• State officials claim public distrust of weather reports and reluctance to move to safer areas when warnings are issued
• NBRO has only mapped about a quarter of SL’s high-risk topography 

Sri Lanka, still counting the damage and its dead from the impact of Cyclone Ditwah, is trying to clear roads and rebuild homes as the rubble is removed and life tries to return to some normalcy. 

More than a week after Ditwah tore across the island – its ferocity unmatched in living memory – the country remains in the grip of a humanitarian, economic, and political crisis. 

The floods and landslides that followed have claimed hundreds of lives and forced thousands into temporary shelters. Relief centres, stretched thin even on ordinary days, are now overwhelmed. 

Yet as the rains continue and the scale of the catastrophe becomes clearer, another storm is brewing – one centred not on weather patterns but on governance, accountability, and long-neglected questions about whether Sri Lanka was ever truly prepared for a disaster of this magnitude.

The country’s fragile economy, barely recovering from recent financial collapse, has taken another heavy blow. Early projections suggest that the cyclone’s destruction could shave 0.5–0.7% off Sri Lanka’s GDP growth for 2026, with agriculture, transport, and tourism suffering the most severe shocks. 

The political atmosphere is equally charged. In the face of mounting criticism about preparedness and response, several officials have hinted at invoking Emergency powers against dissenters. Media freedom groups have responded swiftly, warning the Government against using tragedy as a pretext to silence critics.

An unsettling question

Amid this turmoil, an unsettling question hangs in the air: how much of the devastation was inevitable – and how much was preventable?

A new audit report by the Auditor General’s Department has added fuel to that debate. The findings are scathing, revealing systemic weaknesses across nearly every pillar of the nation’s disaster management architecture. 

It is a report that, in quieter times, might have shaken the political landscape. Today, it colours every conversation about the country’s current suffering. The warnings were there, but the system often wasn’t. 

In the chaos of a disaster, the public instinctively turns to institutions meant to protect them. But according to the Auditor General’s report, several of Sri Lanka’s key disaster management bodies were not functioning as they should – even before Cyclone Ditwah formed in the Indian Ocean.

Disastrous disaster management

The National Council for Disaster Management, the highest-level policymaking body for disaster preparedness, did not meet even once between 2019 and 2021. That three-year silence coincided with severe floods, multiple landslides, and pandemic-related emergency conditions. No technical advisory committee was appointed during those years.

The National Disaster Management Plan, last revised in 2013, had not been updated. And the disaster management fund, mandated under the Sri Lanka Disaster Management Act, was never established.

These institutional absences meant that Sri Lanka entered one of its worst natural disasters in decades without a functioning national strategy, without updated plans, and without the advisory bodies that could have guided critical decisions. 

DMC stance

In such a backdrop, Disaster Management Centre (DMC) Director – Preparedness Planning Chathura Liyanaarachchi said: “We have plans. But the public has its own realities.”

Inside the DMC, there is frustration at what officials view as one-sided criticism, insisting that the DMC has long implemented the National Disaster Preparedness Plan approved by Parliament.

He points to years of public education campaigns and community training programmes. But he also points to the limits of the State.

“For example, we recently issued red alerts for fishermen, advising them not to go out during the cyclonic period. However, two boats ignored the warnings and went fishing, forcing us to deploy a helicopter for their rescue. This reflects the Sri Lankan context: when families are struggling with basic needs, warnings may not be their primary concern,” he said.

Then, in words that cut to the heart of Sri Lanka’s socioeconomic constraints, he added: “Unlike developed countries with higher GDPs, people here prioritise livelihood and survival over official advisories. That is why many do not comply with warnings issued by the DMC or other authorities.”

Liyanaarachchi offered examples that would resonate with many Sri Lankan households. Take the tree that leans precariously over a roof – a common sight across the island. Even when authorities warned of high winds, he said, proactive mitigation was rare.

“Even if warnings are issued about potential high winds or cyclones, the homeowner may not proactively remove the tree. Instead, they may wait until it falls and then demand compensation. The majority tend to follow the latter approach,” he said. 

