The satyagraha staged by fishermen demanding the lifting of restrictions on mechanised beach seine fishing, has exposed a fault line in the Nation’s fisheries governance. At its heart lies a tension between environmental sustainability and economic survival, between laws designed for a different era and livelihoods struggling to remain viable in the present one.
Beach seine fishing, or ma-del, is among the oldest fishing practices along Sri Lanka’s coast. For generations, it has been a communal activity rooted in manual labour, shared ownership and carefully demarcated coastal zones. These features were not incidental. They limited fishing effort, reduced ecological damage and ensured that benefits were distributed among coastal communities rather than concentrated in a few hands. The legal framework governing ma-del fishing, particularly regulations dating back to the 1980s, sought to preserve this balance by explicitly discouraging mechanisation.
Yet, the protests now unfolding suggest that this balance no longer holds for many fishers. Rising labour costs, persistent labour shortages and declining catches have made manual hauling increasingly impractical. What once relied on large groups of able-bodied workers now struggles to assemble even a fraction of the manpower required. For fishers facing mounting debts and shrinking margins, tractor mounted winches are not a symbol of greed or excess but a tool of survival.
This economic reality cannot be dismissed lightly. Fishing communities are already among the most vulnerable groups in the country. Fuel price hikes, climate variability, declining nearshore fish stocks and weak social protection have steadily eroded their resilience. When authorities enforce long-standing bans on mechanisation without offering credible alternatives, fishers understandably see regulation as punishment, not as protection. The satyagraha is therefore not merely a protest against a specific ban. It is a cry against policy inertia.
At the same time, the environmental arguments against mechanised ma-del fishing are far from abstract. Tractors and winches alter the very nature of beach seine operations. They enable faster hauling, more frequent net pulls and heavier nets, increasing fishing pressure on already stressed coastal ecosystems. The physical impact of heavy machinery on beaches, dunes and nearshore habitats is well documented. Once mechanisation becomes normalised, the risk of escalation is real, as larger operators outcompete smaller groups, leading to overexploitation.
Sri Lanka’s experience with bottom trawling offers a cautionary parallel. That destructive practice was eventually banned precisely because short-term economic gains came at an unacceptable ecological cost. Allowing mechanised beach seine fishing without strict controls risks repeating this mistake in a different form. What begins as a livelihood support measure could quickly undermine the very sustainability that coastal fisheries depend on.
The real failure does not lie in the law itself but in the absence of adaptive governance. Regulations have remained largely static while socio-economic conditions have changed dramatically. Enforcement has become sporadic and reactive, flaring up only when public pressure or litigation demands action. This creates resentment and fuels the perception that decisions are arbitrary rather than evidence based.
A choice between a total ban and unrestricted mechanisation is neither necessary nor wise. What is required is a nuanced regulatory approach that recognises both ecological limits and human realities. Controlled mechanisation, restricted by horsepower limits, seasonal controls, designated zones and cooperative ownership models, could be explored through pilot programmes rather than imposed or rejected outright. Environmental impact assessments should inform policy, not follow protests.
Equally important is meaningful consultation. Fishing communities are more likely to comply with regulations they help shape. Dialogue should go beyond token meetings and focus on co-management frameworks where fishers share responsibility for conservation outcomes. Support for alternative livelihoods, access to affordable credit and investment in post-harvest value addition could also reduce pressure on nearshore fisheries.
The satyagraha over mechanised ma-del fishing is a reminder that sustainability cannot be enforced solely through prohibitions. It must be negotiated, updated and grounded in social justice. Protecting coastal ecosystems and protecting fishing livelihoods are not opposing goals. When policy treats them as such, it fails both.
Sri Lanka has the legal tools and institutional knowledge to manage this transition sensibly. However, it lacks the political will to move beyond outdated binaries. If this moment is used to rethink, rather than merely reaffirm existing regulations, it could mark the beginning of a more credible and humane fisheries policy. If not, the cycle of protest, enforcement and resentment will continue, to the detriment of fishers and the sea alike.