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A weekend with a family in Sinharaja

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By Siri Ipalawatte
Canberra

The bus disappears around the bend, and the villagers who disembark with me shuffle off into narrow paths whilst carrying their heavy gunny sacks. Night is falling, the cicada buzz is rising, and I begin to get that panicky feeling that the city-coddled folk might experience upon finding themselves suddenly alone on the roadside in a remote village in Deniyaya with no idea where to go!Before my panic escalates, a man wearing an oversized checked shirt over a pair of faded brown shorts appears. He says his name is Palitha, and tells me to follow him on what turns out to be an ankle-jarring trek up the steep, stony tracks that make up the road to his house, my accommodation for the next two nights.

We pass through a high corridor of stunted tea bushes and arrive at a brick building with a pitched roof of locally made tiles. This simple structure and the man who runs the place is the reason I have ended up here rather than a hotel. Sinharaja Homestay is fairly basic. Staying here saves a lot of hassle as you can arrange a rainforest walk with a certified guide who is very knowledgeable about the forest. You can enjoy home cooked food prepared by his mother and have a late-night chat with his old father. The look and feel of these places is very different from a star hotel,’ a Canberra friend who stayed here last year, told me after his holiday in Sri Lanka, a delicate way of saying that guests wanting air conditioning will often find themselves presented with portable fans. ‘Once that understanding and appreciation is there, I think visitors like going ‘free range’ and getting to know the village people. People and their way of living are at the heart of this experience.’

Waiting outside in the cooling dusk was Palitha’s father, wearing two button-down shirts, a white sarong and a woolly, handmade headscarf. His face is crinkled with old smiles. We creak up the small wooden staircase and sit on the veranda, which overlooks sweeping terraces of abandoned tea plantations edged with balustrades of bamboo and banana trees.

Technicolor butterflies flutter by as large as ‘dolled-up’ bats. I glance toward a giant wood spider, its body the size of a blackened plum, floating in mid air. Recalling suddenly, that if it could string up a web between a jak tree and a mango tree more than five yards apart, it could just as easily pounce on my face! But Palitha’s mother rescues me by offering a steaming cup of tea with pieces of Sinharaja kithul jaggery and Palitha keeps feeding me information about the forest.

Sinharaja Reserve covers 19,000 hectares of natural and modified forest and occupies a broad ridge at the heart of the island’s wet zone. It was once a royal reserve, and some colonial records refer to it as Rajasinghe Forest. In 1840 the forest became British crown land and from that time efforts were made to preserve at least some of it. On most days the forest brings plentiful rain-clouds that replenish its deep soils and balance water resources for much of South-Western Sri Lanka. Recognising its importance to the island’s ecosystem, UNESCO declared the reserve a World Heritage Site in 1989.

I see Palitha’s mother is doing her cooking in the kitchen just next to where we sit. As I zoom my eyes around the warren-like space dimly lit by a kerosene lamp, I see a jumble of warped pans and dented pots hanging from the wall. A snarl of just harvested vegetables and foraged greens blanket the small table opposite her. She moves swiftly from task to task, using simple culinary tools to chop, mix, stir, taste, and then add correct ingredients. Palitha notices my keen interest and says almost everything that went into her dishes came from their home garden. The aromas from the kitchen are intoxicating – herbal, musky, and I can think of no other adjective but ‘fecund’.

Four of us gather round the dinner table and spoon her ‘kitchen aromas’ to our dinner plates. I look around as everyone is savouring her meal that includes dishes such as dried fish with fried onions and green chillies, dhal mixed with Maldives fish, mixed vegetables with coconut milk, ambarella curry and rice. I feel I have been enfolded into this beautiful and simple family.

After dinner, the house turns quiet. With the dishes done Palitha’s mother disappears back into her bedroom as Palitha, his father and I get our tea and take it out onto the front stoop. I listen to the night sounds making their way along the forest canopy as the mosquitoes begin to rise. I am enveloped in stillness. I hear silence; I make remark about this while tending to my hot tea.

