• The tragic loss of one of the Nation's most iconic tuskers must transcend routine public mourning and ignite permanent change

Sri Lanka has lost Kavantissa. One of our most remarkable wild tuskers, admired for his extraordinary height and imposing presence, is gone after being shot and enduring weeks of declining health. The final days of his life were spent not moving majestically through the landscape of Galgamuwa, but struggling to survive as veterinarians worked to save him.

There is grief, and there should be. But grief alone is not a conservation policy. Kavantissa’s death should leave us with an uncomfortable question: How could an elephant so well known, so closely watched and so visibly at risk have been shot in the first place?

We knew the dangers. We had experienced earlier tragedies. We had warnings, legislation and institutions tasked with his protection. Yet, we are once again confronting the loss of an iconic tusker. If this moment ends with tributes and photographs, we will have failed him twice.

A shooting that should have sounded every alarm

On 20 September, wildlife enthusiast Pathum Bandara observed Kavantissa around Galgamuwa. The following day (21 September) he noticed the tusker limping. A closer examination identified a gunshot injury to his right foreleg, near the knee. The Department of Wildlife Conservation subsequently arranged veterinary treatment, including wound cleaning and antibiotics.

This was not an unexplained illness in a remote forest. Kavantissa had been shot. That fact alone should have demanded urgent protection, sustained medical monitoring and a determined investigation into who fired at a protected wild animal.

By early this month (October), the authorities publicly described him as recovering. But, his condition subsequently deteriorated, with reports of a loss of appetite and other complications. On 16 October, he was found collapsed in a paddy field near Siyambalangamuwa, as veterinary teams provided intensive treatment.

We should recognise the difficulty of treating a free-ranging, severely ill elephant. Wildlife veterinarians and field officers work in risky conditions, often with limited personnel and equipment. Their efforts should not be casually dismissed. Equally, respect for their work cannot be used to prevent scrutiny of the wider system.

The shooting, treatment timeline and deterioration warrant a transparent veterinary and administrative review. What did repeated examinations show? How consistently was he monitored? Were specialist interventions available soon enough? What obstacles faced the field teams? A medical review should establish the precise chain of events leading to death, rather than leaving the public to guess.

Accountability is not the same as accusing individual veterinarians. It is the obligation to determine what could have been done differently, and to act on the findings.

We keep confusing rescue with conservation

Kavantissa’s story exposes a familiar pattern. An elephant is wounded. An emergency response follows. Officials issue statements. Public concern intensifies. Then, when the immediate crisis passes, so does much of the attention.

That is crisis management, not prevention.

Elephants do not recognise the administrative boundaries of parks and reserves. They travel between forest patches, tanks, agricultural lands and villages according to ecological patterns that long predate our roads and settlements. Reuters reported in October that around 70 per cent of Sri Lanka’s wild elephants live outside protected areas. Protection cannot end at a signboard marking a national park.

The human-elephant conflict (HEC) is often described as though it was an unavoidable contest between farmers and wildlife. It is not that simple. Habitat fragmentation, poorly planned development, disrupted movement routes and changing land use have increased risky encounters. An animal moving across its familiar range can become a target because the landscape around it has changed.

For especially vulnerable tuskers, preventive conservation must involve identifying recurring threats, coordinating monitoring across jurisdictions and protecting movement corridors. Tracking tools may help, technology is no substitute for capable field teams, sound ecological planning and responsible enforcement.

It should never take a nationally recognised tusker collapsing in a field to mobilise national urgency.

The warning from Dala Poottuwa

Kavantissa was not the first elephant whose loss forced Sri Lanka to ask painful questions. In 2017, the killing of Dala Poottuwa shocked the Nation. An official National Audit Office report later documented shortcomings in the measures taken to protect him despite earlier injuries and vulnerability, and raised concerns about movement monitoring.

That history matters because it transforms today’s outrage into a question of institutional memory. Which recommendations were implemented? Which gaps remain? Who is responsible for checking whether lessons from previous elephant deaths actually alter the field practice?

