Features
IN RETROSPECT
by Dr Nihal Jayawickrama
I had always thought that autobiographies were written after retirement. I hope this request from the LAW MEDIA for the story of my life, or more particularly, my experiences before Hong Kong, is not a gentle reminder that my time is up. I prefer to think that you simply wish to get to know better the only South Asian on the Faculty or are curious to know why a lawyer wants to teach law rather than practise it.
One of the earliest decisions I made in my life was to be a lawyer. I was not yet nine. All my older relatives, including my father, were lawyers, and it did not seem as if I had any choice in the matter. Where I did have a choice was regarding what I would do after becoming a lawyer. I would never be a law teacher or a civil servant; I only wanted to be a practitioner. But “God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform”, and life did not quite turn out the way that I had intended it to be.
I read law for three years at the University of Ceylon, on a picturesque, residential campus, nestling among the tea plantations, high in the mountains of central Sri Lanka. Sir Ivor Jennings, vice-chancellor, had, on 3,500 acres of lush tropical vegetation, created for the Arts and Law Faculties a veritable ivory tower, away from all the mundane activities of city life.
Through it flowed the Mahaweli, Sri Lanka’s longest river, whose secluded sandy banks offered a welcome retreat from contracts, torts and trusts. It was there that I “proposed” to my future wife, with dire consequences. Her parents, to whom she dutifully communicated this fact, promptly removed her from the campus. They were not impressed by a potentially briefless barrister. A negotiated settlement, with severe restraints upon my movements, enabled her to resume her academic career.

With Shirle Amarasinghe, Permanent Representative and Deputy Perm Rep. Yogasunderam at UN General Assembly in 1972
A further year of study at the Ceylon Law College, and six months apprenticeship, and I was a fully qualified Advocate (as barristers are referred to in Sri Lanka). I wanted to take my oaths before my uncle, a Judge of the Supreme Court, who had brought me up after my father’s death when I was quite young. He was then presiding over a controversial criminal trial which later found its way into the law reports as The Queen v. Liyanage (1965) 1 All ER 42. He took the unusual step of sitting in another court for five minutes for the purpose of admitting me to the Bar. Ten days later, the Liyanage Bench dissolved itself, holding that it had no jurisdiction to sit as the Supreme Court since it had been nominated to do so by the Minister of Justice. I often wondered what my position would have been had I been admitted by that “court”.
I spent eight very happy years at the Bar. I learnt my way around as a junior in the chambers of several successful lawyers, each specializing in different areas: original court work, criminal appeals, tax law, industrial law, and judicial review. At the end of the third year, I felt confident enough to step out on my own; to decline appointment as a Crown Counsel; and to get married.
The next five years were spent almost entirely in the appeal courts where, much to my satisfaction, I found myself appearing in court daily. A short break enabled me, on a UNESCO Fellowship, to spend a few months as a member of the legal staff of the International Commission of Jurists in Geneva. There, under a remarkable man, Sean MacBride, then Secretary-General and later a Nobel peace prize winner, I was initiated into the world of human rights law. Back in Ceylon, I found myself becoming increasingly involved in legal work on behalf of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party, which was then in Opposition (and consequently, in several political trials), and in the activities of the Bar Council to which I had been elected as representative of the junior bar and then as its secretary.
At the 1970 general election, I represented Mrs. Bandaranaike, the SLFP leader, as her counting agent. When, in the early hours of the morning, I reported back to her that she had won her seat by a comfortable majority, the other results made it clear that she would be the country’s next Prime Minister. Forty eight hours later, she invited me to accept office as Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Justice, a position hitherto held by senior judges. It was a difficult decision to make. It meant abandoning the Bar where I was not only very happy, but also well settled. Finally, with an assurance from the Prime Minister that what she expected of me was a programme of radical law reform, and that I would have a completely free hand, I accepted the challenge.
The Secretary for Justice was the head of the Ministry of Justice, the Minister being a member of parliament and not necessarily a lawyer. The departments under the Ministry, which the Secretary was required to supervise, included those of the Attorney General, Legal Draftsman, Public Trustee, Government Analyst, Bribery Commissioner, Commissioner of Prisons, the Law Commission, the Courts and the Conciliation Boards. The heads of these departments, as well as my assistant secretaries, were all much older than I, and were all males. The latter deficiency was soon rectified by the appointment of a woman barrister as the secretary of the Law Commission. Once more, the unexpected happened. Following the sudden death of the Attorney General, I was required to leave my one-week-old job and move to another. On my 33rd birthday, I took my oath of office as Attorney General.