Forecast accuracy is another challenge, one that complicates public trust. “How often have we received 100 mm of rain as predicted by the Meteorology Department? This time, some areas received up to 500 mm. The community often disregards warnings until they witness actual events,” he explained.

But even he conceded that the DMC relied heavily on donors. “These external supports are crucial. Without them, our budget allocations would be insufficient for the work we are expected to perform,” he said, underscoring the financial fragility of what should be the country’s most robust line of defence. 

Liyanaarachchi stressed that preparedness was a shared responsibility. “While everyone points fingers at disaster preparedness, a large part of the responsibility lies with the community itself, to follow the warnings issued,” he said.

‘Disaster immunity is an illusion’

He also emphasised a universal truth: disaster immunity is an illusion. “Even highly developed countries face disasters. Japan has experienced catastrophic tsunamis, the US has endured severe floods, and many others have similar experiences. This is the inherent nature of disasters,” he said.

And then, a reminder of how rare such events are in Sri Lanka: “A cyclone passed over Sri Lanka after 1848, according to historical records, and this was the only recorded cyclone to cross the country since that year.” 

Yet rarity does not excuse unpreparedness. And the audit shows a pattern of systemic neglect that goes far beyond public behaviour or forecasting limitations.

Early warning infrastructure

In terms of Sri Lanka’s early warning infrastructure – systems meant to alert communities before disaster strikes – out of 77 disaster warning towers built at a cost of Rs. 134.7 million, 55 had become non-functional due to a lack of maintenance. Radar installations in Puttalam and Pottuvil – funded through Japanese assistance worth ¥ 2,503 million – were simply abandoned.

Automated weather stations around the country were non-operational, crippled by insufficient maintenance and the absence of trained personnel. Shortages of meteorological equipment and outdated forecasting systems further hampered the ability to monitor risks accurately.

In effect, Sri Lanka entered Cyclone Ditwah with significant portions of its early warning system either broken, obsolete, or unmanned.

Landslide preparedness

If the coastal regions suffered through swelling seas and floods, the hill country endured its own nightmare: collapsing slopes and smothered villages. 

Yet landslide preparedness – an area long identified as critical – remains severely underdeveloped.

The National Building Research Organisation (NBRO) has completed just 27% of detailed landslide hazard maps across 13 priority districts, despite more than a decade of work. Progress in Matale, Hambantota, Galle, Matara, and Kurunegala is particularly weak. Colombo, Gampaha, and Monaragala have no detailed maps at all.

The NBRO, despite being operational for 38 years, still lacks legal status, limiting its authority to enforce safety standards or drive a coordinated national response. A project to develop comprehensive landslide risk profiles – scheduled for completion in 2021 – remained incomplete at the end of 2022. Of the 28 planned components, only five were implemented. More than 70% of funds allocated for the project remained unused.

Meanwhile, 92,765 buildings in high-risk landslide areas were identified, but the crucial follow-up surveys and map revisions were never completed. 

Failures in providing support 

The audit also reveals failures in providing support to vulnerable communities. District secretariats did not properly utilise 191 tractor bowsers worth Rs. 338 million intended for addressing drinking water shortages. Only a portion of the houses planned under the 2021 resettlement programme for high-risk families were constructed. 

Out of 325 designated safe centres, only 292 were operational when disaster struck. These gaps translated into overcrowded shelters, insufficient water supplies, and confused evacuation processes during Cyclone Ditwah.

Taken together, the Auditor General’s findings portray a disaster management framework strained by underinvestment, paralysed by bureaucratic inertia, and hindered by weak coordination. Sri Lanka, a nation facing increasingly unpredictable climate patterns, entered one of its most severe natural disasters without the institutional readiness needed to confront it.

A hard lesson

Cyclone Ditwah has delivered a devastating blow to Sri Lanka’s people, economy, and infrastructure. But it has also delivered a hard lesson: disasters are becoming more frequent, more severe, and far less predictable.

Sri Lanka may not have been prepared for Ditwah’s scale and rarity. But the more urgent question – the one the audit forces into the spotlight – is whether it can afford to be unprepared again. 

The storm may have passed. But its consequences and the questions it raises about governance, accountability, and national resilience will linger far longer than the floodwaters.