• A country cannot wait for the dengue season and then try to clean its way out of a crisis
•  Dragonflies attack mosquitoes before they become flying adults and after they emerge

Every year, when the rains arrive, Sri Lanka seems to enter the same familiar cycle. Drains overflow. Discarded cups, tins, coconut shells and plastic containers collect water. School compounds and construction sites are inspected. Public health inspectors move from house to house. Fogging machines begin to echo through lanes and neighbourhoods. Then come the numbers: dengue cases rising, hospital wards filling, children missing school, parents missing work and families anxiously watching fever charts at home.

Dengue is not new to Sri Lanka. That is precisely the problem. We have lived with it for so long that it has almost become part of our annual vocabulary. We panic when cases rise, clean when inspections begin and relax when the numbers fall. Then, with the next season of rain, the cycle begins again. This pattern should make us uncomfortable because it shows that our response is still too reactive. A country cannot wait for the dengue season and then try to clean its way out of a crisis.

In 2026, Sri Lanka was again reminded that dengue is not a small public health inconvenience. According to the National Dengue Control Unit's (NDCU) daily update, Sri Lanka had recorded 56,422 dengue cases and 35 deaths by midnight on 1 July. The same official update showed that the Western Province accounted for 29,602 cases, or 52.47 per cent of the national total, with Colombo and Gampaha alone recording more than 22,700 cases combined. These figures show why dengue cannot be treated as a temporary nuisance. It is a serious national health burden with a clear urban and environmental pattern.

Reuters had already reported on 19 June that Sri Lanka was facing its worst dengue surge in years, with more than 44,000 cases and 28 deaths recorded since January at that point. The report also noted that case numbers had nearly doubled from April to the first two weeks of last month (June), and that public hospitals were under pressure. Officials linked the worsening situation to unplanned urbanisation and debris left after Cyclone Ditwah, which created more mosquito breeding places. Whether we look at the official figures or the news reports, the message is the same: dengue is no longer only a health-sector problem. It is a warning about how we build, manage and neglect our environments.

A waste management problem

Behind every case is a household disrupted. A feverish child. A parent waiting for a blood report. A daily wage earner unable to work. A school attendance record broken. A hospital bed occupied. A public health team stretched beyond capacity. Dengue is often described simply as a mosquito problem, but, in reality, it is also a waste management problem, an urban planning problem, a climate resilience problem, a public behaviour problem and, importantly, an ecological problem.

The disease is transmitted to humans through the bites of infected female mosquitoes, mainly Aedes aegypti, while Aedes albopictus can also contribute to transmission. These mosquitoes are well adapted to the human environment. They do not need a marsh, a lake or a large pond to breed. They can breed in small artificial containers around homes, schools and workplaces. The United States Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) notes that dengue-spreading mosquitoes commonly lay eggs in containers that hold water, including buckets, bowls, animal dishes, flowerpots and vases. In Sri Lanka, we can add roof gutters, discarded yoghurt cups, broken plastic toys, blocked drains, old tyres, construction-site containers and refrigerator trays to that list.

This is why dengue feels so difficult to defeat. The mosquito is not living far away from us; it is living with us. It thrives in the small mistakes of everyday life: the cup thrown behind a wall, the tyre left uncovered, the gutter never cleaned, the water tank not properly sealed, and the construction site not supervised. Dengue is born in the spaces between public responsibility and private neglect.

At the same time, it would be unfair to place the entire burden on households. Many communities live with poor drainage, irregular waste collection, overcrowding, unmanaged urban growth and weak enforcement around construction sites. If a city grows faster than its drainage and waste systems, dengue will follow. If urban development produces blocked drains, heat, debris and stagnant water, then the city itself becomes part of the disease system. This is why dengue prevention must move beyond the annual reminder to 'keep your garden clean.' It must become part of how we design and govern our towns.

Fogging has its place, especially during outbreaks when adult mosquito populations must be reduced quickly. But, fogging is not a long-term imagination of dengue control. It is an emergency tool, not a permanent solution. The best dengue response must attack the problem before the mosquito flies. That means reducing breeding places, monitoring risk areas, educating communities, enforcing construction-site standards, improving waste collection, managing water responsibly and using science to understand local ecology.

Dragonflies

This is where dragonflies enter the story. Dragonflies are among the most beautiful insects in wetlands, ponds, paddy fields, canals, streams and garden water bodies. For many people, they are simply part of the scenery. Dragonflies are also predators. Adult dragonflies feed on small flying insects, and their aquatic larvae, called nymphs, live in the water and prey on other small aquatic organisms, including mosquito larvae. In simple terms, dragonflies can attack mosquitoes at two stages of life: before they become flying adults and after they emerge.

This does not mean that dragonflies are a miracle cure for dengue. They are not. No responsible environmentalist or public health worker should claim that releasing dragonflies will make dengue disappear. Dengue is too complex for a single solution. But, dragonflies can help us think differently. They remind us that mosquito control does not have to be only chemical, fearful and seasonal. It can also be ecological, preventive, educational and community-based.

There is scientific support for this direction. A 2023 meta-analysis published in the Journal of Animal Ecology concluded that dragonflies and damselflies can provide the effective biological control of mosquitoes, and that environmental planning to promote them could help lower the risk of mosquito-borne disease in an environmentally friendly and cost-effective way. This is not a social media myth or a gardening rumour; it is a finding supported by a review of scientific studies.

Sri Lanka also has local evidence worth taking seriously. A 2018 study investigated the larvicidal potential of five locally available dragonfly nymphs against Aedes aegypti larvae under laboratory conditions. The study did not prove that dragonflies alone can control dengue in the field, but, it did show that locally available dragonfly nymphs have a predatory potential against the very mosquito species that drives dengue transmission. That is important, because it means that Sri Lanka does not have to look only to imported technologies or distant models. Some of the answers may already exist in our own ecosystems, if we study and manage them carefully.

There has also been field-level interest in using dragonfly larvae as part of mosquito control. A study in Yangon, Myanmar, examined the suppression of Aedes aegypti using the augmentative release of dragonfly larvae with community participation. Again, this should not be interpreted as a ready-made model that Sri Lanka can copy tomorrow. Different countries have different ecological and social conditions. But, it does show that dragonfly-based biological control has moved beyond theory and laboratory curiosity. It is a serious area for research, experimentation and careful public health discussion.

Education and habitat awareness

The most useful role of dragonflies in Sri Lanka may not begin with mass release programmes. It may begin with education and habitat awareness. Many dengue campaigns teach people to destroy all standing water, but, the message needs refinement. A plastic cup filled with rainwater behind a house is a dengue risk. A neglected tyre is a dengue risk. A clogged roof gutter is a dengue risk. But, a healthy, well-managed pond with ecological balance, predator insects, appropriate vegetation and no artificial container breeding is not the same thing. The challenge is not simply water; the challenge is unmanaged, stagnant, artificial breeding spaces.

This distinction matters because Sri Lanka has many wetlands, irrigation systems, paddy landscapes, home gardens, village tanks and urban canals where biodiversity still plays a role. When these systems are polluted, filled, fragmented or converted into dumping grounds, we lose more than the scenery. We lose the ecological balance. We lose natural predators. We lose flood control. We lose cooling. We lose outdoor classrooms for children. And sometimes, when the environment is damaged, disease finds an easier path back to us.

For schools, the dragonfly can become a powerful teaching tool. Instead of limiting dengue prevention to cleaning campaigns, students can learn the life cycle of the Aedes mosquito, identify common breeding sites, observe dragonflies and damselflies in safe natural habitats, map waste hotspots around their school and understand how plastic pollution creates a disease risk. Such activities would combine science education, environmental education and public health education. Children would not merely be told to fear mosquitoes; they would understand why dengue happens and what prevents it.