I spent seven eventful, exciting, tension-filled years in the Ministry of Justice. In a sense, they were years of achievement: the drafting of a new constitution that brought into being the Republic of Sri Lanka; the abolition of the right of appeal to the Privy Council and the establishment in Sri Lanka of a Court of Final Appeal; a new courts structure, including a Constitutional Court for the reviewing of bills; new criminal, civil and appellate procedure laws; the transition from English to Sinhala and Tamil also as the languages of the original courts; the fusion of the two branches of the legal profession; and the expansion of the concept of conciliation.
In another sense, they were also years of recrimination: a highly publicized encounter with the Supreme Court which culminated in my being ordered by the Chief Justice to leave the Bar Table at a ceremonial sitting of the court; a prolonged conflict with the Bar which could not understand why one of its “own” would want to change so radically the life-style of the profession, and even threaten to introduce “barefoot lawyers”, and suggest the control of fees; and an insurrection that filled the prisons (and two universities which were converted into prisons) with 18,000 idealistic young men and women who believed that they could take control of the government by the simple device of attacking all the police stations in the country in one night.
This latter enterprise resulted in my being designated under the Public Security Ordinance as “competent authority” for the release of detainees – an exercise that was extended over four years, much to the indignation of Amnesty International, the International Commission of Jurists and other human rights activist groups in many of which I was a member.
While functioning as Justice Secretary, I was also called upon to represent my country at the United Nations and in regional and international organizations, notably, the Asian-African Legal Consultative Committee, and the UN Congress on Crime. The UN was once described by U Thant as “an institution which enables a government of a member state to carry on a simultaneous conversation with the rest of the world”. Its General Assembly sessions always provided a touch of drama.
There were showers of chrysanthemums from the public balconies when Salvador Allende arrived to make a memorable speech in which he almost predicted his impending untimely death. In contrast, screaming demonstrators jammed the streets of New York to protest against the invitation extended by the UN to PLO leader Yasser Arafat. At the UN my work was principally concerned with human rights, and I recall the occasion when we began drafting a convention on torture, several years before it was to reach fruition. While on a visit to the US Supreme Court, during a break from the UN, I had the privilege of being invited to tea by that legendary libertarian activist, Mr. Justice William O. Douglas, then well into his seventies, but who had only recently married his young vivacious law clerk.
At a conference held in Colombo of Non-Aligned States, I was serving in the chairperson’s secretariat. It was an exciting week when out of the cover pages of TIME and NEWSWEEK there stepped out into real life exotic figures like Gaddafi of Libya, Sadat of Egypt, Assad of Syria, Makkarios of Cyprus, and Tito of Yugoslavia. My last assignment for the government was to have been as Ambassador to the Soviet Union; an assignment that I accepted and then declined for purely personal reasons: my daughter was barely two years old, and my wife was not willing to expose her to the sub-zero Moscow winter at that age.
Following the defeat of the Bandaranaike government at the 1977 general election, I resigned from my office in the hope of resuming my legal practice. The Bar, however, was unforgiving, and the new government was exceptionally vindictive. Therefore, in 1978, I accepted an offer from King’s College London of appointment as a Research Fellow for the purpose of researching the emerging international human rights law under Professor James Fawcett, then President of the European Commission of Human Rights. After three months in London, I returned home on a brief visit, only to find my passport being impounded on arrival. During the next one year. I was subjected to an inquiry by a special presidential commission on charges of “misuse and/or abuse of power” while serving the previous government, some of the charges being based on matters as hilarious as the Supreme Court “incident” and the proposal to introduce “barefoot lawyers”.
Others were more serious, and Queen’s Counsel who defended me described the proceedings as “a campaign of calumny”. Following the report, Parliament passed a law imposing “civic disabilities” on me for a period of seven years. A few months later, Mrs. Bandaranaike and another former minister (the brother of “Dias” on Jurisprudence) were each subjected to the same inquiry and the same penalty. It was a clever move by the new government to “eliminate” its political opponents, although why I was singled out for this dubious honour, I have yet to ascertain.