In the morning, Palitha gets behind the wheel of an old green-colored jeep. I get a closer look at it and try to figure it out. I can see that he’s added a few cosmetics and some modifications, but a two-piece windshield and side-mounted seats suggest this is likely a reincarnated ‘Willy’. We are on our way! First he has to take on some extra supplies. He heads to the middle of town and parks outside a little shop. He settles on a few bakery items, cans of drinks, salt, and some ambul bananas. On the edge of the town, Palitha fills up on diesel and drives faster as the town falls away, skirting some potholes, hitting others. Soon he leaves the tarmac road altogether, taking a gravel road toward the reserve.

He pulls over to pick up a skinny, bow legged middle-aged man carrying a shoulder bag and a long knife. The man is chewing on betel, the mild stimulant that is everywhere in rural Sri Lanka. ‘This is Piyasena, he is going to get some thelijja’. We pass a very narrow one-lane bridge and numerous rice fields. The trees look different, taller and healthier, and we are getting closer to our destination; we walk the final four kilometres into the rainforest. Palitha takes some betel from Piyasena and begins to chew. We get a warm welcome smile from the young girl at the counter. ‘You are the first visitors of the day! She chirps.

After fitting ourselves with the not so fashionable but vital ‘leech socks’ generously sprinkled with salt, we are ready to set off into this magical rainforest. It is a warm and humid world where no wind penetrates and there is dense shade with moving flecks of lights. It is amazing to notice that every tree and plant has the tip of its leaf drawn out to a point in order to drain off the water rapidly. The forest floor, carpeted with leaves that fall off in never-ending rainfall the year round, opens into dark aisles, with undergrowth of tiny shrubs and tree seedlings. It is the forest of the future!

‘Look at that canopy of trees’ Palitha points out to the very top of a hill, much higher than the one we are climbing. ‘Every tree up there is specific and unique to this island. They occur in no other place in the world.’ As we walk he points to one bush, and then another. ‘There is nothing here that cannot be used for something. So much of this forest can be used for medicinal purposes. The local villagers use the woody climber – venivel – here as aspirin. The heen bovitiya is used against jaundice and hepatitis.’

He points out a paradise flycatcher, blue magpies, a crested serpent eagle, and a bee-eater. He knows how to identify them visually, but almost thirty years in the rainforest has also taught him to identify almost anything by its song.

I see many little walking paths used by villagers. These paths are overgrown with shrubs on narrow ridges so that in some places we have to walk in single file, watching to keep strictly to the middle of the ridge. There are numerous small rocks right in the middle of the rail, but the paths have been trodden so close to the rocks that they seem friendly to Palitha. He knows the terrain so well that he doesn’t need to look down as he moves. My feet have never felt rocks this hard and spiky, and my ankles give out over and over again. I have suffered a leech attack and am bleeding from my leg in various places. But I never bother to investigate what has been irritating me, until we come back to Palitha’s house and grab that steaming cup of plain tea with soft brown chunks of jaggery.

Later that evening, I sat with Palitha’s father and talked on the deck overlooking the little creek. The mosquitoes have risen and then settled in for the night, but small flies are landing on every available surface as we listen to the sounds of the water below. The birds have tucked themselves into the trees for the night. Whatever is hunting in the forest is doing it silently!

As the sun dips behind robust tall trees, I sip my tea while Palitha’s father is having a cup of polpala. He tells me that he is 89 years old. ‘I walk ten kilometres every day in the forest’ he says. His mornings begin when he wakes up and his days end when he feels like going to sleep. He eats ‘what he likes, twice a day: one big meal for lunch and a small portion for dinner’; mostly rice, yams, fruits and vegetables and occasionally dried fish, and no meat or eggs.

‘How is it’ I ask carefully, ‘to grow old in this way?’

I am wondering if it is imprudent to discuss mortality when someone is on the edge of his, but something tells me he knows things I can’t find in a book!

He says he spent all those years watching birds, animals, and chopping wood. He tells me when he gets stressed out he slows down. There’s no need to rush about and make a mess of things. Just slow down and take long breaths. He purses his lips and sucks in a deep, fierce breath through his nose, eyes closed, belly rising. He rests his knobby, wrinkled, knowing hands on his abdomen as it lifts, and when he is quite satisfied with this, he opens his eyes and slowly, fully releases his breath.His silver white hair is alight with the last rays of sun. The creek races past us with its incessant movement against the rocks. I cannot see how any life can be fuller than his.



