By: Roger Srivasan
october 04, Colombo (LNW):
Sri Lanka’s ambitious renewable energy targets have placed Mannar Island at the heart of
a historic transformation. The Thambapavani Wind Farm, with its first 30 turbines already
operational, has been hailed as a flagship project — a step towards reducing fossil fuel
dependence, strengthening energy security, and cutting carbon emissions. Yet, beneath
this narrative of clean progress, a storm of local opposition is gathering force.
Demonstrations in Mannar reflect a profound unease: that the very project meant to
secure a greener future may be destabilising the fragile landscape and imperilling local
lives.
The Public Outcry: Floods, Wells, and Wellsprings of Distrust
Residents insist that since Phase I began, flooding has worsened dramatically. Fields lie
waterlogged for weeks, crops rot, pit latrines overflow, and drinking wells are polluted.
They argue that the turbine foundations, access roads, and cable trenches have disrupted
natural drainage, blocking water flow during the northeast monsoon. The community’s
fears are not mere speculation. In a flat, flood-prone island like Mannar, even minor
obstructions to watercourses can transform seasonal inconveniences into prolonged
disasters. Coupled with weak consultation and poor transparency, the sense of betrayal is
palpable.
Beyond Flooding: Ecology and Livelihoods at Stake
Mannar is more than a windy plain. It is a globally significant bird migration hotspot, a
mosaic of wetlands and fisheries that sustain both biodiversity and livelihoods.
Conservationists warn that turbine strings and associated roads could fragment habitats,
endanger migratory species, and degrade wetlands that naturally buffer floods. For
farmers and fishers, the stakes are immediate: disrupted land, declining yields, and altered
access to coastal resources. The promise of renewable energy feels distant when daily
survival is at risk.
The National Imperative: Energy Security and Climate Goals
Yet the counterargument is powerful. Sri Lanka imports the bulk of its fossil fuels, leaving
the economy exposed to volatile global markets. Expanding wind power on Mannar could
displace costly oil and coal, stabilise long-term energy prices, and help meet urgent
climate commitments. Wind energy is clean, renewable, and increasingly cost-effective. Its
carbon savings benefit not just Mannar but the entire nation — a collective good that
cannot be ignored.
Where the Balance Lies
The dilemma, then, is stark: local harm versus national gain. But it need not be an
either–or equation. Hydrological safeguards — frequent culverts, open channels, and
seasonal construction windows — can mitigate flooding risks. Wetland buffers and
ecological corridors can preserve biodiversity and migration pathways. Transparent
monitoring and independent audits can rebuild trust. Benefit sharing — jobs, local
electrification, and improved drainage — can ensure that Mannar’s people are not asked
to sacrifice for free. Without these safeguards, expansion would be reckless. With them,
Mannar can indeed host wind power responsibly.
The Best Interest of Sri Lanka
In the final analysis, the people of Mannar are right to raise their voices. Their fears are
grounded in real vulnerabilities and lived experience. At the same time, Sri Lanka cannot
afford to abandon its renewable energy vision.
The best interest of the nation — and Mannar — lies in conditional progress: expand only after independent verification, genuine
consultation, and visible safeguards are in place. A “fix first, then phase” approach offers a
path where energy security and community resilience move forward together.
Conclusion
Mannar’s winds are a gift of nature, capable of powering the nation for generations. But if
ignored, the same winds may also fan the flames of resentment and mistrust. The true
measure of progress is not how many turbines stand tall, but how well a nation ensures
that its people and environment stand tall alongside them.
Sri Lanka’s ambitious renewable energy targets have placed Mannar Island at the heart of
a historic transformation. The Thambapavani Wind Farm, with its first 30 turbines already
operational, has been hailed as a flagship project — a step towards reducing fossil fuel
dependence, strengthening energy security, and cutting carbon emissions. Yet, beneath
this narrative of clean progress, a storm of local opposition is gathering force.
Demonstrations in Mannar reflect a profound unease: that the very project meant to
secure a greener future may be destabilising the fragile landscape and imperilling local
lives.
The Public Outcry: Floods, Wells, and Wellsprings of Distrust
Residents insist that since Phase I began, flooding has worsened dramatically. Fields lie
waterlogged for weeks, crops rot, pit latrines overflow, and drinking wells are polluted.
They argue that the turbine foundations, access roads, and cable trenches have disrupted
natural drainage, blocking water flow during the northeast monsoon. The community’s
fears are not mere speculation. In a flat, flood-prone island like Mannar, even minor
obstructions to watercourses can transform seasonal inconveniences into prolonged
disasters. Coupled with weak consultation and poor transparency, the sense of betrayal is
palpable.
Beyond Flooding: Ecology and Livelihoods at Stake
Mannar is more than a windy plain. It is a globally significant bird migration hotspot, a
mosaic of wetlands and fisheries that sustain both biodiversity and livelihoods.
Conservationists warn that turbine strings and associated roads could fragment habitats,
endanger migratory species, and degrade wetlands that naturally buffer floods. For
farmers and fishers, the stakes are immediate: disrupted land, declining yields, and altered
access to coastal resources. The promise of renewable energy feels distant when daily
survival is at risk.
The National Imperative: Energy Security and Climate Goals
Yet the counterargument is powerful. Sri Lanka imports the bulk of its fossil fuels, leaving
the economy exposed to volatile global markets. Expanding wind power on Mannar could
displace costly oil and coal, stabilise long-term energy prices, and help meet urgent
climate commitments. Wind energy is clean, renewable, and increasingly cost-effective. Its
carbon savings benefit not just Mannar but the entire nation — a collective good that
cannot be ignored.
Where the Balance Lies
The dilemma, then, is stark: local harm versus national gain. But it need not be an
either–or equation. Hydrological safeguards — frequent culverts, open channels, and
seasonal construction windows — can mitigate flooding risks. Wetland buffers and
ecological corridors can preserve biodiversity and migration pathways. Transparent
monitoring and independent audits can rebuild trust. Benefit sharing — jobs, local
electrification, and improved drainage — can ensure that Mannar’s people are not asked
to sacrifice for free. Without these safeguards, expansion would be reckless. With them,
Mannar can indeed host wind power responsibly.
The Best Interest of Sri Lanka
In the final analysis, the people of Mannar are right to raise their voices. Their fears are
grounded in real vulnerabilities and lived experience. At the same time, Sri Lanka cannot
afford to abandon its renewable energy vision.
The best interest of the nation — and Mannar — lies in conditional progress: expand only after independent verification, genuine
consultation, and visible safeguards are in place. A “fix first, then phase” approach offers a
path where energy security and community resilience move forward together.
Conclusion
Mannar’s winds are a gift of nature, capable of powering the nation for generations. But if
ignored, the same winds may also fan the flames of resentment and mistrust. The true
measure of progress is not how many turbines stand tall, but how well a nation ensures
that its people and environment stand tall alongside them.
