Features
CEYLON SINCE INDEPENDENCE – ITS ADVENT
During the course of the Second World War, while defending her extensive empire in Asia, the British government sought to come to terms with nationalist forces in her dependencies of South Asia. Attempts were made in both India and Ceylon to negotiate a settlement of the constitutional problem with nationalist leaders and to give stability to the administration and strengthen the war effort. In India these protracted negotiations were a failure, because there was little common ground between the demands of the nationalists and the concessions proposed by the British. Disagreement between the two sections of the nationalist movement – the National Congress and the Muslim League – complicated matters further.
Similar efforts in Ceylon fared better, for the demands and attitudes of the nationalist leaders were more moderate, and the proposals of the British government were accepted without much ado. Both parties were agreed in principle as to the next step; the Ceylonese leaders, who were holding ministerial office, drafted a constitution along lines which were known to be agreeable to the colonial government. The process of reform was set in motion even while the war was on, and in July 1944 a commission was appointed, with Lord Soulbury as chairman, to examine the draft of the Ceylonese ministers, to receive other representations, and to recommend a constitution for Ceylon. The Soulbury Commission drafted a constitution that gave the island self-government in all matters of internal jurisdiction, retaining some safeguards to the British government in defense and the conduct of external affairs.
By the time the commission reported, the war had ended, and there was opportunity for a more concentrated attack on the problem. The Labour government, which was in power in Britain, decided to initiate a process of liberating those dependencies that were politically in a relatively advanced stage of development. India was to be given independence at whatever price. Political advance in Ceylon had been so closely connected with that of India that the decision to free India meant it was but a question of time before a similar decision would be applied to Ceylon.
At this moment the Ceylonese leaders urged politely but firmly that the last few restrictions to independence imposed by the Soulbury Constitution be done away with. The British government was receptive to these requests. It was convinced that the leaders with whom it negotiated and who were likely to hold power in Ceylon for some time to come would be friendly to British interests. A decision was taken to confer dominion status on Ceylon. The few powers reserved in the Soulbury Constitution for the imperial government were also transferred to the Ceylonese legislature. These changes were incorporated in the Ceylon Independence Act of 1947.
The constitution of independent Ceylon was modelled largely on the British constitution. It introduced the system of parliamentary government as evolved in Britain and extended to the other self-governing dominions. It was rather different from the experimental system of government by executive committees introduced by the Donoughmore Constitution of 1931. By that constitution executive and legislative functions had been vested in a single body. In the British system executive power rests in the hands of a body chosen from and responsible to the legislature, the two functions are kept separate.
The legislature of independent Ceylon was bicameral and comprised the House of Representatives and the Senate. The House of Representatives was directly elected by popular vote, and the Senate was in part elected by members of the popular House and in part nominated by the governor-general. The only restrictions to the power of lawmaking were the safeguards written into the constitution against discriminatory laws against particular religious or communal groups. The governor-general occupied a position akin to that of the British monarch and exercised similar constitutional functions. He was appointed by the British sovereign on the advice of the prime minister of Ceylon. His chief constitutional function was the appointment of the prime minister, who was called upon to form a government on the basis of the electoral results as reflected in the House of Representatives.
The governor-general summoned, prorogued, and dissolved Parliament. All executive acts performed by the ministers were done in his name. In a country where the party system had not been defined with the clarity and precision it had in Britain, the governor-general had some measure of influence in the appointment of the prime minister and in the general conduct of affairs. After the prime minister was appointed from the largest political grouping in the lower house, he selected his ministers, who were then officially appointed to their positions by the governor-general. These ministers together formed the Cabinet, which was collectively responsible for the government of the country. Their power was sustained by a majority in Parliament; if they lost that majority, they would have to resign their offices.
The conventions observed in the conduct of affairs within the Cabinet and in the relation between Cabinet and Parliament were those of the United Kingdom. Proposals put forward by a minister were scrutinized and passed by the Cabinet and became the collective decision of the government. Legislation to give effect to these proposals was drafted by officials and presented to Parliament, where the government majority ensured its passage. On assent by the governor-general, it was enacted as law.
As in the United Kingdom, both by convention and by law, the attempt was made to separate the political section of the government from the administrative. The appointment, promotion, and dismissal of government officers of a higher grade was under a Public Service Commission which was directly responsible to the governor general. It was thus theoretically impossible for the ministers to interfere with appointments to the public service. A similar Judicial Services Commission functioned in relation to officers in the country’s judiciary.
The constitutional structure set up was thus a ready-made and comprehensive one and provided the machinery for a smooth transition from colonial rule to independence, It was a structure with which the Ceylonese leadership was familiar, if only through the pages of textbooks on the British constitution. Though the previous constitution operating in Ceylon had not been quite so closely modelled on these principles, some of the elements of the parliamentary system were already there. Most of the politicians who were preening themselves to take power in the new dispensation had already acquired considerable experience in political affairs.
The political institutions being Western, and the conduct of affairs mainly through the medium of English, it was the English-educated intelligentsia that produced the political leaders from the time that these representative institutions were introduced. Electoral results show that even the most remote rural districts chose members of this class to represent them in the legislature. The largely illiterate or semi-literate peasantry that formed the bulk of the population were not in a position to put up leaders of their own class and therefore had necessarily to choose members of the urban middle class who came forward and offered themselves as leaders.
Some of these men had the added advantage of having previously functioned as ministers under the old constitution and thus had already grappled with problems of government. A few of the leaders at the top had handled the delicate negotiations with the imperial government and had so impressed the latter by their qualities of statesmanship that even without popular clamour for independence the British government was persuaded that the Ceylonese could now manage their own destiny. All this experience was to be a great asset in the process of working out the new constitution and the fully self-governing status it conferred.
These new leaders had a common background of English education, though they came from widely different walks of life. Some of them belonged to the old landowning aristocracy and still held considerable land in their constituencies. They thus enjoyed the influence that went with their traditional family connections and had equipped themselves for leadership in the new age by imbibing the new ideas that the Westerner had brought. A totally different group was the “new rich,” those who had benefited from the economic opportunities opened by the British and had emerged as a native entrepreneur class with varying degrees of success. The rest belonged to the different professions, all of which had involved study of the English language. Predominant among these were the lawyers, who, as in contemporary India, provided more than their share of recruits for political leadership.
The common educational background and the values and ideals they shared gave homogeneity to this new leadership. Fundamentally, Ceylonese society was divided into a plurality of communal and religious units. These units were certainly not, at this stage, hostile to each other, nor did they have very much in common with each other. One could talk fruitfully of a Ceylonese nation only in terms of the English-educated intelligentsia. At this level, both socially and intellectually, took place the mixing of communal groups and the merging of communal differences. This westernized elite rose above the divisive factors in society and indeed gradually presented themselves as yet another of its many component groups. The one advantage was that its members were drawn from all parts of the island, all language groups, and all religions. They ran the administrative services of the country, taught in its schools, and strongly supported the political leadership of their English-speaking compatriots. Together they would ensure the smooth working of the new political institutions and the pursuit of certain ideals which they would seek to impart to the mass of the people.
In the process of making the constitution, a separate organization was formed to represent the interests of the Tamils. This demanded a formula of balanced representation to safeguard minority communities against domination by the Sinhalese majority. This organization, the Tamil Congress, was popular in North Ceylon, where the Tamils were concentrated. But many members of the English-educated section of the Tamils dissociated themselves from the Tamil Congress and grasped the hand of friendship offered by the Sinhalese. Furthermore, leaders of other minority communities willingly offered their cooperation to the Sinhalese. In the first Cabinet of in dependent Ceylon, all the major communities were represented.
Compared to the other countries that secured release from British tutelage at about the same time – India, Pakistan, and Burma – Ceylon’s economic situation may be described as sound. The average income of about 300 rupees per person per annum at this period compared favourably with that of most other Asian countries except Japan. The plantation sector of the country’s agriculture was doing well ell and fetching good prices in world markets. Tea, rubber, and coconut – all in good demand in world markets at that time – were the major exports and provided about 90 per cent of the country’s earnings of foreign exchange. No doubt, during the war much of the rubber had been slaughter-tapped to meet immediate needs, but there were great possibilities for future development. Tea estates were being managed excellently by British firms and by those few Ceylonese capitalists who had of late been investing in tea. During the war Ceylon had earned a lot of sterling – over a thousand million rupees – which, if managed carefully, could be utilized for the country’s economic development. There would be no lack of foreign exchange to undertake and finance long-term developmental projects.
The war had also been a disguised blessing in the matter of the production of food grains in the country. Earlier, the emphasis had been decidedly on cash crops; over 50 per cent of the rice consumed in the country had to be imported. Because of the interruption of the usual sources of supply and the difficulties of overseas trade, a great effort was made during the war to produce rice and other subsidiary crops. The increase in food prices gave added incentive to such activity, which was enthusiastically undertaken in the villages. The new government could make use of this enthusiasm and lend its strong support to this neglected aspect of the country’s economy.
There had also been a great improvement in the country’s health services during wartime. When Ceylon became the seat of the South East Asia Command, a large number of troops were stationed in all parts of the country. Thus, remote and inaccessible villages received attention they had not had before, and diverse modern amenities were made available to them. Among the most valuable of these was the concentrated fight against malaria, which had been the scourge of the Ceylonese peasant. The success of this campaign was seen in a significant drop in the incidence of this disease by 1947.
Nor was the educational level of the people at the time of independence discouraging. Roughly 60 per cent of the people were literate, if literacy in given its broadest definition. The school system was well organized, and, by an act of 1944, the state undertook the full cost of education in the country. Tuition fees were waived for all students from the kindergarten to the university. Though this was only a part of the costs incurred by a student for his education, it was no doubt a great blessing in a country of low incomes and large families. Teachers in all schools, government and private, were paid by the state.
It thus seemed that the outlook was bright when Ceylon was launched as an independent state in February 1948. There was every prospect that the democratic tradition would take root and that the country would progress toward material prosperity and contentment. Ceylon seemed to represent the ideal of advance from colonial status to a free nation. A closer look at the scene, however, showed some ominous portents.
