Encircled by the Afro-Asian landmass and island chains on the three sides, the Indian Ocean is a vast bay whose monsoon winds and waves have long driven connection and contestation. It has served as an interface of connectivity, a highway of communication, a protective moat, an abundant source of food, and a battleground for the political entities along its shores since the dawn of history. The Indian Ocean has always been a restless expanse of movement of ships, peoples, ideas, and ambitions. Empires once traced their boundaries across its waters; traders, monks, and migrants carried commodities, languages and faiths that wove distant shores into a single, fluid world.

Today, those same waters have re-emerged as a pivotal space of 21st century global geopolitics. New maritime corridors, naval deployments, and infrastructural projects have transformed the ocean into a living map of global security architecture. From the vantage point of Sri Lanka—an island located at the very heart of the Indian Ocean—these shifting currents of influence are neither abstract nor remote. They shape the country’s ports, diplomacy, and economy. This chapter situates Sri Lanka within the wider Indian Ocean system, introduces “currents” as a metaphor for interacting forces—geopolitical, geo-economic, and normative—and shows how a small-state perspective reframes narratives often dominated by great powers. Reading the ocean from the island reveals both the vulnerabilities and strategic possibilities that accompany life at the crossroads of the world’s most contested waters.

The pre-modern monsoon system determined the rhythm of trade, pilgrimage, and cultural exchange. Long before European colonisation, these routes sustained cosmopolitan port cities Mombasa, Aden, Calicut, Galle, and Malacca, that thrived on interdependence (Chaudhuri 1985; Hourani 1995). Before the Portuguese entered the Indian Ocean, at the turn of the 15th century, no single political power had succeeded in controlling the entire maritime space. The arrival of the Portuguese and the establishment of their naval thalassocracy marked a fundamental shift in regional security. It inaugurated the colonial phase of the ocean’s history, during which control of the sea lanes of communication (SLCs) became the central mechanism of European domination in Asia (Pearson 1987). Successive imperial powers—Portuguese, Dutch, and British—recast ancient circuits of exchange into networks of extraction and control. The British Empire, in particular, transformed the Indian Ocean into the logistical backbone of its global order, with Ceylon, which was known then, serving as a vital coaling station and communication hub

The end of formal empire after 1945 did not diminish the ocean’s strategic significance; it merely reconfigured it. Following decolonisation, the Cold War redefined the Indian Ocean as a zone of strategic contestation. The establishment of US facilities in Diego Garcia, Soviet naval build up in Aden and Berbera, and India’s regional ambitions collectively militarised the maritime space. By the late 20th century, however, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rise of Asia’s economies shifted emphasis from ideological rivalry to economic competition (Kaplan 2010). The Indian Ocean re-emerged as the conduit for energy supplies and trade routes sustaining global growth. The resurgence of China, the assertiveness of India, and the recalibration of US power have together reanimated this ancient arena (Brewster 2014).

Conceptualising the Currents of Power

To understand the contemporary Indian Ocean order, one must first grasp the meaning of “currents” not merely as a poetic metaphor but as an analytical tool. In the oceanic world, currents are never still; they are in constant motion, converging, diverging, and interacting across depths and surfaces. They symbolise mobility, flux, and interconnection; forces that shape without always being visible. They are once violent, once calm. The same imagery can illuminate the behaviour of power in maritime geopolitics. Power, like water, rarely moves in a single direction; it circulates, eddies, and reconstitutes itself through interaction. (Amrith 2013). It is this fluid quality of power, rather than its concentration, that defines the Indian Ocean in the 21st century. The metaphor of “currents of power” thus challenges static or territorial notions of influence. It invites us to think of the Indian Ocean not as a space divided by national boundaries but as a field of overlapping movements—military, economic, and normative—that together generate a dynamic, multipolar order. In this sense, the ocean currents provide both the material and conceptual setting for examining how power operates in motion.

The first set of currents is geopolitical—those concerned with the projection of military capability, the control of chokepoints, and the establishment of strategic presence. These are the most visible and historically entrenched expressions of power in the Indian Ocean. From the British Empire’s maritime hegemony in the 19th century to the US naval predominance after 1945, control over the ocean’s arteries has long been equated with global influence. Alfred Thayer Mahan’s classic dictum—whoever rules the waves rules the world—continues to shape strategic thinking, from Washington to New Delhi and Beijing (Holmes and Yoshihara 2008).