I returned to London in 1979 and resumed work on my research project at the School of Oriental and African Studies. Part of my research was incorporated in Paul Sieghart’s book on The International Law of Human Rights. The rest formed my thesis on “Human Rights: The Sri Lankan Experience, 1947-81”, for which the University of London awarded a PhD. My stay in London until the end of 1983, in the peaceful anonymity of academic life, was a most rewarding experience. It revived my interest in the study of law.
My first three months in London was spent in the home of an English judge, and there I had the pleasure of meeting two distinguished “men of the law”: Lord Denning and Sir Rupert Cross. I had several opportunities to undertake research into a variety of subjects, such as Commonwealth Constitutions and the Rights of Scientists, as well as the opportunity to work on the legal staff of the Commonwealth Secretariat, editing the Commonwealth Law Bulletin. The facilities for research in London, particularly at the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies, were extraordinarily rich; and some of the law teachers at the University of London were the finest I had ever encountered.
1984 saw me back in Colombo as Associate Director of the Marga Institute (the Sri Lanka Centre for Development Studies), a non-governmental, multi-disciplinary research institute, whose law division I headed. The atmosphere in the country, and at the Bar where I resumed practice, was now quite different from what it had been in the late 1970s, with the government rapidly losing its popularity. And then in July, while on a mission to Geneva, I received a telex from HKU offering me an appointment in the law faculty. I had entirely forgotten about my application submitted in the previous year from London, and which had until then evoked only a formal acknowledgment. We were finally settled in our home; my wife had resumed her work at the university; and our two daughters were back in their old school.
But the lure of Hong Kong was perhaps too difficult to resist. I had been there several times as a tourist in transit and found the territory an interesting blend of the east and the west. The Joint Declaration had just been signed and, from a constitutional lawyer’s perspective, the next decade would potentially be most stimulating. And, I was presented with an opportunity to do something which I had never wanted to do, and which I had never done before. It was an exciting, challenging prospect in a new field of endeavour. So here I am, having made a new beginning on April Fool’s Day 1985.
Features
When floods strike: How nations keep food on the table
Insights from global adaptation strategies
Sri Lanka has been heavily affected by floods, and extreme flooding is rapidly becoming one of the most disruptive climate hazards worldwide. The consequences extend far beyond damaged infrastructure and displaced communities. The food systems and supply networks are among the hardest hit. Floods disrupt food systems through multiple pathways. Croplands are submerged, livestock are lost, and soils become degraded due to erosion or sediment deposition. Infrastructural facilities like roads, bridges, retail shops, storage warehouses, and sales centres are damaged or rendered inaccessible. Without functioning food supply networks, even unaffected food-producing regions struggle to continue daily lives in such disasters. Poor households, particularly those dependent on farming or informal rural economies, face sharp food price increases and income loss, increasing vulnerability and food insecurity.
Many countries now recognie that traditional emergency responses alone are no longer enough. Instead, they are adopting a combination of short-term stabilisation measures and long-term strategies to strengthen food supply chains against recurrent floods. The most common immediate response is the provision of emergency food and cash assistance. Governments, the World Food Programme, and other humanitarian organisations often deliver food, ready-to-eat rations, livestock feed, and livelihood support to affected communities.
Alongside these immediate measures, some nations are implementing long-term strategic actions. These include technology- and data-driven approaches to improve flood preparedness. Early warning systems, using satellite data, hydrological models, and advanced weather forecasting, allow farmers and supply chain operators to prepare for potential disruptions. Digital platforms provide market intelligence, logistics updates, and risk notifications to producers, wholesalers, and transporters. This article highlights examples of such strategies from countries that experience frequent flooding.
China: Grain Reserves and Strategic Preparedness
China maintains a large strategic grain reserve system for rice, wheat, and maize; managed by NFSRA-National Food and Strategic Reserves Administration and Sinograin (China Grain Reserves Corporation (Sinograin Group), funded by the Chinese government, that underpins national food security and enables macro-control of markets during supply shocks. Moreover, improvements in supply chain digitization and hydrological monitoring, the country has strengthened its ability to maintain stable food availability during extreme weather events.