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The scope of Sri Lanka’s commitments to accountability

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Vijitha Herath at the UNHRC

At the 60th Session of the UNHRC held in September 2025, Foreign Minister of Sri Lanka Vijitha Herath stated: “We sincerely believe that external action will only serve to create divisions, thereby jeopardising the genuine and tangible national processes that have already been set in motion”. In keeping with that concept “The Government is committed to advance accountability through credible domestic processes by establishing “an independent public prosecutor’s office”.

In fact, establishing such an office may involve amendments to existing Constitutional and Legal provisions depending on what specific acts have been violated by individuals or by groups. For instance, the statement by the Foreign Minister states: “We are also committed to ensuring that any person alleged to have committed any unlawful act is investigated, prosecuted and brought before courts through an independent national process, irrespective of their social status, background or any other ground”. This commitment is too vague in scope. On the other hand, if accountability is limited to “unlawful acts” associated with Sri Lanka’s Armed Conflict, the scope of amendments needed would be more specific. The material presented below is limited to “unlawful acts” relating to the Armed Conflict.

UNLAWFUL ACTS relating to ARMED CONFLICT

With the Security Forces representing the Government of Sri Lanka and the LTTE representing the Tamil Community were engaged in an Armed Conflict as citizens of Sri Lanka, each party to the Conflict should be held accountable by the same laws.

The only International Laws ratified by Sri Lanka are the 4 Geneva Conventions. Although these 4 Conventions were ratified in October 1959, they were incorporated into Domestic Law ONLY in 2006 by Act No. 4 of 2006. However, the provisions of this Act have NOT been in operation, since no Minister has signed it as required by the Act, that states: “1. (1) This Act may be cited as the Geneva Conventions Act, No. 4 of 2006 and shall come into operation on such date as the Minister may by Order published in the Gazette appoint (hereinafter referred to as the “appointed date”).

(2) Different dates may be appointed for the different Parts of the Act to come into operation”. Therefore, provisions of Act No. 4 of 2006 are not applicable to address accountability related issues.

The only other International Law incorporated into Domestic Law is Act No. 56 of 2007 relating to provisions in the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Article 3 (1) states: “No person shall propagate war or advocate national, racial or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility or violence”. This provision by itself justifies the LTTE to be held accountable for waging war against the State of Sri Lanka.

Furthermore, Sri Lanka has not ratified any other International Law including Protocols I and II Additional to the 4 Geneva Conventions. Therefore, no Domestic Law relating to Protocol II Additional to the 4 Geneva Convention exists.

Consequently, the scope of any accountability exercise should be limited to the provisions of Sri Lanka’s Penal Code and other laws such as the Army, Navy and Air Force Acts. Since the Armed Conflict initiated by the LTTE was an “OFFENCE AGAINST THE STATE according to CHAPTER VI of the Penal Code to create the State of Tamil Eelam, accountability for “unlawful acts” committed by the LTTE or the Security Forces have to be on the basis of the Penal Code.

Therefore, it is imperative that the “independent public prosecutor’s Office the Government is committed to set up is guided by the Legal provisions of Sri Lanka’s Penal Code when it undertakes the accountability exercise.

The Penal Code has no provision for War Crimes, Crimes against Humanity or Command Responsibility. However, although such provisions exist in Internationally recognized instruments, they are not relevant to accountability issues relating to parties to Sri Lanka’s Armed Conflict since International Laws do not automatically become Domestic Laws because Sri Lanka’s Dual Legal System requires such laws to be expressly incorporated into Domestic Law through Legislation for one to be enforceable in local Courts as in the case of Act No. 4 of 2006 and Act No. 56 of 20007.

CHALLENGES to the ACCOUNTABILITY EXERCISE

The Government expressed its commitment to “ensuring that any person alleged to have committed any unlawful act is investigated, prosecuted and brought before courts through an independent national process, irrespective of their social status, background or any other ground”. Despite such commitments, the stark reality is that individual commanders or former leaders of the LTTE who strategized, planned and implemented operations to carry out war against the State of Sri Lanka cannot be brought before a court of law because, either they claim not to exist or cannot be located.

