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Purism in the era of mass politics

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by Uditha Devapriya

In claiming that all mainstream parties have failed the country, the JVP-NPP has made a necessity out of virtue. The JVP has always touted itself as the better alternative, and in the present conjuncture, it feels it’s the best alternative we have.

That may explain why its manifesto, “Rapid Response”, reads like a rushed job, full of rhetoric but no real substance. It’s the policy statement of a party which tries to please everyone and ends up pleasing no one. This is a necessary offshoot of how it perceives itself: since it considers itself superior to every other outfit, it assumes that people will vote purely or exclusively on the strength of their dissatisfaction with mainstream politics.

The JVP-NPP’s political vision is, essentially, the leftwing version of Mangala Samaraweera’s Radical Centre. Like that initiative, the JVP-NPP concentrates on political systems rather than ideologies, and engages with corruption to the exclusion of more structural issues. That is why its pamphlet has more, much more, to say about bribery than about the state of the economy, the latter of which it views through the prism of post-1977 liberalisation.

This is a far cry from the approach taken by the Latin American Left, an irony considering that the JVP-NPP has more or less recommended Pink Tide strategies.

“Developments in Latin America are being closely watched by progressive groups and movements globally. Peru recently voted in a left-wing teacher as President after a closely fought election. Boric has been congratulated by the old guard of the left from Cuba, Venezuela, and Mexico. Colombia and Brazil are due to have elections in 2022 and in both countries, left-wing leaders are sensing possible victory. Most importantly, these shifts are signalling a deep dissatisfaction with the status quo and a desire for political and economic models that are less divisive and unequal.”

Laudable and accurate, but have leftwing outfits in Sri Lanka taken stock of these “developments”? We need to ask three questions here: what lessons the Sri Lankan Left should learn from the second Pink Tide, whether the Left has learnt them, and what course of action the Left, particularly the JVP-NPP, should go for to go ahead.

The way I see it, the second Latin American Pink Tide taught us three lessons. First, it saw a return to fundamental economic concerns: Peru’s Pedro Castillo, a member of that country’s marginalised indigenous community, dwelt on immediate priorities, like income and wealth inequalities and the country’s dependence on imports, putting them at the forefront of his presidency. Second, as the Mexican election showed, the Left in the region encompassed not just orthodox Marxists, but also social democrats, centre-left reformists and populists, though the latter’s backtracking, as seen in Gabriel Boric’s statements about Venezuela and Nicaragua, remains open to question.

Thirdly, and most importantly, the Latin American Left consistently portrayed itself, not as the moral superior to other political formations, but as the only viable alternative to the status quo. If ever a JVP-NPP outfit made an appearance in the Pink Tide last year, it was in Chile, where certain leftist commentators claimed that there was no “essential difference” between Boric and his rightwing opponent. Indeed, unimpressive as Boric’s compromises on foreign policy were, his camp considered these as being necessary expedients in the larger fight against rightwing neo-Pinochetianism. The tactic, in other words, wasn’t to be morally or ethically superior, but to win the race and end the war.

Perhaps the biggest issue with the first Latin American Pink Tide was its failure to connect with the European Left and to make headway with forces that had elected it to power, namely peasants and urban workers. Opposed and then supported by reactionary forces, it caved into the demands of corporate interests and ensured its own demise, culminating in Jair Bolsonaro’s election in 2019. By the looks of it, those leading the second Pink Tide seem to have learnt their lesson there, opting for a “Back to Basics” approach that highlighted material issues affecting ordinary people. Themes like bribery and corruption did enter the fray, but these did not swamp other, more important concerns.

Latin America has always been a wide canvas, a potpourri of political systems and cultures. What bound it together was its staunch anti-imperialist legacy, reinforced by decades of besiegement from its big neighbour to the north. In organising a viable opposition, then, progressive forces didn’t so much adhere to orthodox prescriptions as adapt theory to context, making use of mass electoral politics. From Cuba to Nicaragua, it was mass politics, and popular hatred of authoritarian rule, that helped overthrow rightwing regimes. This is something the heirs of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez have understood well.