It is an important feature of the political scene in Ceylon that its independence was achieved by negotiation and amicable discussions. The conference room and the council chamber were the scenes of activity, in contrast to the public demonstrations and civil disturbances of India. There was no occasion to associate and involve the masses in the struggle and to infuse in them the nationalistic emotion that would encourage them to make sacrifices in the cause of independence. The nationalist parties that were in existence toward the end of British rule spent more of their time fighting each other than fighting the colonial government and therefore did not see the need to enlist the active support of the masses on nationalist issues. Electoral battles of these years were mainly personal affairs fought on parochial lines. None of the parties had grass roots organizations on the village level. One has only to compare the two National Congresses, the Indian and the Ceylonese, to see the way in which the former towered over Indian politics from the date of its formation and the latter competed weakly with numerous other parties and died a natural death when independence was declared.
The manner in which the political negotiations for independence were carried out has given the impression that what happened in February 1948, was a private transfer of control from colonial rule into the hands of an oligarchy. The power elite at this time consisted of a few families from the dominant sectors of society. No doubt this oligarchy was confirmed in power by popular vote in 1947, but it was still an oligarchy in the sense that no outsiders could get into it. People who held the highest offices were connected by family ties, and the structure of politics resembled somewhat the politics of England under George III.
An even more important drawback arose from the fact that, by the very nature of politics and the political institutions, only the English-educated could aspire to power. Parliamentary government, freedom of the individual, and the whole structure of new ideas were comprehensible to them and them alone. With universal adult suffrage, every individual of the country had been emancipated and brought within the ambit of political power. Yet 95 per cent of the population could not aspire to positions of power because they were not equipped to acquire power and use it. They had been content since 1931, when adult franchise was introduced, to select their leaders from a class which was alien to them. How long they would remain so was another matter. When they comprehended the democratic process and saw to what use they might put it, they would no longer want to rely on the English-educated elite to represent them and manage their affairs.
The westernized elite was not different from the masses only in that they read, wrote, and spoke English. What was more disturbing was the cultural cleavage that separated them from the majority of the people. They had become a separate caste with some of the characteristics that separated traditional castes from each other. Their way of life, their dress, their speech, their cultural interests were different from those of the rest of the country. Most members of this clan had uprooted themselves from their traditional milieu and suffered the little that remained to tie them to traditional society like millstones stound their necks. Some of them had adopted Western culture and found satisfaction and happiness in it. Others were cultural “mongrels” or, at best, cosmopolitans indecisively trying to fuse aspects of diverse and often conflicting cultures.
Society was thus deeply divided in two: the English-educated and the others. Those not educated in English were condemned to subordinate roles in society. This was satisfactory so long as the mass of the people selected as their leaders members of the westernized oligarchy who were, after all, better equipped to administer the country’s affairs. This is what happened for a decade after independence, and it was found to work well. But it is useful here to recognize the malaise of Ceylon’s democracy at the time it was launched and to understand this source of discontent in the subsequent developments of the island’s history.
The westernized power elite that took over the leadership of the country was naturally oriented toward the West and looked to Britain for its lead in many matters. Its leaders could describe the island as a “little bit of England” and take pride in this description. British interests continued to dominate the country’s economy. A large part of the plantation sector was owned and managed by British companies, as was also a major share of the country’s trade and industry. The presence of British armed forces was insured by a defense agreement between the governments of the United Kingdom and Ceylon permitting the British to maintain their forces in Ceylon for its defense. This meant, among other things, that the large airfield at Katunayake and the beautiful natural harbour of Trincomalee continued to be under British control.
If the new leadership felt that it could ignore these factors, it was making a serious miscalculation. It was true that anti-British nationalism had never been born as a mass phenomenon in Ceylon. The absence of mass involvement in nationalist policies was both a cause and a symptom of this factor. Yet the continued physical presence of the British could become a source of irritation to nationalist sentiment. Unless the new government concentrated pressure for the gradual removal of the British, the latter’s presence was likely to be used by nationalist politicians as a weapon of attack against the whole new structure.
Indeed, there was already a point of view being voiced that the independence granted in 1948 was “fake”, that “real” independence could only be won with the removal of the Commonwealth links, as Burma had chosen to do. All British troops should quit the country, and no bases and other facilities should be granted to them. No doubt this was as yet a minority viewpoint and was limited in its circulation. The masses were neither overenthusiastic nor terribly disappointed at the tum of events.
For the successful working of the new constitution, a healthy party system had to develop. This was just beginning, all too shakily. The splinter groups that gathered around influential personalities in the Donoughmore era would not do now. Strong, vigorous political parties with firm and identifiable policies and leadership were required. No doubt the elite, as seen earlier, was familiar with the functioning of the parliamentary system in Britain. But in the actual task of making this system work there were found other difficulties inherent in Ceylonese society. In this respect, the effect of the whole Donoughmore structure had been against the growth of strong parties. Under the executive committee system, it had been unnecessary to attach oneself to a political party – in fact it might have been a handicap to do so. The spirit of compromise so essential to the formation of a party had not developed. It was impossible to produce this overnight.