Bangladesh: Turning Vulnerability into Resilience
In recent years, Bangladesh has stood out as one of the world’s most flood-exposed countries, yet it has successfully turned vulnerability into adaptive resilience. Floating agriculture, flood-tolerant rice varieties, and community-run grain reserves now help stabilise food supplies when farmland is submerged. Investments in early-warning systems and river-basin management have further reduced crop losses and protected rural livelihoods.
Netherlands, Japan: High-Tech Models of Flood Resilience
The Netherlands offers a highly technical model. After catastrophic flooding in 1953, the country completely redesigned its water governance approach. Farmland is protected behind sea barriers, rivers are carefully controlled, and land-use zoning is adaptive. Vertical farming and climate-controlled greenhouses ensure year-round food production, even during extreme events. Japan provides another example of diversified flood resilience. Following repeated typhoon-induced floods, the country shifted toward protected agriculture, insurance-backed farming, and automated logistics systems. Cold storage networks and digital supply tracking ensure that food continues to reach consumers, even when roads are cut off. While these strategies require significant capital and investment, their gradual implementation provides substantial long-term benefits.
Pakistan, Thailand, Indonesia, and Vietnam: Reform in Response to Recurrent Floods
In contrast, Pakistan and Thailand illustrate both the consequences of climate vulnerability and the benefits of proactive reform. The 2022 floods in Pakistan submerged about one-third of the country, destroying crops and disrupting trade networks. In response, the country has placed greater emphasis on climate-resilient farming, water governance reforms, and satellite-based crop monitoring. Pakistan as well as India is promoting crop diversification and adjusting planting schedules to help farmers avoid the peak monsoon flood periods.
Thailand has invested in flood zoning and improved farm infrastructure that keep markets supplied even during severe flooding. Meanwhile, Indonesia and Vietnam are actively advancing flood-adapted land-use planning and climate-resilient agriculture. For instance, In Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, pilot projects integrate flood-risk mapping, adaptive cropping strategies, and ecosystem-based approaches to reduce vulnerability in agricultural and distribution areas. In Indonesia, government-supported initiatives and regional projects are strengthening flood-risk-informed spatial planning, adaptive farming practices, and community-based water management to improve resilience in flood-prone regions. (See Figure 1)
The Global Lesson: Resilience Requires Early Investment
The global evidence is clear: countries that invest early in climate-adaptive agriculture and resilient logistics are better able to feed their populations, even during extreme floods. Building a resilient future depends not only on how we grow food but also on how we protect, store, and transport it. Strengthening infrastructure is therefore central to stabilising food supply chains while maintaining food quality, even during prolonged disruptions. Resilient storage systems, regional grain reserves, efficient cold chains, improved farming infrastructure, and digital supply mapping help reduce panic buying, food waste, and price shocks after floods, while ensuring that production capacity remains secure.
Persistent Challenges
However, despite these advances, many flood-exposed countries still face significant challenges. Resources are often insufficient to upgrade infrastructure or support vulnerable rural populations. Institutional coordination across the agriculture, disaster management, transport, and environmental sectors remains weak. Moreover, the frequency and scale of climate-driven floods are exceeding the design limits of older disaster-planning frameworks. As a result, the gap between exposure and resilience continues to widen. These challenges are highly relevant to Sri Lanka as well and require deliberate, gradual efforts to phase them out.
The Role of International Trade and global markets
When domestic production falls in such situations, international trade serves as an important buffer. When domestic production is temporarily reduced, imports and regional trade flows can help stabilise food availability. Such examples are available from other countries. For instance, In October 2024, floods in Bangladesh reportedly destroyed about 1.1 million tonnes of rice. In response, the government moved to import large volumes of rice and allowed accelerated or private-sector imports of rice to stabilize supply and curb food price inflation. This demonstrates how, when domestic production fails, international trade/livestock/food imports (from trade partners) acted as a crucial buffer to ensure availability of staple food for the population. However, this approach relies on well-functioning global markets, strong diplomatic relationships, and adequate foreign exchange, making it less reliable for economically fragile nations. For example, importing frozen vegetables to Sri Lanka from other countries can help address supply shortages, but considerations such as affordability, proper storage and selling mechanisms, cooking guidance, and nutritional benefits are essential, especially when these foods are not widely familiar to local populations.
Marketing and Distribution Strategies during Floods
Ensuring that food reaches consumers during floods requires innovative marketing and distribution strategies that address both supply- and demand-side challenges. Short-term interventions often include direct cash or food transfers, mobile markets, and temporary distribution centres in areas where conventional marketplaces become inaccessible. Price stabilisation measures, such as temporary caps or subsidies on staple foods, help prevent sharp inflation and protect vulnerable households. Awareness campaigns also play a role by educating consumers on safe storage, cooking methods, and the nutritional value of unfamiliar imported items, helping sustain effective demand.
Some countries have integrated technology to support these efforts; in this regard, adaptive supply chain strategies are increasingly used. Digital platforms provide farmers, wholesalers, and retailers with real-time market information, logistics updates, and flood-risk alerts, enabling them to reroute deliveries or adjust production schedules. Diversified delivery routes, using alternative roads, river transport, drones, or mobile cold-storage units, have proven essential for maintaining the flow of perishable goods such as vegetables, dairy, and frozen products. A notable example is Japan, where automated logistics systems and advanced cold-storage networks help keep supermarkets stocked even during severe typhoon-induced flooding.
The Importance of Research, Coordination, and Long-Term Commitment
Global experience also shows that research and development, strong institutional coordination, and sustained national commitment are fundamental pillars of flood-resilient food systems. Countries that have successfully reduced the impacts of recurrent floods consistently invest in agricultural innovation, cross-sector collaboration, and long-term planning.
Awareness Leads to Preparedness
As the summary, global evidence shows that countries that act early, plan strategically, and invest in resilience can protect both people and food systems. As Sri Lanka considers long-term strategies for food security under climate change, learning from flood-affected nations can help guide policy, planning, and public understanding. Awareness is the first step which preparedness must follow. These international experiences offer valuable lessons on how to protect food systems through proactive planning and integrated actions.
(Premaratne (BSc, MPhil, LLB) isSenior Lecturer in Agricultural Economics Department of Agricultural Systems, Faculty of Agriculture, Rajarata University. Views are personal.)
Key References·
Cabinet Secretariat, Government of Japan, 2021. Fundamental Plan for National Resilience – Food, Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries / Logistics & Food Supply Chains. Tokyo: Cabinet Secretariat.
· Delta Programme Commissioner, 2022. Delta Programme 2023 (English – Print Version). The Hague: Netherlands Delta Programme.
· Hasanuddin University, 2025. ‘Sustainable resilience in flood-prone rice farming: adaptive strategies and risk-sharing around Tempe Lake, Indonesia’, Sustainability. Available at: https://www.mdpi.com/2071-1050/17/6/2456 [Accessed 3 December 2025].
· Mekong Urban Flood Resilience and Drainage Programme (TUEWAS), 2019–2021. Integrated urban flood and drainage planning for Mekong cities. TUEWAS / MRC initiative.
· Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs, People’s Republic of China, 2025. ‘China’s summer grain procurement surpasses 50 mln tonnes’, English Ministry website, 4 July.
· National Food and Strategic Reserves Administration (China) 2024, ‘China purchases over 400 mln tonnes of grain in 2023’, GOV.cn, 9 January. Available at: https://english.www.gov.cn/archive/statistics/202401/09/content_WS659d1020c6d0868f4e8e2e46.html
· Pakistan: 2022 Floods Response Plan, 2022. United Nations / Government of Pakistan, UN Digital Library.
· Shigemitsu, M. & Gray, E., 2021. ‘Building the resilience of Japan’s agricultural sector to typhoons and heavy rain’, OECD Food, Agriculture and Fisheries Papers, No. 159. Paris: OECD Publishing.
· UNDP & GCF, 2023. Enhancing Climate Resilience in Thailand through Effective Water Management and Sustainable Agriculture (E WMSA): Project Factsheet. UNDP, Bangkok.
· United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 2025. ‘Rice Bank revives hope in flood hit hill tracts, Bangladesh’, UNDP, 19 June.
· World Bank, 2022. ‘Bangladesh: World Bank supports food security and higher incomes of farmers vulnerable to climate change’, World Bank press release, 15 March.
Features
Can we forecast weather precisely?
Weather forecasts are useful. People attentively listen to them but complain that they go wrong or are not taken seriously. Forecasts today are more probabilistically reliable than decades ago. The advancement of atmospheric science, satellite imaging, radar maps and instantly updated databases has improved the art of predicting weather.