Has the Sri Lankan Left picked up these lessons? History should tell us that it has not. The Old Left, which gained a reputation for debating important issues like free education and independence in and fighting over them outside the legislature, later disintegrated into almost never-ending sectarian squabbles. To its credit, the LSSP and the Communist Party acknowledged that it could not set aside Sri Lanka’s legacy as Asia’s oldest democracy in its agenda, and that any transformation of society had to involve mass politics. In ignoring these imperatives, conversely, the breakaway Left engineered its own demise long before the LSSP’s and the Communist Party’s fallout from the 1977 election.

The New Left, namely the JVP, suffered from another failure: its inability to tolerate dissent, within or without. From its inception, it embraced an adventurist spirit which caused it to shift to the extreme left under a leftwing government and to the extreme right under a rightwing government. After 1994, it entered the democratic mainstream, though without acknowledging the failures of its past, and over the next two decades it chose to pander to a burgeoning middle-class. These developments compelled it to compromise on its radical potential. Not surprisingly, the JVP-NPP today stands as a case in point for how the centre-left can lose track when responding to shifting class demographics.

The problem with oppositional forces calling themselves progressive in Sri Lanka is their almost casual disregard for mass electoral politics. The irony is that those among them who came to power, the JVP included, could not have done so without electoral politics. The yahapalana regime, for instance, would not have been able to defeat the Rajapaksas on the strength of reformist rhetoric alone; it had to listen to voters, and it had to pay attention to their more genuine concerns. In doing so, it had to pander to those concerns.

That explains why Maithripala Sirisena distanced himself from left-liberal talk of cutting down Sri Lanka’s security apparatus, declaring in an interview with Padma Rao Sunderji that any withdrawals from the north and east would be phased out and not immediate. The UNP faction of the yahapalana regime, by contrast, failed to grasp this, which explains its fallout. Slow as it was, the SLFP realised the pitfalls of the UNP’s approach and extricated itself from the UNP’s embrace, saving itself with a last-minute alliance with the SLPP.

Now, the paradox at the heart of oppositional politics in Sri Lanka today, which one simply does not find among the Latin American Left, is the disconnect between its advocacy for a fairer, better order and its casual indifference to electoral politics. Hence, while calling for the government to resign and pave the way for better leadership, the JVP-NPP’s Anura Kumara Dissanayake rejects offers to ally with not just the SJB – which has its own problems regarding its direction – but also the FSP. The latter, for its part, has been more forthcoming about its policy stances, which would make it the ideal partner for the JVP-NPP, but which has otherwise been ignored and cast aside.

Indeed, instead of listening to the people, which is what any sane opposition, leftwing or otherwise, should be doing, these outfits are gambling on the support of particular social groups, especially the forever upward-aspiring middle classes.

It’s a testament to the power and influence of Sri Lanka’s suburban and urban middle class that it continues to pull the strings of every other oppositional outfit. From the SJB’s Ranilist wing to Champika Ranawaka’s 43 Senankaya, everyone is coveting support from this class, and everyone is adjusting to its demands. To give just one example of how much the middle-class has altered the political landscape, Ranawaka’s turnaround over the abolition of the Executive Presidency, which his allies dismiss as a molehill that Marxists have turned into a mountain, echoes the Sinhala nationalist middle-class’s shift from constitutional reform to what they see as the immediate priority of overthrowing the Rajapaksas.

I have outlined the dangers of pandering to these groups from a Left perspective before in this paper, but the point needs reiterating: as long as the crisis we are in continues to radicalise the middle-class, the Left can and will win by tapping into their discontent and taking advantage of their stances on issues like political corruption. Yet the moment their radicalism slips up, obviously once the crisis comes to an end, the Left might be forced to take stands antithetical to their progressive foundation. This is where the JVP-NPP is going wrong, where the FSP has not gone wrong, and where the Left in general needs to course correct and return to a saner, and commonsensical, approach.

To usher in our own Pink Tide, we need to think beyond the rhetoric of political corruption, going back to the basics. To that end the JVP-NPP needs to wake up, and fast.

The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com



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Rebuilding Sri Lanka Through Inclusive Governance

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Management Committee of the 'Rebuilding Sri Lanka' Fund Appointed with Representatives from the Public and Private Sectors - PMD

In the immediate aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah, the government has moved swiftly to establish a Presidential Task Force for Rebuilding Sri Lanka with a core committee to assess requirements, set priorities, allocate resources and raise and disburse funds. Public reaction, however, has focused on the committee’s problematic composition. All eleven committee members are men, and all non-government seats are held by business personalities with no known expertise in complex national development projects, disaster management and addressing the needs of vulnerable populations. They belong to the top echelon of Sri Lanka’s private sector which has been making extraordinary profits. The government has been urged by civil society groups to reconsider the role and purpose of this task force and reconstitute it to be more representative of the country and its multiple  needs.