A significant step was taken when the legatees of political power organised themselves into the United National Party (UNP) under the leadership of Mr. D. S. Senanayake. Into this party came members of many groups, communal and otherwise, of the Donoughmore era. Its major constituent units were the Ceylon National Congress, the Sinhala Maha Sabha, and the Muslim League. Most of the other non-party politicians from all sectors of society decided to join this party also. Being assured of a tenure of political power, it assumed the aspect of a bandwagon; drawing to it people of diverse political origin, some of whom had no idea that politics had anything to do with principles, this coalition still had to be shaped into a meaningful political grouping. Being the governing party, it had to acquire a political philosophy, a policy, and a sense of disciplined behaviour.
Outside the UNP were a number of smaller parties unrelated to each other. On the far left were three Marxist parties – the Lanka Sama Samajist Party (LSSP), the Bolshevik Leninist Party, and the Communist Party – divided among themselves on both ideological and personal grounds. Quite different from these parties of the left were two communal organizations representing two of the island’s minority communities. The Tamil Congress sought to represent those Tamils who had been domiciled in Ceylon for centuries. This party was dissatisfied with the weight given to minorities under the new constitution. Its aim was to unite the Tamils under one flag so that they could put pressure on the Sinhalese and resist any encroachment on their rights. The Ceylon Indian Congress represented the interests of the Tamils who had immigrated to Ceylon within the last hundred years. The bulk of them were plantation workers, from whom the main strength of this party was drawn.
Thus, on the eve of independence there was available a political party to take up the reins of office. But for the efficient working of parliamentary government it is not sufficient that there be a party in office; there should also be a strong party in opposition. The idea of an alternative government is crucial to the British type of representative rule that was being introduced into Ceylon. The distressing factor on the Ceylonese political scene was the absence of such an alternate party wedded to the idea of a democratic alternative to the government in power.
The communal parties were all too restricted in their scope and aims to have any effect on a national level. The leftist parties were committed to revolutionary action in diverse forms and would not take the parliamentary scene very seriously. There were a large number of independent politicians not attached to any party, but they were only waiting to make up their minds after they knew which party would form the government. The absence of a national democratic alternative in the first post-war elections of 1947 was a serious drawback in the democratic process. The resultant absence of constructive criticism of government policy was bound to produce an attitude of smugness among governing circles.
The Marxist left, both communist and non-communist, is an interesting phenomenon of this period. It was a by-product of the study and understanding of Western political thought and institutions that had been introduced under British rule. Its leadership was drawn from the very same English-educated class that produced the ruling oligarchy. Some of these intellectuals had come under the influence of Marxian socialist ideas while studying in British universities. When they returned home they collected a following of young men with left-wing political views. They formed the LSSP in 1935 as a socialist party professing the Marxist approach. When Leon Trotsky was expelled from the Soviet Union after his differences with the Soviet Communists, the Ceylon socialists of the LSSP chose to follow his interpretation of Marxism and become Trotskyite in their orientation.
This divided the party into two factions, and with the Nazi Soviet Pact of 1939 this split was brought to a head. The faction which followed the official Soviet line faithfully through every change and turn broke away to become the Communist Party associated with the Comintern. The LSSP continued as an independent socialist party and developed connections with the Trotskyite Fourth International formed, with its headquarters in Paris, as a rival to the Comintern. In 1945 it divided again when a faction left to form the Bolshevik-Leninist Party. Thus, the brief history of the left movement has been dogged by disunity on both theoretical and personal issues. None of these parties was individually of such strength as to challenge the ruling party. Their influence was restricted to urban areas of the western coast and working-class concentrations. They lacked the organization and the appeal to expand their activities on a nation-wide basis.
The leftist parties, if they could not provide a constructive alternative to the ruling party, could always be of nuisance value. Their strength and energies were concentrated among the urban working classes. Though these were still a small minority of the total population, their role in the country’s economy was an important one. From its inception, the Marxist movement worked among these people and sought to win them over. Workers in industry, commerce, and transport were organised into labour unions under the aegis of one of the three leftist parties. Thus, trade unionism in Ceylon became politically oriented, and this remained an important factor in the development of independent Ceylon.
It also meant the introduction of rival unions in the same trade affiliated to different parties of the left. It paved the way for the use of trade union strength for political purposes. The strike of government clerks for full trade union rights in 1947 was an indication of an awareness of this strength. The support of the working classes, including the “white collar” workers, was alienated from the new government and distributed among parties that were wedded to a program of revolutionary action and denial of the constitutional structure. It was an ill omen for the young demoсrасу.
The elections of 1947 resulted in the formation of a government led by Senanayake. Though the party he headed won only 42 seats in a house of 101, with the support of some of the 21 “independent” members elected and the six nominated by the Governor, he was able to secure a working majority. On the 4th of February 4, 1948, the independent constitution was inaugurated by the Duke of Gloucester acting on behalf of the Queen of Great Britain, and Ceylon became a dominion. Thus began a 10-year period of rule by the United National Party. These years are a distinct phase of the island’s history and must be discussed separately.
by S. Arasaratnam
(to be continued next week)
Features
Pay attention or pay the price: Sri Lanka’s maritime imperative in a fractured ocean
Sri Lanka stands at a geopolitical crossroads where geography is both its greatest asset and its most vulnerable liability. Sitting astride the Indian Ocean’s critical east-west highway, the waters, south of Dondra Head, channel nearly 30% of the world’s maritime trade. This route is the arterial vein connecting Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. Yet, as tensions flare in the Middle East and great power competition intensifies, Sri Lanka finds itself guarding a highway it does not own, with an economy too fragile to absorb the shocks of collateral damage.