For Local Councils, the lesson is equally practical. Dengue prevention should be part of urban management. Construction sites must be inspected before they become breeding factories. Public drains must be cleared before heavy rains. Waste collection must be reliable enough to prevent plastic accumulation. Abandoned properties must be monitored. Urban wetlands and canals must be restored, not treated as convenient dumping places. When Local Authorities protect healthy water bodies and remove artificial breeding sites, they are not only doing environmental work; they are doing health work.

For households, the weekly routine still matters. The CDC recommends taking steps to control mosquitoes in and around homes, including preventing bites and managing mosquito breeding areas. In Sri Lanka, this means checking gutters, water tanks, flowerpots, refrigerator trays, pet bowls, discarded containers, tyres and any object that can hold water. It also means talking to neighbours, because one neglected property can place an entire lane at risk. Dengue prevention cannot succeed as a private activity alone. It must become a neighbourhood habit.

The climate dimension also cannot be ignored. Warmer conditions, intense rainfall, flooding, humidity and debris after extreme weather can all influence mosquito breeding and disease transmission. Sri Lanka's dengue problem must therefore be included in climate adaptation planning. Climate resilience is not only about sea walls, renewable energy and disaster response. It is also about preventing climate-sensitive diseases from becoming more frequent and more damaging. If rainfall patterns become more unpredictable and cities remain poorly managed, the dengue risk will remain high.

Nature’s systems of control and balance

The dragonfly, then, is not presented here as a magical insect that will save Sri Lanka. It is presented as a symbol and a scientific clue. It tells us that nature has systems of control and balance. When we destroy those systems and replace them with concrete, plastic, polluted drains and emergency chemicals, pests often benefit. The answer is not to abandon modern public health. The answer is to combine modern public health with ecological intelligence.

Sri Lanka needs an integrated dengue strategy that includes surveillance, clinical preparedness, public education, household source reduction, Local Government enforcement, climate-sensitive planning and responsible biological control research. The European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control describes integrated vector management, intersectoral collaboration and community participation as important for sustainable vector control. That is the kind of thinking that Sri Lanka needs now: not one Ministry, not one campaign, not one fogging machine, but a whole-of-society response.

A practical next step would be for universities, the NDCU, environmental organisations and Local Councils to work together on small pilot projects. These could compare mosquito larvae levels in different water-body types, study the presence of dragonflies and other predators, test habitat improvements under expert supervision and create school-based dengue ecology programmes. Such pilots must be careful, evidence-based and transparent. They should not encourage people to create unmanaged ponds or move wildlife irresponsibly. The goal should be to understand how healthy ecological systems can support, not replace, proven dengue-control methods.

Public communication must also change. People are tired of seasonal warnings. A more effective campaign would show exactly where mosquitoes breed, how quickly containers become risky, how communities can act together and how biodiversity fits into the larger picture. A message that says 'remove breeding sites' is necessary, but, a message that explains why waste, water, mosquitoes, dragonflies, wetlands and health are connected can create deeper understanding. Behaviour changes when people see the system, not just the instruction.

Don’t wait for the dengue season

Dengue is a reminder that environmental work is not separate from human suffering. A wetland protected today may reduce tomorrow's flood risk. A clean drain today may prevent next month's fever. A school garden that teaches children about dragonflies may also teach them that biodiversity is not decoration; it is protection. A city that manages waste properly is not only cleaner; it is healthier.

Sri Lanka's dengue epidemic asks us to become more mature in the way that we think about health. Hospitals matter, the fight begins before the hospital. Doctors matter, so do waste workers, teachers, engineers, planners, Local Councillors, parents, students and environmental groups. Fogging machines matter during emergencies, they cannot substitute for clean neighbourhoods, accountable construction sites, functioning drains and restored ecosystems.

A country that waits for the dengue season will always be late. A country that understands the ecology of dengue has a chance to be ready. The dragonfly hovering above a pond or a paddy field is not offering a simple cure. It is offering a lesson: when nature is healthy, communities are safer. Sri Lanka should listen to that lesson before the next outbreak begins.

The writer is an eco-social entrepreneur who has been engaging in and supporting organic farming and agriculture with rural communities while harnessing traditional farming practices that incorporate technology and apiaries for regenerative agro-ecology 

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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