In the present era, geopolitical currents manifest through naval deployments, port access agreements, and strategic partnerships. The United States maintains a “constant current of change” through its Fifth Fleet operations and prepositioned assets in Diego Garcia (Kaplan 2010). China, through its expanding fleet and Belt and Road ports, seeks to secure sea lanes vital to its energy imports (Blanchard and Flint 2017). India, positioned as both resident power and regional guardian, projects influence across the Bay of Bengal and the Arabian Sea (Keerawella 2024). Russia, Japan, and European actors also contribute to this fluid equilibrium, ensuring that no single power commands the entire oceanic space. For smaller states, such as Sri Lanka, these currents pose both opportunity and constraint. Hosting a naval visit or allowing port access can yield economic and diplomatic dividends but also risks entanglement in rivalries.

If geopolitical currents represent the ocean’s hard power dimension, geo-economic currents embody its material flows—trade, investment, infrastructure, and debt. These are the currents that link harbours, supply chains, and financial systems into a single circulatory network. In many respects, these economic forces exert an even deeper influence than military ones because they shape dependency and development over time (Strange 1988).

The Indian Ocean carries nearly two-thirds of the world’s oil shipments and a third of global cargo traffic. It is through these routes that the prosperity of the 21st century travels. The competition to build and control ports, pipelines, and undersea cables—from Gwadar to Hambantota and from Mombasa to Perth—illustrates how economic and strategic motives intertwine (Chaturvedi and Okano-Heijmans 2019). Infrastructure initiatives such as China’s Maritime Silk Road, India’s Sagarmala and Security and Growth for All in the Region (SAGAR) policy, and Japan’s Partnership for Quality Infrastructure are not simply development programnes; they are instruments of influence embedded in the landscape of connectivity (Medcalf 2020).

Geo-economic currents also include financial dependencies and debt relationships. The experience of smaller Indian Ocean states—Sri Lanka, the Maldives, and others—demonstrate how investment can generate both growth and vulnerability. Ports financed through concessional loans may improve trade capacity, yet they also tie local economies to external decision-making The ocean’s economic currents, therefore, are not neutral; they flow through channels shaped by power and asymmetry (Strange 1988).

For Sri Lanka, navigating these currents demands careful balancing. The country’s position as a transshipment hub gives it leverage, but its limited domestic resources make it susceptible to external economic tides. Understanding geo-economic currents as dynamic and interdependent—rather than unidirectional—helps explain how smaller states engage in what scholars of small-state diplomacy call strategic diversification: leveraging multiple partnerships to reduce vulnerability to any single actor.

Beyond military and economic dimensions, the Indian Ocean is also traversed by normative or ideational currents—flows of values, governance models, and diplomatic norms (Finnemore and Sikkink 1998; Crawford 2002). These are the subtle forces that shape legitimacy and influence through persuasion rather than coercion. As Neta C. Crawford (2002) argues, moral reasoning and communicative action constitute a distinct form of power: the capacity to transform interests and behaviour through the force of argument and ethical appeal. The European Union’s emphasis on maritime governance and climate security, India’s civilisational diplomacy, and China’s narrative of South–South cooperation each represent attempts to define the moral and political tone of regional order (Acharya 2014). Soft power, as Joseph Nye (2004) famously described it, derives from attraction—the ability to shape others’ preferences through culture, ideology, or legitimacy. In the Indian Ocean, soft power travels through education, religious linkages, development aid, and multilateral diplomacy (Wilson 2015). Sri Lanka’s historical role as a Buddhist and trading crossroads offers its own reservoir of cultural soft power, even if underutilised.

Normative currents rarely flow in isolation; they interact continuously with geopolitical and economic forces, shaping and being shaped by them. In the Indian Ocean, the invocation of norms often masks underlying strategic or material interests. Freedom of navigation operations, for instance, is framed as defences of international law and the liberal maritime order, yet they also reaffirm the naval pre-eminence of established powers and signal deterrence to rivals (Finnemore and Sikkink 1998; Holmes and Yoshihara 2008). Likewise, development aid and infrastructure financing are presented as altruistic contributions to regional growth but frequently serve to open markets, secure influence, and extend spheres of access (Baldwin 2016; Strange 1988). As Neta C. Crawford (2002) reminds us, the power of norms lies not only in their moral appeal but also in the ways they are invoked, contested, and instrumentalised through political argument.

The interplay among these currents—material and ideational, coercive and persuasive—creates the dense, dynamic texture of the contemporary Indian Ocean order. Each current strengthens, redirects, or constrains the others: geopolitical maneuvers require normative justification; economic initiatives depend on legitimacy; and moral claims often derive their potency from material capability. Understanding this circulation of power in motion—where norms, interests, and strategies coalesce—reveals how influence in the Indian Ocean is exercised less through dominance than through the continual negotiation of legitimacy, access, and authority.