Yet can we predict weather patterns precisely? A branch of mathematics known as chaos theory says that weather can never be foretold with certainty.
The classical mechanics of Issac Newton governing the motion of all forms of matter, solid, liquid or gaseous, is a deterministic theory. If the initial conditions are known, the behaviour of the system at later instants of time can be precisely predicted. Based on this theory, occurrences of solar eclipses a century later have been predicted to an accuracy of minutes and seconds.
The thinking that the mechanical behaviour of systems in nature could always be accurately predicted based on their state at a previous instant of time was shaken by the work of the genius French Mathematician Henri Poincare (1864- 1902).
Eclipses are predicted with pinpoint accuracy based on analysis of a two-body system (Earth- Moon) governed by Newton’s laws. Poincare found that the equivalent problem of three astronomical bodies cannot be solved exactly – sometimes even the slightest variation of an initial condition yields a drastically different solution.
A profound conclusion was that the behaviour of physical systems governed by deterministic laws does not always allow practically meaningful predictions because even a minute unaccountable change of parameters leads to completely different results.
Until recent times, physicists overlooked Poincare’s work and continued to believe that the determinism of the laws of classical physics would allow them to analyse complex problems and derive future happenings, provided necessary computations are facilitated. When computers became available, the meteorologists conducted simulations aiming for accurate weather forecasting. The American mathematician Edward Lorenz, who turned into a reputed meteorologist, carried out such studies in the early 1960s, arrived at an unexpected result. His equations describing atmospheric dynamics demonstrated a strange behaviour. He found that even a minute change (even one part in a million) in initial parameters leads to a completely different weather pattern in the atmosphere. Lorenz announced his finding saying, A flap of a butterfly wing in one corner of the world could cause a cyclone in a far distant location weeks later! Lorenz’s work opened the way for the development branch of mathematics referred to as chaos theory – an expansion of the idea first disclosed by Henri Poincare.
We understand the dynamics of a cyclone as a giant whirlpool in the atmosphere, how it evolves and the conditions favourable for their origination. They are created as unpredictable thermodynamically favourable relaxation of instabilities in the atmosphere. The fundamental limitations dictated by chaos theory forbid accurate forecasting of the time and point of its appearance and the intensity. Once a cyclone forms, it can be tracked and the path of movement can be grossly ascertained by frequent observations. However, absolutely certain predictions are impossible.
A peculiarity of weather is that the chaotic nature of atmospheric dynamics does not permit ‘long – term’ forecasting with a high degree of certainty. The ‘long-term’ in this context, depending on situation, could be hours, days or weeks. Nonetheless, weather forecasts are invaluable for preparedness and avoiding unlikely, unfortunate events that might befall. A massive reaction to every unlikely event envisaged is also not warranted. Such an attitude leads to social chaos. The society far more complex than weather is heavily susceptible to chaotic phenomena.
by Prof. Kirthi Tennakone (ktenna@yahoo.co.uk)
Features
When the Waters Rise: Floods, Fear and the ancient survivors of Sri Lanka
The water came quietly at first, a steady rise along the riverbanks, familiar to communities who have lived beside Sri Lanka’s great waterways for generations. But within hours, these same rivers had swollen into raging, unpredictable forces. The Kelani Ganga overflowed. The Nilwala broke its margins. The Bentara, Kalu, and Mahaweli formed churning, chocolate-brown channels cutting through thousands of homes.
When the floods finally began to recede, villagers emerged to assess the damage, only to be confronted by another challenge: crocodiles. From Panadura’s back lanes to the suburbs of Colombo, and from the lagoons around Kalutara to the paddy fields of the dry zone, reports poured in of crocodiles resting on bunds, climbing over fences, or drifting silently into garden wells.
For many, these encounters were terrifying. But to Sri Lanka’s top herpetologists, the message was clear: this is what happens when climate extremes collide with shrinking habitats.
“Crocodiles are not invading us … we are invading floodplains”
Sri Lanka’s foremost crocodile expert, Dr. Anslem de Silva, Regional Chairman for South Asia and Iran of the IUCN/SSC Crocodile Specialist Group, has been studying crocodiles for over half a century. His warning is blunt.
