The question of where we can find Sri Lanka’s urban policy has been ongoing for many decades. It has not always been pursued as a separate inquiry, but, one is expected to encounter it along the way during a long journey through the country’s planning and urban development landscape. After all, Sri Lanka has had planning laws, national plans, urban development institutions, housing programmes, Local Government (LG) structures, development projects, and political manifestos. One would therefore assume that somewhere within this institutional and political maze, there must be a clearly stated national urban policy.
Sri Lanka has a National Physical Plan. Many experts rightly criticise that planning authorities often overlook this Plan when formulating urban plans for areas declared by the Urban Development Authority or LG Authorities/Bodies. But, does this Plan truly represent the country’s urban policy? It provides a comprehensive framework for land use, settlement patterns, infrastructure, environmental protection, and development directions across the island. While it is an essential National planning document, it does not serve as a clear statement of the Government’s urban policy. A national physical plan can guide spatial development, an urban policy must do more. It must clarify how urbanisation is to be managed, how cities and towns are to operate, how people are to live, how institutions are to coordinate, and how development can enhance citizens’ well-being.
Then, we have the legal framework. Some of it comes from Ordinances introduced during British colonial rule, while others are Acts of Parliament enacted after Independence in 1948. These Laws created institutions, powers, procedures, and responsibilities. They shaped the way that planning and urban development are administered. Laws are not the same as policy. They may provide the authority to act, they do not necessarily tell us what kind of urban future that the country seeks to create.
Political manifestos are another possible place to look. Every political party presents a manifesto during national, Provincial, and Local Elections. These documents usually refer to housing, education, transport, infrastructure, employment, and regional development. Yet one has rarely seen a manifesto that gives serious attention to the urban environment as a national policy concern. The notable exception may be the 1977 Government of President Junius Richard Jayewardene. Even then, it did not present a comprehensive urban policy in explicit terms. However, it recognised the seriousness of urban development and housing issues and created or strengthened institutions to respond to them. That was perhaps one of the earliest serious attempts to confront the dire urban and housing situation that the country faced at the time.
Since then, successive Governments have initiated many programmes and projects. Some were commendable. Some had the potential to improve the urban landscape significantly. Others were fragmented, politically driven, or poorly sustained. The current Government is no exception. It appears to approach urban issues differently from previous regimes, and some of its initiatives may be well-intentioned. The deeper problem remains unchanged. Urban development continues to be treated mainly as a series of projects rather than as part of a coherent policy framework. Projects may please the electorate, create visibility, and produce immediate outcomes. But, without a clearly articulated urban policy, there is no guarantee that these projects will take the country towards the wider goals of equity, sustainability, liveability, resilience, and public well-being.
This is the central difficulty. Sri Lanka has plans, laws, institutions, manifestos, and projects. What is missing is a clearly stated national urban policy that brings these elements together and gives them direction. A country cannot manage urbanisation through scattered interventions, however attractive or useful they may appear. It needs a policy that explains the purpose of urbanisation, the role of cities and towns, the responsibilities of institutions, the rights of citizens, and the standards by which urban development should be judged.
So where, then, can we find Sri Lanka’s urban policy? And, if we cannot find it, is it because it is hidden inside our plans and laws, or because we have never really formulated one?
An urban policy of a country is the broad public framework through which the state defines how urbanisation should be guided, managed, regulated, financed, and made beneficial to the people. It is not simply a policy about cities as physical places. It is a national approach to shaping settlement patterns, land use, infrastructure, housing, transport, environmental protection, local economies, governance, and the well-being of citizens. In simple terms, an urban policy answers the question: what kind of an urban future does the country want, and how will it organise institutions, resources, laws, and investments to achieve it?
A good urban policy recognises that urbanisation is not accidental. People, capital, services, employment, infrastructure, and political power increasingly concentrate in urban areas. Without policy direction, this process can produce congestion, informal settlements, unaffordable housing, environmental degradation, inequality, weak public transport, and fragmented LG. With a clear policy however, urbanisation can become a pathway to better livelihoods, stronger regional economies, improved public services, climate resilience, social inclusion, and national development.
An urban policy therefore works across several scales. At the national level, it sets the vision for the country’s urban system: the roles of the capital city, secondary cities, regional towns, rural-urban linkages, growth corridors, ports, airports, industrial zones, and strategic infrastructure. At the city and local level, it guides how land is used, how development is controlled, how housing is provided, how public space is protected, how transport is planned, and how communities participate in decisions affecting their daily lives. It should connect national development planning with the lived realities of neighbourhoods.
Urban policy is also a governance instrument. It clarifies who is responsible for what: Central Government, Provincial Councils, Local Authorities, planning agencies, infrastructure providers, private developers, communities, and professional bodies. Many urban problems arise not because there is no activity, but because there are too many disconnected activities. Roads are built without land-use coordination; housing is provided without livelihood planning; investment is approved without environmental safeguards; and Local Authorities are expected to manage cities without adequate powers, finance, or professional capacity. A national urban policy should reduce this fragmentation.
Most importantly, an urban policy should be judged by its impact on the people. It should not be limited to attracting investment, beautifying cities, or producing master plans. Its real purpose is to improve the well-being, dignity, safety, opportunity, and belonging of citizens. This means asking whether urbanisation is reducing poverty or merely relocating it; whether housing is adequate and affordable; whether people can reach work, schools, hospitals, and public services; whether the environment is protected; whether young people have opportunities; and whether communities have a voice in shaping their future.
For Sri Lanka, asking “what is an urban policy?” is especially important because the country often treats urban development as a collection of projects rather than as a coherent national agenda. An urban policy should provide the missing bridge between national economic recovery, LG reform, housing, infrastructure, environmental resilience, social justice, and democratic governance. It should help Sri Lanka move from ad hoc urban interventions to a principled, coordinated, and people-centred approach to urbanisation.
The writer is a multidisciplinary urban planner, educator, and sustainable urbanism practitioner with over three decades of experience across Sri Lanka, Australia, the Pacific Island countries, and the UK
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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication