By Vipula Wanigasekera –

Dr. Vipula Wanigasekera

The elephants, revered for centuries in Sri Lankan culture and central to the country’s wildlife tourism industry, are continually facing an existential crisis. The numbers speak volumes. Between 2015 and 2024, over 3,484 elephants have died due to this conflict, along with 1,195 human lives lost (VOA News, 2024). Behind these statistics lies a deeper, more painful story of fragmented habitats, misunderstood behavior, and policy paralysis.

Elephants in Sri Lanka are not just wildlife—they are national icons. Tourists from around the globe visit parks like Minneriya and Udawalawe to witness wild herds in their natural habitat, generating millions of dollars annually for the national economy. Yet, year after year, these gentle giants are increasingly seen as intruders—straying into farmland, destroying crops, and clashing with human settlements. The year 2023 marked one of the worst in recent memory, with 488 elephants killed and 182 human deaths reported due to the conflict. By mid-2024, another 388 elephants had already perished.

The causes of this crisis are deeply rooted in land use and ecological imbalance. Once covering over 70% of the island, Sri Lanka’s forest cover has now shrunk to about 16%. As development projects expand and farmlands extend deeper into previously wild areas, the natural corridors that elephants have followed for centuries are being blocked. Their ancient migratory paths are now interrupted by roads, railways, and human settlements. These obstacles lead to tragic accidents—such as the February 2025 train collision near Minneriya, which killed six elephants instantly. In total, 24 elephants died on railway tracks in 2023, and nine more in 2024 alone (AP News).

Farmers, too, suffer significant losses. Elephants often raid crops in search of food, especially during dry seasons when vegetation becomes scarce due to climate change. Their appetite is enormous—an adult elephant can consume over 300 pounds of food a day—leading to devastating consequences when they move through agricultural areas. Property damage is frequent, and economic losses can reach hundreds of thousands of rupees annually for affected villagers. Understandably, frustration often leads to retaliation: some use electric fences illegally, set off explosives disguised as food (known as Hakka Patas), or even shoot the animals. The suffering inflicted is unspeakable.

Yet despite the mounting tensions, solutions do exist. One promising approach involves restoring elephant corridors to allow safe, unobstructed movement across the landscape. While a National Action Plan proposed in 2020 aimed to address this through mapped corridors and community-managed fences, political instability and bureaucratic inertia have delayed its implementation. Conservationists argue that identifying corridors scientifically and engaging local communities in their protection is vital.

Technology also offers hope. Early warning systems using motion sensors, seismic detectors, and drone surveillance have been piloted successfully in parts of India and could be adapted for use in Sri Lanka. Meanwhile, traditional methods—such as planting chili fences or using beehive barriers—have proven effective in discouraging elephants from entering fields without harming them.

Another emerging initiative is the concept of bio-fencing, using naturally grown trees such as Palmyra in zig-zag patterns to form long-term, elephant-resistant boundaries. These not only deter intrusion but also generate alternative income for local communities. Transparent compensation schemes and insurance for crop damage can further help reduce animosity and foster cooperation between communities and conservation authorities.

At its core, the human–elephant conflict in Sri Lanka is not just about space—it is about empathy, coexistence, and priorities. Elephants have given generously to the country, not only as symbols of its cultural identity but also as ambassadors who have attracted countless tourists and supported entire communities through wildlife-based economies. To continue losing them at the current rate is not only a conservation failure—it is an ethical one.

*The writer is a former diplomat, Head of Tourism, Academic in business studies, YouTuber, Meditation coach, and Reiki healer