Sri Lanka’s Green New Deal Was a Human Disaster
An ill-advised national experiment in organic farming yielded starvation, poverty and political chaos.
By Tunku Varadarajan
July 14, 2022 6:32 pm ET
The Green Revolution of Norman Borlaug, the American agronomist who did more to feed the world than any man before or since, set Sri Lanka on the path to agricultural abundance in 1970. It was built around chemical fertilizers and crops bred to be disease-resistant. Fifty-two years later, Sri Lanka has pulled off a revolution that is “antigreen” in the modern sense, toppling its president, Gotabaya Rajapaksa. In an uprising that has its roots in Mr. Rajapaksa’s imperious decision to impose organic farming on the entire country—which led to widespread hunger after the agricultural economy collapsed—Sri Lanka’s people have wrought the first contra-organic national uprising in history.
Footage of protesters swarming the presidential palace—splashing in the swimming pool, watching cricket on television in the bedroom, making tea in the lavish kitchen—resembled the mass break-in at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, but with none of the menace of the American trespass. Mr. Rajapaksa was in fact an American citizen until 2019, the year he was elected Sri Lanka’s president. He has now fled the country.
Will this environmental visionary be offered refuge at Berkeley? At the headquarters of the Sierra Club? Or even by the Biden administration? Perhaps not, for he bears on his head some serious accusations of war crimes that would make housing him inconvenient. But the truth is, Mr. Rajapaksa was driven from office in part because he was an overzealous green warrior, who imposed on his countrymen a policy that the American environmental left holds sacred.
Sri Lanka came to detest Mr. Rajapaksa for other reasons too. He was an autocrat, the latest in the Rajapaksa political dynasty to be president after his elder brother Mahinda, who held the office from 2005-15. Mahinda was a ruthless president, waging a scorched-earth war against Tamil separatists in the country’s north that resulted in a resounding victory for the Sri Lankan army in 2009. Gotabaya Rajapaksa was defense secretary during the war and is accused of signing off on tactics that resulted in the deaths of thousands of civilians.
The Rajapaksa method—take the action you want, the consequences be damned—may have worked to win one of the bloodiest civil wars in modern times. But it was jarring in peacetime, as Sri Lankans found themselves ruled by a pair of brothers who consulted no one and did as they pleased. Corruption soared alongside the nepotism and despotism. Sri Lankans, whose literacy rate is among the highest in Asia and who are classified as middle-income by the World Bank, found this state of affairs increasingly intolerable.
Perhaps because of the seven years he spent living in America during the late 1990s and early 2000s, Mr. Rajapaksa was in thrall to green nostrums. He campaigned for president in 2019 on a platform that promised a form of technocratic utopia, including the commitment to turn Sri Lankan agriculture completely organic in a decade. He was particularly attentive to Vandana Shiva, a rabid Indian opponent of modern scientific agriculture. She considers Borlaug the enemy.
Covid hit Sri Lanka particularly hard, wiping out tourism, its economic mainstay. Heedless of this calamity, and of the wider impoverishment caused by lockdowns, Mr. Rajapaksa took a step that poleaxed Sri Lanka. On April 27, 2021—with no warning, and with no attempt to teach farmers how to cope with the change—he announced a ban on all synthetic fertilizers and pesticides. Henceforth, he decreed, Sri Lankan agriculture would be 100% organic. Agronomists and other scientists warned loudly of the catastrophe that would ensue, but they were ignored. This Sri Lankan Nero listened to no one.
Except, of course, to Ms. Shiva and other woke environmentalists, who rejoiced at the epochal nature of Mr. Rajapaksa’s decision. “Let us all join hands with Sri Lanka,” Ms. Shiva tweeted on June 10, 2021, “taking steps towards a #PoisonFree #PoisonCartelFree world for our health & the health of the planet.” Lost in all the ideological ululation was another likely explanation for Mr. Rajapaksa’s action: So debt-ridden was Sri Lanka—to China, in particular—that he may have decided to forgo imported fertilizer and pesticide as a money-saving measure.
What happened next? Rice production fell by 20% in the first 180 days of the ban on synthetic fertilizer. Tea, Sri Lanka’s main cash crop, has been hit hard, with exports at their lowest level in nearly a quarter-century. Whether from indignation over the new laws or an inability to go organic, farmers left a third of all farmland fallow. Food prices soared as a result of scarcity and Sri Lanka’s people, their pockets already hit by the pandemic, began to go hungry. To add to the stench of failure, a shipload of manure from China had to be turned back after samples revealed dangerous levels of bacteria. The farmers had no synthetic fertilizer, and hardly any of the organic kind.
So extensive was the damage done by his organic diktat that Mr. Rajapaksa had to reverse himself by November 2021. His scientific ineptitude was now matched by his economic illiteracy. Battling to salvage his political reputation, he agreed to compensate farmers for their losses, the bill for which totaled more than the money he’d ostensibly saved the country by banning imports of fertilizer in April 2021.
Organic activist groups are still in denial. The U.K.-based Soil Association tweeted this: “Lots of lessons to be learnt from Sri Lanka, but ‘see, organic doesn’t work’ isn’t one of them.” Mr. Rajapaksa, for his part, has had to pay for his hubris with his job. Had he not fled the country, it is more than likely that he would have paid for it with his life. Would that have made him a Green Martyr? We’ll never know. Sri Lanka must now turn to better ways: accountability, democracy, the rule of law and yes, modern scientific farming that can feed all of its 22 million people.
Mr. Varadarajan, a Journal contributor, is a fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and at Columbia University’s Center on Capitalism and Society.
===============
ET
Sri Lanka and the Start of a Starvation Pandemic
Gregory Copley
Gregory Copley
July 13, 2022 Updated: July 13, 2022biggersmaller Print
0:00
8:15
1
Commentary
Poor governmental decisions in many countries are leading to mass starvation–and public retaliation against their governments.
Sri Lanka’s current dire problems—in which popular street action has thrown out, first, a sitting prime minister, then his replacement, and then the sitting president—seem likely to be a precursor to similar actions elsewhere in the world.
And Sri Lanka’s problems are nowhere near being resolved as its population starves.
Moreover, eradicating the immediate symptoms of popular discontent does not guarantee that underlying structural problems have been eliminated. A significant and growing number of countries are presently facing mass discontent over economic and security issues, and some are close to the Sri Lankan situation.
Sri Lanka’s growing economic and political crisis seemed to have moved a step closer to resolution on July 11 when Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe announced—only two months after being appointed to his position—that he and his entire Cabinet would resign, along with President Gotabaya Rajapaksa, to clear the way for a new all-party unity government.
On July 13, Rajapaksa fled Sri Lanka with his wife, Ioma, to Male, the capital of the Maldives, on an old Sri Lankan Air Force Antonov An-32 twin-turboprop transport aircraft. Maldives air traffic control refused permission for the aircraft to land until the speaker of the Maldives Parliament intervened. There was no evidence that Rajapaksa had provided the constitutionally-necessary written resignation to the speaker of Parliament, but, de facto, Prime Minister Wickremesinghe became acting president and the focus of new mass public protests.
Therein lay some of the challenges.
Constitutionally, once the Sri Lankan president and prime minister formally resign (and the president must resign by letter to the speaker of Parliament), the speaker could then be appointed as acting president. Parliament would then vote within 30 days for a new president to complete the current presidential term, which is scheduled to end in 2024.
The problem of creating the new “all-party” government would lie, however, in the fact that Parliament itself remained dominated by the Rajapaksa-dominated People’s Freedom Alliance (SLPFA), which controls 145 of the 225 seats in Parliament, with only the Samagi Jana Balawegaya (SJB), formed in 2020, with any substantial number of seats (45), and the remainder held in ones and twos by small parties.
In other words, the new government to be formed after the collapse of the Rajapaksa administration would still, in essence, be controlled by the Rajapaksa family, at least in the eyes of the protesters who had demanded an end to the Rajapaksa era.
Epoch Times Photo
A demonstrator wearing a mask of Sri Lanka’s President Gotabaya Rajapaksa takes part in a demonstration over the country’s crippling economic crisis near the parliament building in Colombo, Sri Lanka, on May 6, 2022. (Ishara S. Kodikara/AFP via Getty Images)
This was not lost on the protesters, who had targeted the homes of at least 40 ruling party parliamentarians in recent weeks.
However, in the interest of maintaining continuity as Sri Lanka continued to negotiate with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) over possible financial support, Central Bank Governor P. Nandalal Weerasinghe would remain in his post, saying he would serve out his six-year term.
The final collapse of the Rajapaksa administration occurred due to mass protests on July 9, targeting (and occupying) the homes of Rajapaksa and Wickremesinghe. And although the prime minister and speaker of Parliament announced that the president and government would step down on July 13, the president himself remained silent. Rajapaksa had been whisked to safety just before the mob descended on his official residence. Wickremesinghe’s private home was set on fire.
Border control officials on July 12 stopped the president’s brother and former finance minister, Basil Rajapaksa, from flying out of Sri Lanka. Still, it was understood he finally was able to leave. Meanwhile, no word was heard from another brother, former Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa, who had been removed from office on May 12 and replaced as an emergency measure by Ranil Wickremesinghe.
Sri Lanka’s economy had seemingly collapsed overnight in 2022, but the seeds of that collapse and ensuing food shortage had been sewn earlier. And the COVID-19 global health crisis had meant that tourism—Sri Lanka’s economic mainstay (12.6 percent of GDP in 2019)—had been wiped out between 2020 and 2022.
For various reasons, Sri Lanka was already on the way to an economic meltdown by the time then-Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa began his fifth premiership term on August 10, 2020.
President Gotabaya Rajapaksa, the former prime minister’s younger brother, in May 2021 compounded the problem by instituting a policy to make Sri Lanka the world’s first fully organic farming nation, banning all importation of agrochemicals, including fertilizers and pesticides. The move was ostensibly instituted to address a rise in kidney disease—thought to be the result of fertilizer exposure—among farmers.
But food production plummeted immediately (between 20 percent and 70 percent, depending on the crop), severely impacting the local supply of foods and major export crops, such as tea. This problem, the loss of local food and export revenues, coupled with a shortage of foreign exchange holdings, escalated the country’s economic crisis.
Epoch Times Photo
A farmer prepares a paddy field for sowing in Biyagama on the outskirts of Colombo, Sri Lanka, on Oct. 21, 2020. (Ishara S. Kodikara/AFP via Getty Images)
Farmers make up some 30 percent of the Sri Lankan labor force. And their output of rice, a staple of the local diet, fell between 40 and 50 percent during the growing season, known as Maha. As a result, Sri Lanka imported some 330,000 tons of rice in the first three months of 2021, compared with the 15,000 tons imported in 2020.
By May 2022, the government said that it would reinstate the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides, but it was too late: many farmers had left the land or had been bankrupted, and no funds were available to import fertilizer. In any event, the Ukraine war with Russia, which began in February 2022, severely impacted the availability of chemical fertilizers that had previously been key export commodities from Ukraine and Russia.
At the same time, Sri Lanka was forced to default on interest payments on its sovereign debt; it had run out of cash, and the country faced the reality that it had little food and no reserves of petrol and petroleum products. Widespread and rolling power cuts followed.
Riots and protests arose against the government in major urban areas. Prime Minister Mahinda Rajapaksa resigned on May 9, 2022, and his Sri Lanka Podujana Party offered to support a new government under an opposition leader. Still, it was clear that protesters also sought the resignation of the prime minister’s younger brother, President Gotabaya Rajapaksa.
Opposition leader and former Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe, 73, was sworn in on May 12, attempting to form a new unity government. Harsha De Silva, a member of the SJB, the largest opposition group in Parliament, was offered the finance ministry but rejected it, saying he would work with “the people” to remove the Rajapaksa administration. The Tamil National Alliance said the administration had “completely lost legitimacy” with the reappointment of Wickremesinghe.
A significant number of other societies face similar challenges to those of Sri Lanka, particularly in Africa. Popular discontent has recently been a key factor in other countries, such as Sudan. It looms in Iran, Egypt, Ethiopia, South Africa, mainland China, and elsewhere as food shortages begin to show. This is a starvation pandemic—caused by government decisions—that is about to burst onto the global stage.
Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.