“When rivers turn into violent torrents, crocodiles simply seek safety,” he says. “They avoid fast-moving water the same way humans do. During floods, they climb onto land or move into calm backwaters. People must understand this behaviour is natural, not aggressive.”
In the past week alone, Saltwater crocodiles have been sighted entering the Wellawatte Canal, drifting into the Panadura estuary, and appearing unexpectedly along Bolgoda Lake.
“Saltwater crocodiles often get washed out to sea during big floods,” Dr. de Silva explains. “Once the current weakens, they re-enter through the nearest lagoon or canal system. With rapid urbanisation along these waterways, these interactions are now far more visible.”
- An adult Salt Water Crocodile (Crocodylus porosus) (Photo -Madura de Silva)
- Adult Mugger (Crocodylus plaustris) Photo -Laxhman Nadaraja
- A Warning sign board
- A Mugger holding a a large Russell ’s viper (Photo- R. M. Gunasinghe)
- Anslem de Silva
- Suranjan Karunarathna
This clash between wildlife instinct and human expansion forms the backdrop of a crisis now unfolding across the island.
A conflict centuries old—now reshaped by climate change
Sri Lanka’s relationship with crocodiles is older than most of its kingdoms. The Cūḷavaṃsa describes armies halted by “flesh-eating crocodiles.” Ancient medical texts explain crocodile bite treatments. Fishermen and farmers around the Nilwala, Walawe, Maduganga, Batticaloa Lagoon, and Kalu Ganga have long accepted kimbula as part of their environment.
But the modern conflict has intensified dramatically.
A comprehensive countrywide survey by Dr. de Silva recorded 150 human–crocodile attacks, with 50 fatal, between 2008 and 2010. Over 52 percent occurred when people were bathing, and 83 percent of victims were men engaged in routine activities—washing, fishing, or walking along shallow margins.
Researchers consistently emphasise: most attacks happen not because crocodiles are unpredictable, but because humans underestimate them.
Yet this year’s flooding has magnified risks in new ways.
“Floods change everything” — Dr. Nimal D. Rathnayake
Herpetologist Dr. Nimal Rathnayake says the recent deluge cannot be understood in isolation.
“Floodwaters temporarily expand the crocodile’s world,” he says. “Areas people consider safe—paddy boundaries, footpaths, canal edges, abandoned land—suddenly become waterways.”
Once the water retreats, displaced crocodiles may end up in surprising places.
“We’ve documented crocodiles stranded in garden wells, drainage channels, unused culverts and even construction pits. These are not animals trying to attack. They are animals trying to survive.”
According to him, the real crisis is not the crocodile—it is the loss of wetlands, the destruction of natural river buffers, and the pollution of river systems.
“When you fill a marsh, block a canal, or replace vegetation with concrete, you force wildlife into narrower corridors. During floods, these become conflict hotspots.”
Past research by the Crocodile Specialist Group shows that more than 300 crocodiles have been killed in retaliation or for meat over the past decade. Such killings spike after major floods, when fear and misunderstanding are highest.
“Not monsters—ecosystem engineers” — Suranjan Karunaratne
On social media, flood-displaced crocodiles often go viral as “rogue beasts.” But conservationist Suranjan Karunaratne, also of the IUCN/SSC Crocodile Specialist Group, says such narratives are misleading.
“Crocodiles are apex predators shaped by millions of years of evolution,” he says. “They are shy, intelligent animals. The problem is predictable human behaviour.”
In countless attack investigations, Karunaratne and colleagues found a repeated pattern: the Three Sames—the same place, the same time, the same activity.
“People use the same bathing spot every single day. Crocodiles watch, learn, and plan. They hunt with extraordinary patience. When an attack occurs, it’s rarely random. It is the culmination of observation.”
He stresses that crocodiles are indispensable to healthy wetlands. They: control destructive catfish populations, recycle nutrients, clean carcasses and diseased fish, maintain biodiversity, create drought refuges through burrows used by amphibians and reptiles.
“Removing crocodiles destroys an entire chain of ecological services. They are not expendable.”
Karunaratne notes that after the civil conflict, Mugger populations in the north rebounded—proof that crocodiles recover when given space, solitude, and habitat.