This however, is not the case with the circumstances of the Security Forces that were associated with the conflict. A significant number of them along with their high ranking military officers and political leaders survived. Some of them have already been sanctioned on account of alleged war crimes based on alleged existing evidence, despite such provisions not being part of the Penal Code. Even if prosecuted by a Court of Law for violations committed under the Penal Code, their numbers would be considerably more, by virtue of the simple fact that they exist and furthermore can be located and produced before a Court of Law. Such an outcome would be inevitable if the government proceeds with its plan to investigate and prosecute perpetrators of crimes in the name of Justice for the victims of such crimes. This would be the outcome of the Retributive Process the Government is committed to pursue – a process that would seriously polarize the communities thus, jeopardizing “the genuine and tangible national processes that have already been set in motion” by the Government as the justification for a Domestic Process to address accountability.

Retribution in the name of justice ignores the fact that it is directed at none other than those who gave their full measure of devotion to protect the State and make the country whole, thereby ensuring security to millions who endured insecurity of such a degree that families would not travel together and parents would anxiously await the return of children from school because of possible terror attacks. Therefore, whether it is an external or domestic mechanism, any form of accountability exercise would be a blowback to reconciliation.

CONCLUSION

Two conclusions could be reached from the material presented above. The first is that the Legal Framework for an accountability exercise in Sri Lanka should be Sri Lanka’s Penal Code. The second is that International Laws or other Instruments relating to Armed Conflicts, whether ratified or not, are NOT applicable to Sri Lanka’s accountability exercise if such Laws have not been incorporated into Domestic Law. The reason being, Sri Lanka’s Dual Legal System prevents such recognition.

The statement by the Foreign Minister at the 60th Session of the UNHRC states: “As President Dissanayaka has reiterated, we are firmly and genuinely committed to working towards a country that respects and celebrates the diversity of its people with no division or discrimination, and we are resolved not to leave room for a resurgence of racism or extremism”.

Continuing, the statement states: “We are also committed to ensuring that any person alleged to have committed any unlawful act is investigated, prosecuted and brought before courts through an independent national process, irrespective of their social status, background or any other ground”. If such a commitment applies to those who participated in Sri Lanka’s Armed Conflict, the consequences of accountability would contradict the intentions stated by the President cited above, namely, to creating a nation that “respects and celebrates diversity of its people etc. etc. because LTTE leadership and the High Command cannot be brought before a Court of Law since they do not exist and/or be located, while the possibility exists for members of the Security Forces to be investigated and prosecuted simply because they exist and can be located to be produced before a Court of Law. Since this disparity is seriously discriminatory, the accountability exercise proposed by the Government would create the environment to polarise communities further – a prospect that contradicts the President’s stated intentions of a people with “no division or discrimination”,

Therefore, the government should revisit its stand on what constitutes Justice. Is it to be Retributive or Restorative? If it is to Investigate and Prosecute with an Independent Public Prosecutor, it is NOT Justice for the reasons cited above. On the other hand, Restorative Justice is not new to Sri Lanka, considering that out of “more than eleven thousand LTTE cadres who surrendered or were detained… 595 former LTTE child soldiers were rehabilitated … and reunited with their families … while a further 6130 were rehabilitated by 2011” (p.82, Ministry of Defence).

With such a history, the government should seriously explore all possibilities of Restorative Justice, starting with a blanket Amnesty for ALL associated with the Insurrections and the Armed Conflict and extending it beyond to restore the livelihood and the wellbeing of the survivors in ALL communities.

by Neville Ladduwahetty ✍️

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A scientific perspective: Why are elephant drives ineffective in mitigating human–elephant conflict?

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An elephant drive

Recently, an elephant drive was launched in the Hambantota District with the aim of mitigating the human–elephant conflict (HEC). However, the real question is whether HEC can truly be mitigated through elephant drives. Decades of scientific research in Sri Lanka have consistently shown that such drives are not only ineffective but also waste public funds and severely disrupt elephant social structures.

Some authorities assert that they are conducting this particular drive using a “scientific approach” and considering the welfare of both elephants and humans. Nevertheless, this claim is misleading. There is no scientific evidence to support the idea that elephant drives successfully mitigate HEC or promote the welfare of either elephants or people.

Science is built on observation, experimentation, and evidence-based conclusions—and all existing research using these methods has proven that elephant drives simply are not a solution for HEC mitigation.

What are elephant drives?

During the colonial period, “game drives” were organised to drive wild animals toward hunters for sport. Similarly, drives were used to herd elephants into kraals—large enclosures built for capturing them.

In modern times, elephant drives are carried out to relocate herds from one area to another in the belief that this may help reduce the intensity of HEC. These operations involve large groups of people chasing elephants by shouting and setting off firecrackers or thunder flashes, causing the frightened animals to flee. This process continues for days, subjecting the elephants to extreme stress. Once the animals are herded into the designated area, an electric fence is typically erected to confine them.

Although elephant drives have been conducted in Sri Lanka since the 1970s, including the most recent in 2025, none have succeeded in resolving HEC. A review of drives carried out between 1974 and 1993 showed that in eight out of nine cases, some or all of the relocated elephants eventually returned to their original habitats. In some areas, residents even reported that HEC worsened after such operations. This is likely because elephants, being highly intelligent and capable of long-term memory, remember the trauma of being driven away—making them more aggressive when they return.

In elephant societies, females and their young typically form cohesive herds, while adult males lead solitary lives. It is these lone males—particularly the aggressive individuals—that are responsible for the majority of HEC, including nearly all human fatalities, injuries, and property damage. They also account for most crop raids, often breaching even well-guarded fields. Unfortunately, such problem-causing males are notoriously resistant to removal through elephant drives and tend to remain in the conflict zones. Meanwhile, the elephants that are successfully driven out and confined to protected areas are predominantly females and juveniles—individuals who pose minimal threat to human communities.

The Centre for Conservation and Research (CCR) had recognised three types of elephant drives known as large, medium and small scale. Large-scale elephant drives cover vast areas, often hundreds of square kilometres, and can last from several months to over a year. Their goal is to completely remove elephants from their home ranges. Medium-scale drives, lasting a few days to weeks, move elephants only a few kilometres—usually within their existing ranges—and sometimes aim to confine them to protected areas. In contrast, small-scale drives are short-term responses to elephants entering villages or farmlands. These are typically carried out by locals or, if necessary, the Department of Wildlife Conservation (DWC). Such actions are better described as “elephant chasing”, since they differ in purpose and scale from larger, organised drives despite using similar methods.

Consequences of elephant drives

According to science-based strategy, the “National Action Plan for the Mitigation of Human-Elephant Conflict” mentions that large-scale elephant drives, which forcibly move herds from their home ranges into protected areas, often result in starvation and death, making it a threat to elephant conservation. For development projects in elephant habitats, a phased land-clearing approach combined with progressively expanded electric fencing is recommended to reduce both habitat loss and conflict, avoiding the failures and costs of elephant drives.

Medium-scale drives merely displace elephants within their home ranges and fail to offer lasting relief from HEC. These operations often heighten elephant aggression and may trap herds inside protected areas where limited resources can lead to starvation. Such drives are typically carried out due to public or political pressure, despite their counterproductive outcomes.

Small-scale “elephant chasing” remains a short-term necessity until more effective measures are introduced. However, it should be restricted to urgent cases and conducted with minimal aggression to avoid worsening conflict. To manage this better, systematic data collection on elephant chasing—such as frequency, effectiveness, and outcomes—is essential to assess its true impact on HEC mitigation and elephant conservation.

Examples highlighting the repercussions of elephant drives

For many years, elephant herds in the Yala region used the forested and chena farming areas north of the park during the dry season. Farmers cultivated their crops during the rainy season and left afterward, allowing elephants to feed on the leftover vegetation. This system created a natural balance between people and elephants, with both sharing the land at different times of the year.

Around 2000–2001, however, the DWC did an elephant drive and constructed an electric fence to prevent elephants from leaving the park and entering nearby agricultural lands. Once the fence was fully closed, elephants became trapped inside Yala National Park, which mostly consists of mature forest that provides limited food during the dry months. As a result of this confinement, many young elephants and several females within most herds succumbed to starvation. The fence, meant to protect farmlands, ended up harming the elephants that rarely raided crops. Most raiding males remain outside the fence in Forest Department lands and the Nimalawa Sanctuary, while others repeatedly break the fence—leaving at night to raid crops and returning to the park by morning.

Another classic example is the 2006 Lunugamwehera elephant drive, which confined the elephants to a small patch of forest. This overcrowding, coupled with the lack of food and water, ultimately led many of them to die of starvation.

These stories highlight how well-intentioned but poorly planned conservation actions, such as elephant drives, confining elephants to limited habitats, can have devastating effects—threatening both humans and elephants.

What could be done instead to mitigate HEC?

It is worth noting that in 2020, a committee of wildlife experts developed a National Action Plan for mitigating HEC. The strategies outlined in this plan were selected based on proven effectiveness, practical feasibility across different regions and timeframes, and overall cost efficiency. In the pilot project areas, villagers reported that they used to experience frequent HEC before the project was implemented, but that the problem largely disappeared afterward. Public consultations and discussions with relevant government agencies were also held, and their input was incorporated where appropriate. If this plan is properly implemented, it holds strong potential to significantly reduce HEC in the country.

by Tharindu Muthukumarana ✍️
tharinduele@gmail.com
(Author of the award-winning book “The Life of Last Proboscideans: Elephants”)

 

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In the Heart of the Amazon: COP 30 and the fate of the Planet

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The Amazon

My recent visit to Brazil coincided partly with the Conference of the Parties (COP) 30, the 30th United Nations Climate Conference in Belém. Although I did not attend COP 30, I was very fortunate to visit the Amazon. It was both awe-inspiring and humbling to experience —even briefly—the mystery and stillness of nature, and the ebb and flow of life in the Amazon: the largest tropical rainforest in the world, sustained by the ever-flowing Amazon River, the largest and widest river on Earth.

The magnificent forest, the river, and its tributaries, such as the black-water Rio Negro, teem with countless interdependent species. The great Samaúma—the “tree of life,” or giant kapok tree—stands tall above innumerable other trees, vines, and plants. Many trees provide homes for birds and other animals that build their nests high among the branches or near the roots. Sloths do not build nests; instead, they spend their entire lives in the forest canopy, hanging upside down from branches while resting or sleeping.

In contrast, capuchin and squirrel monkeys leap from tree to tree in search of food, while birds—from the tiniest short-tailed pygmy tyrant to the colorful red-crested, green, and black Amazon kingfishers—flit from branch to branch, each awaiting its own prey. As night falls, the beautiful white owl-like great potoo emerges and sits patiently, seemingly forever, waiting for its turn to hunt.

In the river, silvery flying fish—sometimes in droves—leap from the water to catch insects, while gray and pink dolphins bob up and down, chasing fish or simply playing. Along the banks, proud egrets and fierce spectacled and black caimans lie in wait for their prey. Overhead, flocks of birds, including parakeets, fill the sky with song as vultures descend to feed on the remains of fallen animals below.

Humans have also lived in the Amazon for tens of thousands of years, in close symbiosis with other species, hunting in the forest and fishing in the river for their survival. Petroglyphs—carvings of human and animal figures, along with abstract shapes etched into rocks along the Amazon River—speak of their deep respect for nature and their ways of communicating with one another. Even today, many of the indigenous communities who inhabit the Amazon remain devoted to protecting Mother Earth, upholding their eco-centric values and traditional ways of life.

There are also the river people (ribeirinhos), many of mixed indigenous and Portuguese descent, living along the Amazon River—often in floating homes or houses built on stilts. Their livelihoods and cultures are deeply intertwined with the river and forest, making the protection of the Amazon essential to their survival.

The Amazon lost an estimated 54.2 million hectares of forest—over 9% of its total area—between 2001 and 2020, an expanse roughly the size of France. The Brazilian Amazon, which makes up 62% of the rainforest’s territory, was the most affected, followed by Bolivia, Peru, and Colombia. Along with deforestation, the Amazon is estimated to lose 4,000 to 6,000 plant and animal species each year.

COP 30

At the opening of the COP 30 Conference in Belém, Luiz Inácio “Lula” da Silva, the President of Brazil pointed out that concrete climate action is possible and that deforestation in the Amazon has been halved just in the past two years. He declared that the “era of fine speeches and good intentions is over” and that Brazil’s COP 30 will be a ‘COP of Truth and Action’, “COPs cannot be mere showcases of good ideas or annual gatherings for negotiators. They must be moments of contact with reality and of effective action to tackle climate change.”

President da Silva also emphasised that Brazil is a global leader in biofuel production—renewable energy derived from organic materials such as plants, algae, and waste—stressing that “a growth model based on fossil fuels cannot last.” Indeed, at COP 30, the future of the world’s tropical forests, vital ecosystems, and the shared climate of humanity and other species is at stake.

“Truth and Action”

Notwithstanding President da Silva’s optimistic pronouncements at Belém, troubling developments continue on the climate front in Brazil and around the world. In preparation for COP 30, the Brazilian government—along with India, Italy, and Japan—launched an ambitious initiative in October 2025: the “Belém 4x” pledge, which aims to quadruple global sustainable fuel use by 2035. This goal is projected to more than double current biofuel consumption. However, environmentalists have expressed concern that a massive expansion of biofuel production, if undertaken without strong safeguards, could accelerate deforestation, degrade land and water resources, harm ecosystems, and threaten food security—particularly as crops such as soy, sugarcane, and palm oil compete for land between energy and food production.

Just days before COP30, the Brazilian government granted the state-run oil company Petrobras a license to drill for oil near the mouth of the Amazon River. The government, including Minister for the Environment Marina da Silva, has defended the move, claiming that the project would help finance Brazil’s energy transition and help achieve its economic development goals.

Environmentalists have criticized the decision, accusing the government of promoting fossil fuel expansion and worsening global warming. They warn that drilling off the coast of the world’s largest tropical rainforest—a crucial carbon sink—poses a serious threat to biodiversity and indigenous communities in the Amazon region.

According to environmental activists, in the Amazon, “31 million hectares of Indigenous Peoples’ territories are already overlapped by oil and gas blocks, with an additional 9.8 million hectares threatened by mining concessions.”

Moreover, a controversial four-lane highway, Avenida Liberdade, built in Belém in preparation for the COP30 climate summit, is being defended by the Brazilian government as necessary infrastructure for the city’s growing population. Environmentalists and some locals are alarmed that clearing more than 100 hectares of protected Amazon Rainforest to build the road will accelerate deforestation, harm wildlife, and undermine the climate goals of the COP summit.

The onus of protecting the Amazon Rainforest—often called “the lungs of the planet”— cannot rest on Brazil alone; it is a shared responsibility of all humanity. Numerous studies show that the world can thrive without fossil and biofuels by adopting alternative renewable energy sources such as solar, wind, and hydroelectric power.

The global order, led by the United States and other Western nations, bears primary responsibility for the climate and environmental crises, as well as for deepening global inequality. Emerging powers from the Global South—particularly the BRICS nations, including Brazil—are now called to move beyond rhetoric and take concrete action. As President Lula da Silva himself has stated, COP 30 presents a critical opportunity to move decisively in that direction.

Negotiators and policymakers at COP 30 must take firm, principled moral action—resisting pressure from the fossil fuel lobby and prioritizing the interests of the planet and its people over short-term, profit-driven growth.

Asoka Bandarage is the author of Women, Population and Global Crisis: A Politico-Economic Analysis (Zed Books, 1997), Sustainability and Well-Being: The Middle Path to Environment, Society and the Economy (Palgrave MacMillan, 2013) and numerous other publications on global political economy and the environment including “The Climate Emergency And Urgency of System Change” (2023) and ‘Existential Crisis, Mindfulness and the Middle Path to Social Action’ (2025). She serves on the Steering Committee of the Interfaith Moral Action on Climate.

by Dr. Asoka Bandarage ✍️

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