We cannot treat each tragedy as an isolated shock. A country that investigates a failure but does not follow through on reform has not truly learned from it.

For our remaining tuskers, the consequences of that indifference are enormous. Tusks are rare among male Asian elephants in Sri Lanka. Mongabay reported estimates suggesting that only a small minority of the island’s wild elephants carry them. Their rarity draws admiration, but can also make individuals identifiable and vulnerable. Protection should be based on risk, not popularity; every elephant deserves safety, including the many that never receive a name.

The farmers are not the enemy

Any serious discussion of Kavantissa must also acknowledge the people living alongside elephants. Rural families experience destroyed crops, damaged homes, interrupted livelihoods and devastating loss of life. These are not abstract costs. A farmer guarding a field at night is also entitled to safety.

Reuters reported that since 2019, Sri Lanka has averaged roughly 402 elephant deaths and 138 human deaths per year in the HEC. Behind those figures are grieving families and communities carrying a disproportionate burden of the country’s land-use decisions.

It is neither fair nor effective to demand that villagers tolerate danger in the name of conservation. Nor is shooting an elephant a legitimate solution to the structural problems that bring people and wildlife into conflict.

Coexistence requires properly located and maintained community-protection fencing, timely warnings, responsive field teams, workable compensation and genuine local participation. Farmers must be involved in deciding what measures are practical. Their knowledge of elephant movements is valuable, and their cooperation will not be won through lectures or blame.

The real choice is not between protecting people and protecting elephants. A competent national response must do both.

What meaningful accountability looks like?

We need more than another committee created after a beloved elephant dies. We need a limited number of concrete obligations, publicly tracked.

First, publish a clear account of Kavantissa’s shooting and subsequent care. The authorities should make the key findings of a veterinary review available, including the established cause of death, while protecting sensitive operational information and respecting the professionals involved.

Second, investigate the shooting thoroughly. If evidence identifies an offender, the law must be enforced. Too often, the disappearance of public attention can become the disappearance of accountability.

Third, create a risk-based protection system for vulnerable wild elephants, not just famous tuskers. Previous injuries, known conflict hotspots, seasonal movements and threats from firearms or illegal electrical installations should trigger practical responses and named institutional responsibilities.

Fourth, resource the people already expected to deliver conservation. Local media reported concerns about shortages of wildlife veterinarians and officers. Strong laws are of limited use without trained staff, reliable vehicles, communications and access to specialist care.

Fifth, treat elephant movement routes as a land-use planning priority. Roads, agricultural expansion and development approvals must account for where elephants actually travel, rather than assuming that conservation is contained within protected areas.

Finally, place communities at the centre of the coexistence policy. That means sustained financing, maintenance and feedback mechanisms, rather than one-off projects launched for publicity.

These are not radical demands. They are the minimum requirements of a conservation system that intends to prevent avoidable deaths.

The measure of a Nation’s love

Sri Lanka celebrates elephants in religion, art, tourism and the national identity. We give extraordinary tuskers royal names. We photograph them, speak of their grandeur and call them national treasures.

Admiration is easy. Protection is a harder, quieter responsibility, undertaken before the cameras arrive.

Kavantissa was not precious only because he was exceptionally tall or carried magnificent tusks. He mattered because he was a living wild elephant with a place in this island’s ecology. His life was not ours to celebrate while leaving the dangers around him unresolved.

His death should be the point at which we stop treating repeated warnings as routine background noise. Let there be a credible investigation, visible reform and better protection for the animals that remain. Let there be equal seriousness about the fears and losses of rural families.

We cannot bring Kavantissa back. We can, however, decide whether his loss changes what we do next.

A country does not prove its love for elephants by how deeply it mourns them. It proves that love by how determined it is to keep them alive.

The writer is a climate specialist with a background in environmental management, and a sustainability and development professional

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The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the writer, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication