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Peradeniya University in the Seventies

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BY Geewananda Gunawardana, Ph.D.

Two recent articles shed much light on the Peradeniya University and the campus life in the fifties and sixties. If those were the glorious years of this fabled institution, the seventies can be considered as the decade it lost its innocence. That sounds ominous but rest assured that we the seventies generation of students did enjoy the campus life in our own way, just as our predecessors did, perhaps without the opulence.

Change is inevitable, but often it is not noticeable, especially when it is gradual. In comparison to the previous two decades, the changes of the seventies were anything but gradual and were out there for everyone to see. The song writers, novelists, and movie makers need not worry, the campus life they romanticized did continue unabated: The mist rolled down the Hantana range, trumpet flowers carpeted the grounds in April, and countless youthful heart strings got tangled as before. While the Mahaweli ran through the lush valley as it did for millennia, some transformative events took place in the backdrop and changed the campus life for many years to come.

I entered the Peradeniya University on October 4, 1969, in time to get a glimpse of the glorious era and witness it slip away under political, economic, and social calamities that burdened the entire country. At that time, there was considerable friction between the education community at large and the then Minister of Education (IMRA Iriyagolle) who was a medical student turned policeman, turned politician. It was generally believed that this minister’s actions were largely responsible for the fall of that government and the Bandaranaike coalition coming into power in 1970.

No doubt that the education circles, particularly the university community were optimistic, and they welcomed the new administration. We witnessed this cordiality when Professor K. N. Jayatilleka passed away just a month after the election: The prime minister casually walked into the senate building to pay last respects accompanied by the then IGP. No fanfare or fuss. I suspect that could have been the last time a political figure was able to walk through the Peradeniya campus without having to deploy a massive security. The goodwill did not last long, however.

When we entered, it was the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya as it has been since 1952. In 1972, when all universities were brought under the umbrella of University of Sri Lanka, it became the Peradeniya Campus. The Vice Chancellor Professor E.O.E. Pereira stepped down, and the position was replaced with a Campus President. The university crest was changed along with the motto to Vidya Dadathi Vinayam from the old Savasya Locanam Sasthrum. This was reversed in 1979 when it became the University of Peradeniya.

The centralization brought in several administrative changes that did not sit well with the campus community as it significantly impacted its autonomy. As I can remember, students had grievance against many changes that were dictated from Colombo, leading to frequent demonstrations and strikes. I doubt if there were any policy makers who had graduated form Peradeniya, or from a Sri Lankan university at that time, and that was the reason for lack of any meaningful dialogue. Furthermore, I doubt if the policymakers had any inclination to send their own children to the system either. No wonder that there was a sense of distrust on both sides and disinterest on part of the government.

The JVP was highly active in the campus at the time. The most visible signs were the meticulously painted slogans appearing overnight on pavements and on walls. The names of the residential halls were replaced with the names of some Russian revolutionary figures. Wijewardena hall became Bandaranaike Hall. In addition to the members only meetings the JVP leader held frequently, he conducted a series of lectures to packed audiences in the open-air theater. Many students attended out of curiosity.

There were rumors of preparations being made for an armed revolution, but I personally did not know anyone who took that seriously, at least until March 16, 1971. That day, we were attending an afternoon lecture when a massive explosion was heard. Running out of the theater, we could see a section of the roof of Mars Hall blown open and smoldering. Apparently, some bomb making materials that were hidden there had gone off. The army and police raided all the residential halls promptly, and a significant number of crude bombs and detonators were discovered. We considered this accident as a blessing in disguise. If not for that, the fate of the campus dwellers could have been very different during the events that followed.

A hike up the Hanthana and going to Sri Pada were two popular activities among the students. On Saturday April 3, 1971, about 15 of us, both men and women, went to Sri Pada. It was an impromptu event: take the evening train to Hatton, ride the CTB bus to Nallathanniya, and make the climb at night. See the sun rise in the morning and get back to campus the next night. It was a fun trip, an opportunity for camaraderie, having a good time, and taking a few pictures for the record if one had a camera. Romance was not ruled out; in fact, one couple got hitched on this trip.

That was my second year, and we did not get to stay in the residence halls at tat time. A friend and I were staying at a house in Getambe where the Mahanama school playground stands today. Arriving late and tired from the hike, we were going to sleep late, but our boarding master woke us up. During early morning on April 5, the JVP had attacked several police stations, a curfew had been declared, and we should leave for home ASAP, he told us.

Perhaps, he considered housing campus students a liability, with good reason. Hurriedly, we grabbed what we could and got to Peradeniya. There, we witnessed to our horror a few students being interrogated (read tortured) by the police. I managed to reach home the next day after spending the curfew night at a relative’s house in Colombo and taking a ride in the back of a lorry. However, many others were stranded as the roads were blocked at many places.

It was only after we returned to the campus months later that we learnt about their harrowing adventures. It had taken some students weeks or months to reach home, some spending time at detention camps or in hiding not knowing if they would get out alive. If we were delayed in getting back from Sri Pada on that night, our fate could have been very different. Our experiences may appear mere inconveniences compared to the events of the following decade, but that was the very first time the post-independence Sri Lanka saw the government unleashing its wrath upon its own youth.

When we returned after a three-month hiatus, it was a transformed campus. All the graffiti were gone, and the residential hall names were restored. Considering the extent of the student involvement in planning the uprising, only a small number of students failed to return. There was some evidence of violence in the campus. The blood stains resembling an injured person crawling into a room were found in a residential hall. There were several burnt patches along the road near the temple, and it was rumored that some bodies were set on fire there.

One major change after the revolt was an increase in controls over student life. Authorities, especially the law enforcement, did not look at the students favorably for a good reason. A night curfew was in place for some time. The police started patrolling the campus without being requested by campus authorities, thereby increasing the tension. Fortunately, the chief of police at Peradeniya who used to frequent the faculty club and had good relations with some of the staff, helped maintain some level of civility.

After the uprising in 1971, all students were given accommodation in campus residences. Hilda Obeysekera hall that had been a women’s residence since 1952, was converted to a men’s residence, and we were the fortunate first male occupants. Thanks to the legendary warden, Mrs. Mathiyaparanam, it had been so well maintained and looked like a three-star hotel. Manicured courtyards, clean and fully functioning bathrooms complete with bathtubs, full length mirrors, and bidets.

There were hilarious incidents reported in using this last item. Not to mention the laundry hampers in each room and the laundry service included in the hall fee. Meals were served at table complete with cutlery; food was excellent and was aplenty; and the waiting staff was there to refill the glass or the cup. It may have worked for women, but obviously, that opulence could not be maintained with young men. The sheer number of free loaders (gajaya) and the male appetite took its toll. To control the situation, a meal ticket system and rationing were introduced. Instead of dishes on the table to serve yourself from, plated food was served; but still a good portion of quality food; and seconds were available if needed.

Sri Lankan economy ran into trouble in 1974. With $ 2 billion in debt, the government could not afford to import enough food for the county’s 13 million people. Everyone had to make drastic changes, and the campus was not spared. With the food crisis that ensured, the meals at residential halls took a big hit. I recall a member of the kitchen staff saying that what we ate was of poorer quality than that of the scraps thrown away in the fifties.

The campus authorities tried their best by substituting rice with other staples, but it was not easy to stomach. To ease the situation, the immaculately maintained lawns were allowed to be cultivated, and many non-academic staff seized the opportunity. Even after the economy recovered somewhat and the food crisis eased, the quality of food in the campus continued to deteriorate and became a bone of contention. At one point, even the humble milk tea was stopped to be replaced with plain tea with a piece of jaggery, or something that resembled jaggery.

The heavy-handed management of the campuses by the Sirima Bandaranaike government caused continuous friction between the administration and students and staff alike. In November 1976, the university workers went on strike demanding some changes, which included the removal of the then Campus President. When the students decided to support the workers, the administration declared the campus closed.

Instead of leaving the campus, the students decided to stage a sit down around the senate building. A heavily armed police force of about 700 was brought in. On the morning of November 11, when the students were changing shifts, the police brutally attacked them with live bullets. Many were injured, girls were abused, and one student was shot dead. The memorial near the Jennings circle marks the spot where Weerasuriya fell mortally wounded. Even though a high-level investigation was conducted, no one was found guilty of murder. After Bandaranaike’s party was decimated at the election in 1977, campus politics took a new turn.

Along with the economic hardships, the campus upkeep also fell behind. The lack of or poor repairs contributed to the deterioration of the facilities. Once the underground power cable to the pumping station broke down and several residential halls went without water for many days. This happened during the middle of a final examination causing tremendous hardship. The addition of new books and journals to the libraries was drastically reduced. The abandoned cultivated plots turned the once elegant landscape into scrublands.

The palm trees that lined the old Galaha road bloomed signaling the end of their lives. Some thought that was an omen for more bad things to come. The only new building project I can think of was the new student center replacing the old canteen housed in the USO building, a leftover from the tea plantation days.

Thus, the seventies saw some of the notable moments of the transformative process of the campus. The luxuries of the fifties and sixties became a legend. There is no doubt that the students of the fifties would have looked upon us with pity. Young people are resilient, and we enjoyed the campus life in the seventies as much as they did in the fifties, in our own way. I am sure the fifties crowd would have never dreamed of this: After reading about a streaking incident during a cricket match in England, a bunch of guys ran naked in front of a girls’ residence hall after sunset.

Somehow, to their horror, the girls recognized them. Seeing this incident, the watcher on duty exclaimed “In the fifties, the gentlemen wore ties when they visited the ladies.” The ensuring stories circulated made our streakers’ lives a misery.

Despite the setbacks, we did our studies, learned the skills to make a living, made lifelong friendships, and some of us found our life partners. The film-soc, Wala, cultural performances, and social functions continued. In fact, it was one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. However, the thought comes if we could have done things differently.

My only regret is that we did not leave it the way the sixties people left it for us. Unfortunately, there were larger forces at work. However, there was one fifties-sixties inheritance that we could and should have done away with as a gift to the future generations: the inhumane, shameful, and utterly purposeless culture of ragging.

(The writer is a pharmaceutical consultant in the US)



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The scope of Sri Lanka’s commitments to accountability

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Vijitha Herath at the UNHRC

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

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

UNLAWFUL ACTS relating to ARMED CONFLICT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHALLENGES to the ACCOUNTABILITY EXERCISE

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

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

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

CONCLUSION

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

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

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

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

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

by Neville Ladduwahetty ✍️

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

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An elephant drive

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

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

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

What are elephant drives?

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

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

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

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

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

Consequences of elephant drives

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

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

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

Examples highlighting the repercussions of elephant drives

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

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

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

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

What could be done instead to mitigate HEC?

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

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

 

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

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The Amazon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

COP 30

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

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

“Truth and Action”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Dr. Asoka Bandarage ✍️

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