 The group of high-powered businessmen initially appointed might greatly help mobilise funds from corporates and international donors, but this group may be ill equipped to determine priorities and oversee disbursement and spending. It would be necessary to separate fundraising, fund oversight and spending prioritisation, given the different capabilities and considerations required for each. International experience in post disaster recovery shows that inclusive and representative structures are more likely to produce outcomes that are equitable, efficient and publicly accepted. Civil society, for instance, brings knowledge rooted in communities, experience in working with vulnerable groups and a capacity to question assumptions that may otherwise go unchallenged.

 A positive and important development is that the government has been responsive to these criticisms and has invited at least one civil society representative to join the Rebuilding Sri Lanka committee. This decision deserves to be taken seriously and responded to positively by civil society which needs to call for more representation rather than a single representative.  Such a demand would reflect an understanding that rebuilding after a national disaster cannot be undertaken by the state and the business community alone. The inclusion of civil society will strengthen transparency and public confidence, particularly at a moment when trust in institutions remains fragile. While one appointment does not in itself ensure inclusive governance, it opens the door to a more participatory approach that needs to be expanded and institutionalised.

Costly Exclusions

 Going  down the road of history, the absence of inclusion in government policymaking has cost the country dearly. The exclusion of others, not of one’s own community or political party, started at the very dawn of Independence in 1948. The Father of the Nation, D S Senanayake, led his government to exclude the Malaiyaha Tamil community by depriving them of their citizenship rights. Eight years later, in 1956, the Oxford educated S W R D Bandaranaike effectively excluded the Tamil speaking people from the government by making Sinhala the sole official language. These early decisions normalised exclusion as a tool of governance rather than accommodation and paved the way for seven decades of political conflict and three decades of internal war.

Exclusion has also taken place virulently on a political party basis. Both of Sri Lanka’s post Independence constitutions were decided on by the government alone. The opposition political parties voted against the new constitutions of 1972 and 1977 because they had been excluded from participating in their design. The proposals they had made were not accepted. The basic law of the country was never forged by consensus. This legacy continues to shape adversarial politics and institutional fragility. The exclusion of other communities and political parties from decision making has led to frequent reversals of government policy. Whether in education or economic regulation or foreign policy, what one government has done the successor government has undone.

 Sri Lanka’s poor performance in securing the foreign investment necessary for rapid economic growth can be attributed to this factor in the main. Policy instability is not simply an economic problem but a political one rooted in narrow ownership of power. In 2022, when the people went on to the streets to protest against the government and caused it to fall, they demanded system change in which their primary focus was corruption, which had reached very high levels both literally and figuratively. The focus on corruption, as being done by the government at present, has two beneficial impacts for the government. The first is that it ensures that a minimum of resources will be wasted so that the maximum may be used for the people’s welfare.

Second Benefit

 The second benefit is that by focusing on the crime of corruption, the government can disable many leaders in the opposition. The more opposition leaders who are behind bars on charges of corruption, the less competition the government faces. Yet these gains do not substitute for the deeper requirement of inclusive governance. The present government seems to have identified corruption as the problem it will emphasise. However, reducing or eliminating corruption by itself is not going to lead to rapid economic development. Corruption is not the sole reason for the absence of economic growth. The most important factor in rapid economic growth is to have government policies that are not reversed every time a new government comes to power.

 For Sri Lanka to make the transition to self-sustaining and rapid economic development, it is necessary that the economic policies followed today are not reversed tomorrow. The best way to ensure continuity of policy is to be inclusive in governance. Instead of excluding those in the opposition, the mainstream opposition in particular needs to be included. In terms of system change, the government has scored high with regard to corruption. There is a general feeling that corruption in the country is much reduced compared to the past. However, with regard to inclusion the government needs to demonstrate more commitment. This was evident in the initial choice of cabinet ministers, who were nearly all men from the majority ethnic community. Important committees it formed, including the Presidential Task Force for a Clean Sri Lanka and the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force, also failed at first to reflect the diversity of the country.

 In a multi ethnic and multi religious society like Sri Lanka, inclusivity is not merely symbolic. It is essential for addressing diverse perspectives and fostering mutual understanding. It is important to have members of the Tamil, Muslim and other minority communities, and women who are 52 percent of the population, appointed to important decision making bodies, especially those tasked with national recovery. Without such representation, the risk is that the very communities most affected by the crisis will remain unheard, and old grievances will be reproduced in new forms. The invitation extended to civil society to participate in the Rebuilding Sri Lanka Task Force is an important beginning. Whether it becomes a turning point will depend on whether the government chooses to make inclusion a principle of governance rather than treat it as a show of concession made under pressure.

by Jehan Perera

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Reservoir operation and flooding

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Floods caused by Cyclone Ditwah

Former Director General of Irrigation, G.T. Dharmasena, in an article, titled “Revival of Innovative systems for reservoir operation and flood forecasting” in The Island of 17 December, 2025, starts out by stating:

“Most reservoirs in Sri Lanka are agriculture and hydropower dominated. Reservoir operators are often unwilling to acknowledge the flood detention capability of major reservoirs during the onset of monsoons. Deviating from the traditional priority for food production and hydropower development, it is time to reorient the operational approach of major reservoirs operators under extreme events, where flood control becomes a vital function. While admitting that total elimination of flood impacts is not technically feasible, the impacts can be reduced by efficient operation of reservoirs and effective early warning systems”.

Addressing the question often raised by the public as to “Why is flooding more prominent downstream of reservoirs compared to the period before they were built,” Mr. Dharmasena cites the following instances: “For instance, why do (sic) Magama in Tissamaharama face floods threats after the construction of the massive Kirindi Oya reservoir? Similarly, why does Ambalantota flood after the construction of Udawalawe Reservoir? Furthermore, why is Molkawa, in the Kalutara District area, getting flooded so often after the construction of Kukule reservoir”?

“These situations exist in several other river basins, too. Engineers must, therefore, be mindful of the need to strictly control the operation of the reservoir gates by their field staff. (Since) “The actual field situation can sometimes deviate significantly from the theoretical technology… it is necessary to examine whether gate operators are strictly adhering to the operational guidelines, as gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”.

COMMENT

For Mr. Dharmasena to bring to the attention of the public that “gate operation currently relies too much on the discretion of the operator at the site”, is being disingenuous, after accepting flooding as a way of life for ALL major reservoirs for decades and not doing much about it. As far as the public is concerned, their expectation is that the Institution responsible for Reservoir Management should, not only develop the necessary guidelines to address flooding but also ensure that they are strictly administered by those responsible, without leaving it to the arbitrary discretion of field staff. This exercise should be reviewed annually after each monsoon, if lives are to be saved and livelihoods are to be sustained.

IMPACT of GATE OPERATION on FLOODING

According to Mr. Dhamasena, “Major reservoir spillways are designed for very high return periods… If the spillway gates are opened fully when reservoir is at full capacity, this can produce an artificial flood of a very large magnitude… Therefore, reservoir operators must be mindful in this regard to avoid any artificial flood creation” (Ibid). Continuing, he states: “In reality reservoir spillways are often designed for the sole safety of the reservoir structure, often compromising the safety of the downstream population. This design concept was promoted by foreign agencies in recent times to safeguard their investment for dams. Consequently, the discharge capacities of these spill gates significantly exceed the natural carrying capacity of river(s) downstream” (Ibid).

COMMENT

The design concept where priority is given to the “sole safety of the structure” that causes the discharge capacity of spill gates to “significantly exceed” the carrying capacity of the river is not limited to foreign agencies. Such concepts are also adopted by local designers as well, judging from the fact that flooding is accepted as an inevitable feature of reservoirs. Since design concepts in their current form lack concern for serious destructive consequences downstream and, therefore, unacceptable, it is imperative that the Government mandates that current design criteria are revisited as a critical part of the restoration programme.

