• A look at the 2026 stance on HEC

When President Anura Kumara Dissanayake presented the 2026 budget before Parliament on 7 November, his words carried the weight of one of Sri Lanka’s most painful and persistent crises: the human-elephant conflict (HEC). 

He acknowledged that the clash between people and elephants now claims around 80 human lives and more than 260 elephants each year, with the highest casualties in Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa, and Ampara. 

Describing HEC as a threat to both rural livelihoods and the national economy, the President announced an additional Rs. 1,000 million allocation to the Department of Wildlife Conservation (DWC) to strengthen mitigation efforts. 

Of this, Rs. 300 million is earmarked to complete the construction of electric fences across critical areas, Rs. 375 million will cover food and fuel allowances for 5,000 Civil Security Service officers who will be trained and permanently assigned to the DWC, Rs. 80 million will support the management of pastures and water sources for elephants, and Rs. 10 million will fund research into long-term, evidence-based solutions. The budget also includes approval for 294 new vehicles and upgraded communication equipment to expand the DWC’s field capacity.

Department of Wildlife Conservation Acting Director-General Ranjan Marasinghe said that while the new budget allocations are a much-needed boost, meaningful progress will depend on strengthening field operations and coordination. “We are making every possible effort to reduce the tragic toll of this conflict, which claims dozens of human lives and hundreds of elephants each year. The recent budget allocation will enable the DWC to strengthen electric-fence networks, procure essential vehicles and communications gear, and expand our trained field workforce. But real, lasting success depends on close collaboration with communities and making sure that our strategies are built on solid scientific data rather than short-term fixes,” he said. 

He further noted that resource shortages and inadequate patrol coverage have long hindered the department’s ability to respond swiftly to incidents, but the proposed increase in vehicles, training, and equipment offers a chance to change that.

Yet, for conservationists and rural communities alike, the numbers and strategies sound familiar: more fences, more manpower, and little indication of the long-term scientific planning Sri Lanka’s elephant crisis truly demands.

The toll of an old problem

Over the decades, human-elephant conflict (HEC) has transformed from an environmental concern into a national crisis. The Department of Wildlife Conservation recorded over 430 elephant deaths and 160 human deaths in 2024 alone: one of the highest annual tolls in Sri Lanka’s history. Fields are trampled, homes are destroyed, and entire villages live under constant threat. Yet, the government’s latest proposals seem to revisit the same methods that have failed for more than half a century.

“The State continues to believe that elephants can simply be fenced in or driven away,” said environmentalist Supun Lahiru Prakash, who has long advocated for coexistence-based solutions. “It’s a mindset frozen in the 1950s. Even after decades of trying to push elephants into parks, 70% of their habitat still overlaps with human settlements. If this approach worked, we wouldn’t be losing hundreds of elephants every year.”

Prakash’s tone reflects not only frustration but fatigue. He recalled that as far back as 1959, the Government’s policy on elephant management centred on confining the animals to designated protected areas. “We’ve spent millions maintaining fences, building new ones, and repairing the old. But elephants are intelligent, social creatures. They adapt. They find gaps. And when we push them out of their traditional ranges, they come back more aggressive and confused,” he said.

A plan forgotten

During its election campaign, the National People’s Power Government promised a “scientific and sustainable” solution to human-elephant conflict. It was, Prakash noted, a message that resonated deeply with rural voters. “People believed this administration would finally put science before politics,” he shared. “But the budget shows otherwise. Instead of implementing the National Action Plan from 2022, a plan that was already developed with expert guidance, they’ve gone back to the same failed methods.”

The 2022 National Action Plan, designed under the leadership of elephant researcher Dr. Prithiviraj Fernando, laid out a roadmap for coexistence. It emphasised landscape-level management, seasonal crop protection fences, and community participation over costly translocations and drives. For a brief moment, that shift seemed to work. “In 2024, both elephant and human deaths declined for the first time in nine years,” Prakash recalled. “That progress came from reducing elephant drives and focusing on practical, locally-led solutions.”

However, when the new administration took office, the plan was quietly shelved, and the Presidential Committee that oversaw it was dissolved. “The President instructed officials to form district-level committees instead,” said Prakash. “It sounds good on paper, but those committees have no funding, no authority, and no link to the national framework. It’s bureaucracy disguised as progress.”

The pitfalls of ignoring science

Few have studied Sri Lanka’s elephants as extensively as Dr. Prithiviraj Fernando. His team’s work with GPS-collared elephants has repeatedly proven that translocations and drives, the methods still being promoted by the government, simply don’t work. “When elephants are driven into parks, they don’t stay there,” Fernando said. “Most return to their home ranges. Some die along the way. And those that survive become even more aggressive toward humans.”

Fernando added that the practice also creates unseen suffering. “During drives, thousands of elephant firecrackers are used. Gunfire is common. Families get separated. Calves are lost. And when these elephants are forced into fenced parks with limited food, many starve.” Research conducted by his organisation, the Centre for Conservation and Research (CCR), found that parks like Udawalawe – already holding densities of around three elephants per square kilometre- can’t support additional herds. In contrast, mature forests like Wilpattu can sustain only about 0.1 elephants per square kilometre. “The idea of enriching habitats by clearing forests to make more space is ecologically absurd,” he said.

The numbers game

The Government’s “habitat enrichment” plan, touted in the budget as a fresh initiative, has been criticised by experts as financially and environmentally unrealistic. Prakash pointed out that converting dense forest into scrubland to increase carrying capacity is neither sustainable nor affordable. “To create enough space for just one elephant, you’d have to clear about 80 acres of forest,” he explained. “At a cost of around Rs. 30,000 per acre, that’s Rs. 2.4 million per elephant. Multiply that by 4,000 elephants living outside protected areas, and you’re talking about nearly Rs. 10 billion a year. It’s a fantasy, not a policy.”

He believes the Government’s focus on quick, visible measures like fencing stems from political pressure rather than scientific reasoning. “Electric fences look good in photographs. They give the illusion of action,” he said. “But within months, maintenance lapses, elephants break through, and farmers are left to rebuild with their own money. The cycle repeats, and the problem only deepens.”

The human toll

Behind the figures and policy failures are the communities living at the frontline of this conflict. In many villages across the dry zone, dusk brings fear. Farmers sleep in makeshift tree huts to guard their crops, women cook with one ear tuned for rustling leaves, and children learn to identify the distant rumble of an approaching elephant. “We talk about economics and policy, but for them, it’s survival,” Prakash said quietly. “These are people who voted for change because they believed they would finally be heard.”

The irony, he adds, is that Sri Lanka already has the knowledge and capacity to reduce conflict; what’s missing is political will. “We have the data, we have tested solutions, and we have communities willing to work with us,” he said. “What we don’t have is a Government that listens to science. Every year, we watch both humans and elephants die, while the same failed ideas get repackaged as new policy.”

A question of will

As Parliament debates allocations and percentages, the gap between policy and reality continues to widen. The 2026 budget, Prakash argued, reflects not a lack of resources but a lack of vision. “This is a country that prides itself on compassion and heritage. Yet we’re losing hundreds of elephants a year, our national symbol, because we can’t move past 1950s thinking,” he stated.

Dr. Fernando agrees that coexistence, not confinement, is the only viable path forward. “We cannot fence out elephants from human space,” he said. “We have to manage the shared landscape with people. That means smarter land use, seasonal fencing, and consistent community engagement. Anything else is just noise.”

“We are running out of time,” Prakash warned of current strategies, noting that fences will go up again, budgets will be spent, and both elephants and villagers will continue to pay the price. “If we don’t change course now, the next generation will inherit a landscape without elephants, and without the farmers who once lived beside them.”