Taken together, these three dimensions do not operate in isolation. They intersect and overlap, producing a dynamic system that resists simple hierarchies. A port built for commercial purposes (geo-economic) may acquire military functions (geopolitical) and be justified under the banner of regional development (normative). Similarly, a naval exercise might reinforce alliances and shared values as much as it projects force).

The result is an increasingly multipolar oceanic order—one in which no single state can dominate all currents simultaneously (Acharya 2014). Instead, power is distributed through networks of cooperation, competition, and mutual dependence. For small and middle powers, this interpenetration creates spaces of maneuver. Rather than choosing between great powers, they can participate in multiple currents, aligning selectively while maintaining autonomy. This form of pragmatic engagement characterises much of Sri Lanka’s contemporary diplomacy: a continual act of navigation through convergence and counter-current.

The Historical Rhythm

Sri Lanka occupies what may be called the strategic fulcrum of the Indian Ocean—a small island astride the principal east–west maritime artery linking the Strait of Hormuz to the Strait of Malacca. Its proximity to India, its deep-water harbours, and its access to major sea lanes confer both opportunity and vulnerability. Geography has made Sri Lanka simultaneously participant and prize in the oceanic power game: the same sea that connected it to the wider world also exposed it to successive waves of conquest, commerce, and competition.

Yet geography alone does not constitute power. It frames possibilities rather than dictating outcomes. The interaction between location and agency—between spatial position and political choice—determines whether the island becomes a corridor, a crossroads, or a captive of external forces. Understanding Sri Lanka’s strategic dilemmas, therefore, requires situating policy within this enduring geography of exposure.

Long before the arrival of European powers, Sri Lanka served as a vital node in the Indian Ocean’s pre-modern trading system. Known to Greek, Roman, Arab, and Chinese mariners for its cinnamon, pearls, and gemstones, the island linked the Red Sea to the South China Sea. Ports such as Mantai and Galle functioned as entrepôts where monsoon winds carried not only goods but also religions, technologies, and languages. This dual process of receiving and transmitting influence embedded Sri Lanka in the wider Indian Ocean cosmopolis.

The European intrusion in the 16th century transformed this fluid commercial world into a theatre of imperial rivalry. As Colvin R. de Silva (1953) aptly observed, the Portuguese—who were striving to command Indian Ocean trade by controlling its routes—were brought to the island by the vagaries of wind and waves in the early 16th century. The Portuguese, the Dutch, and finally the British successively recognised the island’s maritime centrality. Under British rule, Ceylon became a keystone of the empire: its harbours—especially Trincomalee and Colombo—served as vital coaling and refitting stations on the route between Suez and Singapore. The construction of Colombo Harbour in the late 19th century, coinciding with the rise of steam navigation and telegraphic communication, anchored the island firmly within Britain’s imperial “lifeline.”This colonial experience embedded a dual legacy: integration into global networks and exposure to external control. Control of the island equated to control of regional sea lanes—a reality that continues to shape strategic perceptions today.

Sri Lanka economic zone

The succession of European empires—Portuguese, Dutch, and British—transformed Sri Lanka’s maritime geography into a mechanism of control. The Portuguese first recognised its harbours as waypoints for the spice trade and fortified coastal towns to secure sea lanes to the East. The Dutch refined this logic, converting the island into a nodal point in their Indian Ocean trading network. For the British, Ceylon became a keystone of empire: its ports at Trincomalee and Colombo served as vital coaling stations on the Suez–Singapore route.

This long experience of being used rather than choosing in global strategy embedded a structural ambivalence toward external power. It cultivated a normative orientation that prized independence, neutrality, and moral legitimacy as shields against domination. When post-colonial leaders later championed non-alignment and the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace, they were, in effect, translating colonial memory into diplomatic doctrine. Geography had rendered the island visible; history had made its people wary. Thus, Sri Lanka’s contemporary strategy—balancing engagement with autonomy—cannot be understood without reference to the colonial imprint that both globalised and constrained it.

When Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948, it inherited not only the infrastructure but also the strategic consciousness of the empire. The early Cold War years turned the Indian Ocean into an arena of superpower rivalry, even as decolonisation swept across Asia and Africa. For Colombo, the central question was how to preserve autonomy in a world where global power blocs were rapidly forming.

