Scot who never returned to Scotland but spent the next 40 years in the central hills of our resplendent island.



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Rebuilding Sri Lanka Through Inclusive Governance

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Management Committee of the 'Rebuilding Sri Lanka' Fund Appointed with Representatives from the Public and Private Sectors - PMD

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

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Reservoir operation and flooding

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Floods caused by Cyclone Ditwah

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

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Listening to the Language of Shells

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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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