CONNECTIVITY BETWEEN GATE OPENINGS and SAFETY MEASURES

It is only after the devastation of historic proportions left behind by Cyclone Ditwah that the Public is aware that major reservoirs are designed with spill gate openings to protect the safety of the structure without factoring in the consequences downstream, such as the safety of the population is an unacceptable proposition. The Institution or Institutions associated with the design have a responsibility not only to inform but also work together with Institutions such as Disaster Management and any others responsible for the consequences downstream, so that they could prepare for what is to follow.

Without working in isolation and without limiting it only to, informing related Institutions, the need is for Institutions that design reservoirs to work as a team with Forecasting and Disaster Management and develop operational frameworks that should be institutionalised and approved by the Cabinet of Ministers. The need is to recognize that without connectivity between spill gate openings and safety measures downstream, catastrophes downstream are bound to recur.

Therefore, the mandate for dam designers and those responsible for disaster management and forecasting should be for them to jointly establish guidelines relating to what safety measures are to be adopted for varying degrees of spill gate openings. For instance, the carrying capacity of the river should relate with a specific openinig of the spill gate. Another specific opening is required when the population should be compelled to move to high ground. The process should continue until the spill gate opening is such that it warrants the population to be evacuated. This relationship could also be established by relating the spill gate openings to the width of the river downstream.

The measures recommended above should be backed up by the judicious use of the land within the flood plain of reservoirs for “DRY DAMS” with sufficient capacity to intercept part of the spill gate discharge from which excess water could be released within the carrying capacity of the river. By relating the capacity of the DRY DAM to the spill gate opening, a degree of safety could be established. However, since the practice of demarcating flood plains is not taken seriously by the Institution concerned, the Government should introduce a Bill that such demarcations are made mandatory as part of State Land in the design and operation of reservoirs. Adopting such a practice would not only contribute significantly to control flooding, but also save lives by not permitting settlement but permitting agricultural activities only within these zones. Furthermore, the creation of an intermediate zone to contain excess flood waters would not tax the safety measures to the extent it would in the absence of such a safety net.

CONCLUSION

Perhaps, the towns of Kotmale and Gampola suffered severe flooding and loss of life because the opening of spill gates to release the unprecedented volumes of water from Cyclone Ditwah, was warranted by the need to ensure the safety of Kotmale and Upper Kotmale Dams.

This and other similar disasters bring into focus the connectivity that exists between forecasting, operation of spill gates, flooding and disaster management. Therefore, it is imperative that the government introduce the much-needed legislative and executive measures to ensure that the agencies associated with these disciplines develop a common operational framework to mitigate flooding and its destructive consequences. A critical feature of such a framework should be the demarcation of the flood plain, and decree that land within the flood plain is a zone set aside for DRY DAMS, planted with trees and free of human settlements, other than for agricultural purposes. In addition, the mandate of such a framework should establish for each river basin the relationship between the degree to which spill gates are opened with levels of flooding and appropriate safety measures.

The government should insist that associated Agencies identify and conduct a pilot project to ascertain the efficacy of the recommendations cited above and if need be, modify it accordingly, so that downstream physical features that are unique to each river basin are taken into account and made an integral feature of reservoir design. Even if such restrictions downstream limit the capacities to store spill gate discharges, it has to be appreciated that providing such facilities within the flood plain to any degree would mitigate the destructive consequences of the flooding.

By Neville Ladduwahetty

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Listening to the Language of Shells

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The ocean rarely raises its voice. Instead, it leaves behind signs — subtle, intricate and enduring — for those willing to observe closely. Along Sri Lanka’s shores, these signs often appear in the form of seashells: spiralled, ridged, polished by waves, carrying within them the quiet history of marine life. For Marine Naturalist Dr. Malik Fernando, these shells are not souvenirs of the sea but storytellers, bearing witness to ecological change, resilience and loss.

“Seashells are among the most eloquent narrators of the ocean’s condition,” Dr. Fernando told The Island. “They are biological archives. If you know how to read them, they reveal the story of our seas, past and present.”

A long-standing marine conservationist and a member of the Marine Subcommittee of the Wildlife & Nature Protection Society (WNPS), Dr. Fernando has dedicated much of his life to understanding and protecting Sri Lanka’s marine ecosystems. While charismatic megafauna often dominate conservation discourse, he has consistently drawn attention to less celebrated but equally vital marine organisms — particularly molluscs, whose shells are integral to coastal and reef ecosystems.

“Shells are often admired for their beauty, but rarely for their function,” he said. “They are homes, shields and structural components of marine habitats. When shell-bearing organisms decline, it destabilises entire food webs.”

Sri Lanka’s geographical identity as an island nation, Dr. Fernando says, is paradoxically underrepresented in national conservation priorities. “We speak passionately about forests and wildlife on land, but our relationship with the ocean remains largely extractive,” he noted. “We fish, mine sand, build along the coast and pollute, yet fail to pause and ask how much the sea can endure.”

Through his work with the WNPS Marine Subcommittee, Dr. Fernando has been at the forefront of advocating for science-led marine policy and integrated coastal management. He stressed that fragmented governance and weak enforcement continue to undermine marine protection efforts. “The ocean does not recognise administrative boundaries,” he said. “But unfortunately, our policies often do.”

He believes that one of the greatest challenges facing marine conservation in Sri Lanka is invisibility. “What happens underwater is out of sight, and therefore out of mind,” he said. “Coral bleaching, mollusc depletion, habitat destruction — these crises unfold silently. By the time the impacts reach the shore, it is often too late.”

Seashells, in this context, become messengers. Changes in shell thickness, size and abundance, Dr. Fernando explained, can signal shifts in ocean chemistry, rising temperatures and increasing acidity — all linked to climate change. “Ocean acidification weakens shells,” he said. “It is a chemical reality with biological consequences. When shells grow thinner, organisms become more vulnerable, and ecosystems less stable.”

Climate change, he warned, is no longer a distant threat but an active force reshaping Sri Lanka’s marine environment. “We are already witnessing altered breeding cycles, migration patterns and species distribution,” he said. “Marine life is responding rapidly. The question is whether humans will respond wisely.”

Despite the gravity of these challenges, Dr. Fernando remains an advocate of hope rooted in knowledge. He believes public awareness and education are essential to reversing marine degradation. “You cannot expect people to protect what they do not understand,” he said. “Marine literacy must begin early — in schools, communities and through public storytelling.”

It is this belief that has driven his involvement in initiatives that use visual narratives to communicate marine science to broader audiences. According to Dr. Fernando, imagery, art and heritage-based storytelling can evoke emotional connections that data alone cannot. “A well-composed image of a shell can inspire curiosity,” he said. “Curiosity leads to respect, and respect to protection.”

Shells, he added, also hold cultural and historical significance in Sri Lanka, having been used for ornamentation, ritual objects and trade for centuries. “They connect nature and culture,” he said. “By celebrating shells, we are also honouring coastal communities whose lives have long been intertwined with the sea.”

However, Dr. Fernando cautioned against romanticising the ocean without acknowledging responsibility. “Celebration must go hand in hand with conservation,” he said. “Otherwise, we risk turning heritage into exploitation.”

He was particularly critical of unregulated shell collection and commercialisation. “What seems harmless — picking up shells — can have cumulative impacts,” he said. “When multiplied across thousands of visitors, it becomes extraction.”

As Sri Lanka continues to promote coastal tourism, Dr. Fernando emphasised the need for sustainability frameworks that prioritise ecosystem health. “Tourism must not come at the cost of the very environments it depends on,” he said. “Marine conservation is not anti-development; it is pro-future.”

Dr. Malik Fernando

Reflecting on his decades-long engagement with the sea, Dr. Fernando described marine conservation as both a scientific pursuit and a moral obligation. “The ocean has given us food, livelihoods, climate regulation and beauty,” he said. “Protecting it is not an act of charity; it is an act of responsibility.”

He called for stronger collaboration between scientists, policymakers, civil society and the private sector. “No single entity can safeguard the ocean alone,” he said. “Conservation requires collective stewardship.”

Yet, amid concern, Dr. Fernando expressed cautious optimism. “Sri Lanka still has immense marine wealth,” he said. “Our reefs, seagrass beds and coastal waters are resilient, if given a chance.”

Standing at the edge of the sea, shells scattered along the sand, one is reminded that the ocean does not shout its warnings. It leaves behind clues — delicate, enduring, easily overlooked. For Dr. Malik Fernando, those clues demand attention.

“The sea is constantly communicating,” he said. “In shells, in currents, in changing patterns of life. The real question is whether we, as a society, are finally prepared to listen — and to act before silence replaces the story.”

 

By Ifham Nizam

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