Sri Lanka’s diplomatic identity first took shape in this immediate post-war Asian awakening. Even before formal independence, Ceylon participated in the Asian Relations Conference in New Delhi (March 1947)—a gathering convened by India’s Jawaharlal Nehru to imagine a post-colonial Asian order founded on peace, cooperation, and freedom from imperial domination. The Ceylon delegation, led by S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, was among the most articulate advocates of regional solidarity, emphasising that Asia’s reemergence must rest on moral and cultural foundations rather than military power. This early participation signalled Sri Lanka’s aspiration to act not merely as a small state but as a moral voice within the decolonising world.

The next milestone came with the Colombo Powers Conference of 1954, which brought together leaders from Ceylon, India, Burma, Indonesia, and Pakistan. Meeting in the wake of the Korean War and the first Indochina crisis, the Colombo Powers sought to craft a collective Asian position that resisted alignment with either superpower bloc. For Sri Lanka—then under Prime Minister Sir John Kotelawala—the meeting represented both continuity with its idealist beginnings and the start of pragmatic regional diplomacy. The Colombo Powers communiqué, balancing calls for disarmament with appeals for peaceful coexistence, foreshadowed the principles that would later underpin the Non-Aligned Movement.

The Bandung Conference of 1955 further consolidated this trajectory. Although Sri Lanka’s material power was limited, its participation alongside India, Indonesia, and Egypt reaffirmed its commitment to Afro–Asian solidarity and the pursuit of an independent foreign policy rooted in moral legitimacy. The Bandung spirit—cooperation, sovereignty, and resistance to neo-colonialism—resonated deeply in Colombo’s evolving worldview.

Thus, by the time Sri Lanka hosted the 1976 Non-Aligned Summit, its role was not incidental but the culmination of three decades of intellectual and diplomatic engagement. Non-alignment was not a borrowed doctrine; it was the institutionalisation of an outlook forged in the crucible of Asia’s post-colonial rebirth.

This stance was not merely rhetorical. Sri Lanka’s advocacy of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace, proposed at the United Nations in 1971, reflected a synthesis of these experiences: the conviction that security in the region could only be achieved through demilitarisation, dialogue, and balance. Yet, as the Cold War’s naval build-up intensified—from US bases in Diego Garcia to Soviet forays in the Arabian Sea—neutrality became both necessary and precarious.

The end of the Cold War temporarily reduced global attention to the Indian Ocean, but the rise of Asian economies in the 1990s and 2000s revived its centrality. As energy flows and trade routes expanded, Sri Lanka once again became a point of convergence. However, domestic civil conflict (1983–2009) diverted national focus inward even as foreign interest intensified.

The post-war period saw renewed geo-economic engagement—most visibly through large-scale infrastructure projects such as Hambantota Port and Colombo Port City, financed primarily by Chinese loans. These ventures tied Sri Lanka to Beijing’s Maritime Silk Road, prompting concerns about debt and strategic dependence. India, Japan, and the United States responded with their own initiatives, reactivating the familiar pattern of competing currents around the island.

The recent shift in discourse from “Indian Ocean Region” to “Indo-Pacific” has reframed Sri Lanka’s strategic environment. The new terminology—advanced by the United States, Japan, and Australia—integrates the Indian and Pacific Oceans into a single theatre of competition. For Sri Lanka, this dual exposure is both opportunity and risk. The Indo-Pacific framework enhances the island’s visibility as a maritime partner but also risks subsuming the Indian Ocean’s unique history within broader geopolitical rivalries.

A distinctly Sri Lankan perspective insists on viewing the Indian Ocean as an autonomous system with its own rhythms and interdependencies. In this view, smaller states are not passive bystanders but interpretive actors capable of reading and adjusting to global currents. Geography grants visibility; policy must grant resilience.

The metaphor of “currents of power” offers an analytical lens through which to interpret Sri Lanka’s experience. Military, economic, and normative forces intersect tangibly in its harbours, foreign policy, and diplomatic balancing acts. From colonial forts to modern port cities, each epoch has left its imprint on the island’s coastline.

By reading the ocean from the island, we re-centre maritime geopolitics around those states whose choices are most constrained yet most revealing. The Indian Ocean’s story is not solely that of great powers and naval empires—it is equally the story of small nations navigating vast systems. Sri Lanka’s challenge, as history suggests, is to convert exposure into advantage: to remain agile within a world of shifting tides. (Part II to be published tomorrow)

by Prof. Gamini Keerawella
It has always been a restless giant, this Indian Ocean: beautiful,
violent, and often mystifying. But today, symbolically at least, it simmers as never before.
Bert McDowell, National Geographic (1981)