Recent analyses, including insights from the Financial Times on the fragility of global ocean governance, offer a stark warning: international treaties alone cannot guarantee security. The newly enacted UN Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) treaty may be a diplomatic triumph, but as major powers, like the US, sidestep commitments, while China seeks strategic influence, the high seas are becoming increasingly lawless. For Sri Lanka, relying on international law to protect its 600,000 km² Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), is a strategy destined to fail. The moment demands a shift from passive reliance to active resilience.
The Naval Imperative: Sovereignty requires strength
The first pillar of survival is a robust Navy. The FT report highlights that without enforcement mechanisms, marine protected areas become “paper parks.” Similarly, an EEZ without patrol capacity is merely a line on a map. With Sri Lanka’s Navy having just rescued 32 Iranian sailors from the sunken frigate IRIS Dena, following a US submarine strike in nearby international waters, and additional Iranian vessels now seeking assistance, or operating in the region, amid major powers vying for influence, the risk of direct incidents at sea remains very real.
Sri Lanka must accelerate investment in blue-water naval capacity and EEZ surveillance. Strengthening patrols, south of Dondra Head, is not just about conservation, it is about sovereignty. The ability to manage rescue operations, grant diplomatic clearances, and monitor traffic, without external coercion, is the definition of independence. “Might is right” remains the operating principle for some superpowers. Sri Lanka cannot afford to be a bystander in its own waters. A strong Navy acts as a deterrent, ensuring that the 30% of global shipping passing nearby does not become a theatre for proxy conflicts.
Statecraft: Balancing economics and sovereignty
The second pillar is nuanced statecraft. Sri Lanka imports nearly 100% of its fuel, making it hypersensitive to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz. Prolonged conflict in the Middle East will spike oil prices, reigniting inflation and threatening the hard-won economic stability following recent crises. However, economic desperation must not drive diplomatic misalignment.
The smartest priority is strict neutrality. Sri Lanka cannot afford to alienate any major partner – the US, India, China, Iran, or the Gulf states. Coordinating quietly with India for maritime domain awareness is prudent given proximity, but joining any military bloc is perilous. Recent discussions highlight how the US aggressively prioritises resource extraction in international waters, often at the expense of broader environmental protections. Sri Lanka must navigate these competing agendas without becoming a pawn. Publicly urging de-escalation, through forums like the Indian Ocean Rim Association (IORA), allows Colombo to advocate for safe passage without picking sides.
Securing the economy and energy future
The third pillar is economic shielding. The immediate threat is fuel security. The government must build emergency fuel stocks and negotiate alternative suppliers to buffer against Hormuz disruptions. The Central Bank must be prepared to manage rupee pressure as import bills swell. Furthermore, monitoring secondary effects is crucial; higher shipping costs will hit exports like tea and garments, while tourism warnings could dampen arrival numbers.
Long-term resilience demands energy diversification, prioritising solar power. Sri Lanka’s abundant sunshine offers huge potential to cut reliance on Middle Eastern oil and shield the economy from geopolitical shocks. Accelerate rooftop/utility-scale solar with incentives: duty exemptions on equipment, enhanced net-metering, subsidies/loans for households and businesses, and fast-tracked approvals plus battery storage support. This attracts investment, creates jobs, and boosts energy security. Secure financier confidence for sustainable blue economy initiatives without compromising sovereignty.
The bottom line
The message for Sri Lanka is clear: This is a “pay attention or pay the price” moment. The country is geographically positioned on the critical Indian Ocean highway but remains economically fragile. The smartest priorities are to protect people first, secure the seas second, and shield the economy third, all while staying strictly neutral.
Any misstep, whether getting drawn into naval incidents or visibly picking sides in a great power struggle, would be far costlier than the fuel price hike itself. The global oceans treaty may offer a framework for cooperation, but as experts warn, we need “systems of co-operation that go beyond the mere words on the page.” For Sri Lanka, those systems must be built on national capacity, diplomatic agility, and an unwavering commitment to neutrality. The ocean is rising with tension; Sri Lanka must ensure it does not drown in the wake.
Reference:
“The geopolitics of the global oceans treaty”https://www.ft.com/content/563bef02-f4a7-42c3-9cfa-7c3fe51be1eb
By Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com
Features
Winds of Change:Geopolitics at the crossroads of South and Southeast Asia
Asanga Abeyagoonasekera’s latest book is a comprehensive account of international relations in the regions it covers, with particular reference to current rivalries between India and China and the United States. It deals with shifting alliances, or rather alliances that grow stronger or weaker through particular developments: there are no actual breaks in a context in which the three contestants for power in the region are wooing or threatening smaller countries, moving seamlessly from one mode to the other though generally in diplomatic terms.
The area is now widely referred to as the Indo-Pacific. Though that term was coined over a hundred years ago by a German keen to challenge the Anglo-American hegemony that triumphed after the First World War, it gained currency more recently, following a speech by the hawkish Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, who was instrumental in developing the Quad Alliance between Japan, India, the United States and Australia.