Floods expose a neglected truth: CEEs save lives—if maintained In high-risk communities, Crocodile Exclusion Enclosures (CEEs) are often the only physical barrier between people and crocodiles. Built along riverbanks or tanks, these enclosures allow families to bathe, wash, and collect water safely.
Yet Dr. de Silva recounts a tragic incident along the Nilwala River where a girl was killed inside a poorly maintained enclosure. A rusted iron panel had created a hole just large enough for a crocodile to enter.
“CEEs are a life-saving intervention,” he says. “But they must be maintained. A neglected enclosure is worse than none at all.”
Despite their proven effectiveness, many CEEs remain abandoned, broken or unused.
Climate change is reshaping crocodile behaviour—and ours
Sri Lanka’s floods are no longer “cycles” as described in folklore. They are increasingly intense, unpredictable and climate-driven. The warming atmosphere delivers heavier rainfall in short bursts. Deforested hillsides and filled wetlands cannot absorb it.
Rivers swell rapidly and empty violently.
Crocodiles respond as they have always done: by moving to calmer water, by climbing onto land, by using drainage channels, by shifting between lagoons and canals, by following the shape of the water.
But human expansion has filled, blocked, or polluted these escape routes.
What once were crocodile flood refuges—marshes, mangroves, oxbow wetlands and abandoned river channels—are now housing schemes, fisheries, roads, and dumpsites.
Garbage, sand mining and invasive species worsen the crisis
The research contained in the uploaded reports paints a grim but accurate picture. Crocodiles are increasingly seen around garbage dumps, where invasive plants and waste accumulate. Polluted water attracts fish, which in turn draw crocodiles.
Excessive sand mining in river mouths and salinity intrusion expose crocodile nesting habitats. In some areas, agricultural chemicals contaminate wetlands beyond their natural capacity to recover.
In Borupana Ela, a short study found 29 Saltwater crocodiles killed in fishing gear within just 37 days.
Such numbers suggest a structural crisis—not a series of accidents.
Unplanned translocations: a dangerous human mistake
For years, local authorities attempted to reduce conflict by capturing crocodiles and releasing them elsewhere. Experts say this was misguided.
“Most Saltwater crocodiles have homing instincts,” explains Karunaratne. “Australian studies show many return to their original site—even if released dozens of kilometres away.”
Over the past decade, at least 26 Saltwater crocodiles have been released into inland freshwater bodies—home to the Mugger crocodile. This disrupts natural distribution, increases competition, and creates new conflict zones.
Living with crocodiles: a national strategy long overdue
All three experts—Dr. de Silva, Dr. Rathnayake and Karunaratne—agree that Sri Lanka urgently needs a coordinated, national-level mitigation plan.
* Protect natural buffers
Replant mangroves, restore riverine forests, enforce river margin laws.
* Maintain CEEs
They must be inspected, repaired and used regularly.
* Public education
Villagers should learn crocodile behaviour just as they learn about monsoons and tides.
* End harmful translocations
Let crocodiles remain in their natural ranges.
* Improve waste management
Dumps attract crocodiles and invasive species.
* Incentivise community monitoring
Trained local volunteers can track sightings and alert authorities early.
* Integrate crocodile safety into disaster management
Flood briefings should include alerts on reptile movement.
“The floods will come again. Our response must change.”
As the island cleans up and rebuilds, the deeper lesson lies beneath the brown floodwaters. Crocodiles are not new to Sri Lanka—but the conditions we are creating are.
Rivers once buffered by mangroves now rush through concrete channels. Tanks once supporting Mugger populations are choked with invasive plants. Wetlands once absorbing floodwaters are now levelled for construction.
Crocodiles move because the water moves. And the water moves differently today.
Dr. Rathnayake puts it simply:”We cannot treat every flooded crocodile as a threat to be eliminated. These animals are displaced, stressed, and trying to survive.”
Dr. de Silva adds:”Saving humans and saving crocodiles are not competing goals. Both depend on understanding behaviour—ours and theirs.”
And in a closing reflection, Suranjan Karunaratne says:”Crocodiles have survived 250 million years, outliving dinosaurs. Whether they survive the next 50 years in Sri Lanka depends entirely on us.”
For now, as the waters recede and the scars of the floods remain, Sri Lanka faces a choice: coexist with the ancient guardians of its waterways, or push them into extinction through fear, misunderstanding and neglect.
By Ifham Nizam
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