Editorial
In the storied land of rice paddies and mighty elephants, Sri Lanka’s political promises have grown as stale as the coconut harvests devoured by wild creatures. Once, the government dazzled us with lofty promises of prosperity, a brighter future, and economic stability. They assured us of a nation where even the poorest could afford a meal, where family farms would thrive, and where every citizen could share in the wealth of a booming economy. But as we near 2025, these promises have turned to dust, much like the rice fields trampled by the animals our leaders have utterly failed to control.
Economically, Sri Lanka’s “stability” is hailed with the enthusiasm of a used car salesman trying to offload a clunker. “Everything’s fine!” they insist, while the poverty line stubbornly remains high. People are struggling to afford the basics—rice, vegetables, and everyday food—yet the government ministers appear oblivious to the suffering. Or worse, they simply don’t care. If they did, we wouldn’t find ourselves in the absurd position where a nation once capable of feeding itself is now advising its citizens to eat less rice—something that, until recently, was never a national concern.
The problem is straightforward: despite the country’s rich agricultural potential, the sector is stuck in the past, hindered by an administration more focused on political posturing than on real solutions. Rice, coconuts, bananas, maize—these crops should be the backbone of the nation’s economy. But instead, Sri Lanka finds itself distracted by wildlife with an insatiable appetite for destruction, eating away at our crops and economy. Peacocks, monkeys, elephants, and other animals have formed a destructive force, costing Sri Lanka a staggering 55.3 billion rupees in losses. Yes, you read that right—billion. And what does the government do? Nothing.
Take a moment to grasp the scale of the damage: 86.7 million coconuts destroyed. 86.7 million. That’s an enormous loss, yet it seems the government hasn’t noticed—except perhaps Anuradha Tennakoon, Chairman of the National Farmers’ Union, who has had the decency to speak up, shaking his head in disbelief as he watches his fellow farmers lose everything to unchecked wildlife.
But it doesn’t end there. In just the past two years, 131 million kilos of paddy, 169 million kilos of bananas, and 59.7 million kilos of vegetables have been wiped out by these wild animals. 131 million kilos of paddy—a catastrophic loss for a country that once prided itself on self-sufficiency in food. And what is the government’s response? Absolutely nothing, save for empty promises and press releases filled with vague assurances of “action.” Meanwhile, the destruction continues to mount, especially in Uva, Northwestern, and Southern Provinces. It’s as though Sri Lanka has become a zoo run by incompetent zookeepers, more concerned with maintaining their political positions than with protecting the nation’s agricultural base.
Sri Lanka cannot afford to be indifferent to food security, yet here we are, unable to protect our farms from the very wildlife we should be managing. But then again, why should the government care? Their real interests lie in their own political games, in self-preservation, and in feeding the pockets of the elite. The idea that the economy is stable is just a slogan—one that bears no resemblance to the truth. Wild elephants and peacocks may be eating away at our future, but it’s the government’s lack of action and its addiction to corruption that is truly devouring Sri Lanka’s prospects.
Perhaps it’s time for the government to finally acknowledge what it has become: a Republic of Monkeys. Ministers and bureaucrats are so caught up in their own monkey business that they have lost sight of the real issues at hand. It’s time for them to stop playing political games and start doing what they were elected to do: act as responsible leaders. Sri Lanka’s future may depend on whether they can control the very forces that are destroying it—wild animals, roaches, and yes, even the promises they once made.