This marked a radical change in Indian Foreign Policy, for India had prided itself previously on being Non-Aligned, while the West saw it as close to the Soviet Union and then to Russa. But as Abeyagoonasekera constantly reiterates, India’s approach is governed now by nervousness about China, which in the last couple of decades has made deep inroads into the Indian Ocean. Now many states around this Ocean, relatively far from China, are being closely connected, economically but also otherwise, with China.
Instrumental in this development is the Belt and Road Initiative, which China has used to develop infrastructure in the region, designed to facilitate its own trade, but also the trade of the countries that it has assisted. Abeyagoonasekera is clear throughout the book that the initiative has been of great assistance to the recipient countries, and contests vigorously the Western claim that it was designed as a debt trap to control those countries.
I fully endorse this view. To supplement his perspective with a couple of anecdotes, I recall a British friend in Cambodia telling me how the country had benefited from Chinese support, which developed infrastructure – whereas the West in those days concentrated on what it called capacity building, which meant supporting those who shared its views through endless seminars in expensive hotels, a practice with which we are familiar in this country too.
Soon afterwards I met a very articulate taxi driver in Ethiopia, who had come home from England, where he had worked for many years, who described the expansion of its road network. This had been neglected for years, until the Chinese turned up. I remembered then a Dutchman at a conference talking about the sinister nature of a plane full of Chinese businessmen, to which an African responded in irritation that the West had applauded the plunder of the continent by their own businessmen, and that the Africans now knew better and could ensure some benefit to themselves as the owners of the commodities the West had long thought their own birthright.
Abeyagoonasekera contrasts with the Chinese approach the frugality of the Indians, a frugality born of relative poverty, and appends the general suspicions with which Indian interventions are treated, given previous efforts at domination. And while he is himself markedly diplomatic in his accounts of the different approaches of the three players in this game, time and time again he notes the effortless ease with which the Chinese have begun to dominate the field.
His research has been thorough, and the statistics he cites about trade make clear that the Chinese are streets ahead of the other two, both in terms of balances as well as in absolute terms. And he notes too that, whereas the Western discourse is of Chinese restrictions on freedom, in Sri Lanka at any rate it is the others who are wary of transparency.
Though he notes that there is no clarity about the agreements the current government has entered into with the Indians, and that contrary to what might have been expected from former Marxists it has not resumed the tilt towards China of earlier left wing regimes, he shows that there has been no break with China. He seems to believe that the groundwork China laid still gives hope of more economic development than what the other two countries have to offer.
We cannot after all forget that the Rajapaksa government first asked India to develop the Hambantota port, and I still recall the Indian High Commissioner at the time, Ashok Kantha, wondering whether India had erred in not taking up the offer. In a marked example of how individuals affect bilateral relations, I have no doubt his predecessor, the effusive Alok Prasad, would have taken up the offer.
It was Rajapaksa hubris that made the cost of the port escalate, for when the rock inside the breakwaters was discovered, before the harbour was filled, and Mahinda Rajapaksa was told it would not cost much to get rid of it, he preferred to have the opening on his birthday as scheduled, which meant the waters then had to be drained away for the rock to be dynamited. And unfortunately, planning being left to the younger brother, we had grandiose buildings in the town, instead of the infrastructure that would have ensured greater economic activity.
This error was repeated in spades with regard to Mattala. Though not in the right place, which was not the case with the Hambantota development, nothing was done to take advantage of the location such as it was and institute swift connections with the hill country, the East Coast, and the wildlife so abundant in the area.
The last section of the book, after its thorough examination of the activities of the three major players in the region as a whole, deals with Sri Lanka’s Domestic Political Challenges, and records, politely but incisively, the endless blunders that have brought us lower and lower. But while highlighting the callousness of politicians, he also notes how efforts to appease the West weakened what he describes as core protections.
Though there has been much speculation about what exactly brought down Gotabaya Rajapaksa – not his government, for that in essence continued, with a different leader – perhaps the most far-reaching revelation in Abeyagoonasekera’s book is of Gotabaya’s conviction that it was the CIA that destroyed him. As so often when the hidden hand of the West is identified, the local contributions are ignored, as Gotabaya’s absurd energy policy, and the ridiculous tax concessions with which his rule began. But that does not mean there were no other players in the game.
Ironically, Gotabaya’s accusations against the United States occur after a startling passage in which Abeyagoonasekera declares of that country that ‘The fatigue gripping the nation is deeper than weariness; it is a spiritual exhaustion, a slow erosion of belief. Rising prices, policy paralysis, and a fractured foreign policy have left America adrift. Inflation haunts them like a spectre, while the immigrant crisis stirs frustrations in communities already stretched to their limits’.
This he claims explains the re-emergence of Donald Trump. Now, in the midst of the horrors Trump has perpetrated, this passage suggests that he is desperate to assert himself in denial of the fatigue that has overcome a nation initially built on idealism, now in the throes of ruthless cynicism. What will follow I do not know. But the manner in which India’s slavishness to the bullying of Netanyahu and Trump has destroyed the moral stature it once had suggests that Abeyagoonasekera’s nuanced but definite adulation of Chinese policy will be a hallmark of the new world order.
By Rajiva Wijesinha
Features
Human–Elephant conflict in Sri Lanka
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka results in significant loss of human life, elephant deaths, and extensive damage to crops and property. Despite numerous interventions over the decades, the situation continues to deteriorate. The reasons for the breakdown of what was once a relatively tolerant coexistence—albeit one dominated by humans—into an increasingly confrontational relationship must be clearly understood by both the public and policymakers. Immediate measures are required to minimise losses, alongside long-term solutions grounded in sound ecological and governance principles. It must also be recognised that this is a complex problem; effective mitigation and sustainable solutions require a multidisciplinary approach integrated into the country’s overall development planning. This article examines several cost-effective methods that have been successfully implemented in other countries and may apply to the Sri Lankan context.
Key Challenge: Lack of Reliable Data
The primary reason for the escalation of human–elephant conflict (HEC) is the shrinking of wildlife habitats in the country due to poorly planned development and uncontrolled, unwise land encroachment. A major barrier to effective intervention is the lack of accurate and comprehensive data in two key areas: (a) land and land utilisation, and (b) the elephant population and their range.
It became evident after the Ditwah cyclone disaster that the lack of readily accessible, reliable data on land and its use, is a major obstacle to a wide range of project planning and implementation efforts. Regardless of how HEC is mitigated, the government must take immediate action to establish a digital land-use database, as this is a key component of long-term planning for any development initiative. Using modern aerial mapping technologies, it should be possible to catalogue the geography and utilisation of every square metre of the island’s landmass.
Similarly, accurate data on the number of elephants, their age and gender distribution, and the extent of their habitat range, are essential for data-driven decision-making. Here, too, modern technology offers practical solutions. Land-based digital cameras have been successfully used to count elephants, identify individual animals, and monitor their range. Research has shown that the pigmentation patterns of Asian elephants—particularly those on their ears—can serve as a “fingerprint” for identifying individuals. The same technique can also be used to study elephant movement patterns and habitat range. Computer programmes already exist for such cataloguing purposes; however, developing a similar programme, locally, could be both economical and educational, for example, as part of a university IT programme. Since data-driven decision-making is key to the success of any long-term strategy, data collection must begin immediately while short-term mitigation measures are implemented.
Root cause
There must be a general understanding of how this problem has worsened. Sri Lanka is considered an anomaly in island biogeography for supporting a high density of megafauna—including Asian elephants, leopards, and sloth bears—on a relatively small landmass of about 65,000 square kilometres. This is further complicated by the country’s high human population density, estimated at about 356–372 people per square kilometre, ranking among the highest in the world. The human population has increased more than fivefold between 1900 and 2024, from about 4.5 million to nearly 22 million.
The corresponding expansion of land use for human settlement, agriculture, and infrastructure development has placed enormous pressure on wildlife habitats. Habitat loss, together with imbalances in predator populations, has resulted not only in escalating human–elephant conflict (HEC) but also in increasing crop damage caused by peacocks, monkeys, giant squirrels, and feral pigs. The Sri Lankan elephant has no natural predators; its only significant threat arises from human activities. Restoring balance within this complex ecological system is no easy task, yet it must remain the long-term objective if the country is to safeguard its unique biodiversity.
Short-term Measures
Since the current situation has developed over an extended period, practical and humane solutions will also take time to implement. In the short term, several interventions can reduce direct interactions between humans and elephants while ensuring the safety of both:
* Strict prohibition of roadside feeding and improved waste management.
* Public education on safe deterrence methods and the promotion of ethical and sustainable practices in forests, national parks, and sanctuaries.
* The use of proven, non-lethal deterrent methods implemented in a coordinated and systematic manner.
* Anti-depredation squads (ADS): well-trained response teams tasked with implementing and monitoring these measures.
* The use of AI-based technologies to prevent train–elephant collisions.
Several countries have successfully used chilli as a deterrent to keep elephants away from farms and settlements. While cultivating chilli as a crop may contribute to this effort, it alone is not an effective deterrent; the pungent compounds in chilli, which act as an irritant to elephants, must be delivered effectively. One widely used and economical method is chilli-grease fencing, an alternative to electric fencing. In this method, rags soaked in a mixture of ground chilli and used motor oil are hung from ropes in strategic locations to create a deterrent barrier.
More advanced deterrence techniques have also been tested. For example, compressed-air launchers that fire chilli-filled projectiles have demonstrated effectiveness in safely redirecting elephants from a distance without causing harm. In some countries, locally made projectiles containing chilli powder, sand, and firecrackers enclosed in flexible sheaths, such as rubber balloons, are ignited and launched ahead of approaching animals. When combined with strobe lights, air horns, or other noise-making devices, these methods have been found to be even more effective. Over time, elephants may learn to associate irritation with light and sound, allowing these signals alone to act as deterrents. The main limitation of this approach is the need for well-trained personnel available throughout the day. Therefore, the involvement of existing national services—such as the armed forces—in developing and implementing such systems should be considered.
Technology can also play an important role in reducing train–elephant collisions. Night-vision cameras mounted on trains, combined with artificial intelligence, could be used not only to detect elephants but also to identify patterns in elephant movements near railway tracks. Once such high-risk locations are mapped, additional cameras could be installed along the tracks to transmit warning signals to approaching trains when elephants are detected nearby. As a further step, this system could be integrated with the Driver’s Safety Device (DSD)—the “dead man’s” handle or pedal—so that trains can be automatically stopped when elephants are detected on or near the tracks, thereby reducing reliance solely on driver response.
Sustainable Long-Term Solutions
A lasting resolution depends on strategic land-use planning and coexistence-based management. This must form part of a broader national discussion on the sustainable use of the country’s limited land resources.
* Protection and restoration of elephant migration corridors.
* Data-driven placement and maintenance of fencing, rather than attempting to confine elephants within fixed areas.
* Strengthened management of wildlife reserves, including the prevention of human encroachment and uncontrolled cattle grazing.
* Habitat improvement within forests to reduce the attraction of elephants to agricultural lands.
* Introduction of drought-resistant grass varieties such as Cenchrus purpureus (commonly known as elephant grass or Napier grass) and Pennisetum purpureum in wildlife refuges and national parks to alleviate food shortages during the dry season.
* Population control measures, including vaccine-based methods, supported by reliable population data.
Public education on the importance of maintaining ecological balance—especially amid environmental change and expanding economic development—must also be a key priority. Basic principles of environmental management should be incorporated into higher education across all disciplines. At the same time, difficult but necessary questions must be asked about the long-term sustainability and economic return of certain land-use patterns, particularly those shaped during the colonial period for plantation crops. Inefficient agricultural practices, such as chena cultivation, should be phased out, and the clearing of wilderness—especially in ecologically sensitive highland areas for tourism development—must be strictly regulated.
Elephants typically travel between 15 and 50 kilometres a day. Therefore, restoring uninterrupted elephant corridors, linking existing wildlife reserves, must be a central component of long-term planning. In some cases, this may require carefully considering the relocation of human settlements that have developed within former elephant corridors.
Unfortunately, rural communities often bear a disproportionate share of the burden created by these conservation measures. It is, therefore, essential that policies ensure they receive a fair share of the economic benefits generated by wildlife-based industries, particularly tourism. Such policies should aim to help these communities transition from subsistence livelihoods toward improved standards of living. In this context, a critical evaluation of existing agricultural systems must form part of a broader national land-management strategy. Put plainly, the long-term viability of plantation industries, such as tea and rubber, should be assessed in terms of their return on investment—particularly the investment of scarce land resources.
Finally, all ecosystems have a carrying capacity, meaning there is a limit to the number of people and animals that a given area of land can sustain. This issue extends beyond Sri Lanka; many scientists argue that, given current levels of malnutrition and resource depletion, the planet may already have exceeded its sustainable carrying capacity. Others suggest that technological advances and lifestyle changes may increase that capacity. In either case, significant changes in human consumption patterns and lifestyles are likely to become inevitable.
For elephants, however, the absence of natural predators means that humane human intervention may be required to manage population growth sustainably. If elephant populations were allowed to increase unchecked, food scarcity could lead to malnutrition and starvation among the animals themselves. At the same time, a nation, already struggling with child malnutrition, must carefully balance its limited resources between human welfare and wildlife conservation.
One promising approach is immunological sterilisation using the Porcine Zona Pellucida (PZP) vaccine, a reversible and humane form of immunocontraception used in wildlife population management. By stimulating antibodies that prevent sperm from fertilising eggs, this dart-delivered vaccine controls reproduction without significantly altering the animals’ natural behaviour. Once accurate data are obtained on the age and gender distribution of the Sri Lankan elephant population, the systematic application of such methods could become feasible.
Moreover, the development of local capacity to produce such vaccines should be encouraged. Similar technologies could also be applied to manage populations of other animals—such as monkeys and stray dogs—whose numbers can become problematic if left unchecked. Local vaccine production would not only address domestic needs but could potentially create opportunities for export and scientific collaboration.
Conclusion
Human–elephant conflict (HEC) in Sri Lanka is intensifying due to habitat fragmentation, unplanned development, and weak governance. Elephants require large, connected landscapes to survive, and when traditional migration corridors are blocked, conflict becomes inevitable.
Current ineffective practices—such as the mass translocation of elephants, fragmented fencing that obstructs migration routes, and policies that overlook the livelihoods of rural communities—must be reconsidered and replaced with more effective strategies. Mechanisms must also be established to ensure that the economic benefits of environmental protection, particularly those generated by wildlife tourism, are fairly shared with rural populations who bear the greatest burden of living alongside wildlife.
A shift toward data-driven planning, protection of ecological corridors, community partnerships, and stronger institutional accountability is essential. The human–elephant conflict is not solely a wildlife issue; it is fundamentally a land-use and governance challenge. Sri Lanka would benefit from establishing a dedicated Human–Elephant Coexistence Organisation, or from strengthening an existing Wildlife Commission with the authority and capacity to implement long-term, science-based management strategies.
With informed policies and genuine support for affected communities, peaceful coexistence between humans and elephants is both achievable and sustainable. Ultimately, educating future generations and equipping them to face emerging environmental challenges with knowledge and responsibility is the most effective long-term strategy.
BY Geewananda Gunawardana and Chula Goonasekera
on behalf of LEADS forum
Email admin@srilankaleads.com
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