January 19, 2026
By A. Jathindra
Development-related environmental debates in Sri Lanka rarely stay rooted in ecology—they are almost always colored by politics. The abandoned Adani wind power project in Mannar is a striking example.
Not long ago, selective Colombo-based “environmentalists” thundered against the Indian conglomerate, branding its plans as ecological disasters. Yet today, as a near-identical project advances under a local company, those same voices have fallen conspicuously silent. Was their outrage truly about protecting the environment—or was it stirred by a hidden geopolitical hand?
Recent reports indicate that 28 Pakistani nationals and two Chinese nationals engaged in Mannar’s wind project have departed following the completion of turbine installation. It has also been noted that two Pakistani workers, while venturing into the sea, were subsequently intercepted by Sri Lankan security forces. One might reasonably reflect—had the Adani project proceeded as originally envisioned, such circumstances may well have been avoided.
Viewed in this light, the opposition to Adani’s initiative appears less an expression of ecological concern and more a matter shaped by broader political considerations.
On January 15, 2025, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake inaugurated the construction of a 50megawatt wind farm in Mannar, developed by Hayleys Fentons Limited. Scheduled for completion in March 2027, the project is part of the government’s pledge to achieve netzero carbon emissions by 2050.
Mannar has long been recognized as one of Sri Lanka’s most promising renewable energy hubs. It was this very potential that drew Adani Green Energy, which proposed a 250 MW wind power project in the region. Yet, shortsighted local opposition forced the plan’s abandonment.
The Adani Group and India suffered no loss. But for Sri Lanka, it was the loss of a significant opportunity to harness clean energy and strengthen its power grid. The episode underscores a troubling pattern: environmental concerns seem to erupt most fiercely only when the projects carry an Indian nameplate.
At the time, Adani’s investment represented the first major foreign capital inflow since Sri Lanka’s bankruptcy during its historic economic crisis. Had it gone ahead, the project would have spurred development in the Northern Province. In January 2023, the Board of Investment approved a $422 million plan for Mannar and Pooneryn, expected to generate 484 MW of electricity—one of the largest green energy projects in the country.
However, the Mannar project faced a fundamental rights petition filed by Bishop Emmanuel Fernando and three environmentalists, who questioned the credibility of the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) and warned of potential financial losses. Yet the EIA—covering bird and bat studies—was conducted by the Sri Lanka Sustainable Energy Authority under the leadership of Professor Devaka Weerakoon of the University of Colombo. Despite this, the environmentalists sought to discredit the findings, claiming the wind farm would become a “death trap” for migratory birds.
Yet Colombobased environmental groups opposing Adani never highlighted these facts or proposed alternatives. Instead, they misled local communities, with religious leaders echoing flawed guidance. This begs the question: will the 50 MW projects now underway not harm birds? Will migratory species be spared?
The silence following Adani’s withdrawal suggests the protests were less about ecology and more about politics—specifically, blocking Indian investment. Meanwhile, far more environmentally damaging projects, such as the Chineseowned power plant in Nurisolai, escape scrutiny. This selective activism illustrates how environmental concerns in Sri Lanka have been politicized.
Wind power projects worldwide have not been abandoned because of bird deaths. Instead, governments and companies have introduced strategies to mitigate harm. Norway’s experiments with rotor blade painting, UV lighting, and micrositing of turbines show that innovation can reduce risks. Tamil Nadu, with its forwardlooking approach, is positioned to attract €72 billion in offshore wind investment by 2030. Sri Lanka could have shared in this momentum, but the Mannar opportunity was lost to politicized environmental activism.
The broader truth is that every development project carries an environmental cost. Countries that have successfully implemented wind farms have accepted this reality, balancing ecological concerns with the urgent need for clean energy. Sri Lanka’s activists, however, seem to apply their scrutiny selectively. When Indian projects are proposed, opposition is fierce; when Chinese projects advance, silence prevails.
This inconsistency undermines the credibility of environmental advocacy. If the true goal is sustainability, then all projects—regardless of origin—should be judged by the same standards. Otherwise, Sri Lanka risks allowing political agendas to derail its path to renewable energy.
The Mannar case is a cautionary tale. By blocking Adani’s project, Sri Lanka lost not only foreign investment but also a chance to accelerate its transition to clean energy. The government’s target of 70 percent renewable energy by 2030 and netzero emissions by 2050 will remain a distant dream if antidevelopment narratives dominate.
The question remains: was the opposition to Adani’s project truly about protecting birds, or was it about preventing Indian investment in Mannar? The disappearance of protesters after the project’s cancellation suggests the latter. Meanwhile, the new 50 MW project will inevitably face similar ecological challenges. Will migratory birds be spared this time, or will silence prevail because the developer is local?
The Mannar wind farm controversy is not merely about turbines and birds. It is about Sri Lanka’s future—whether the nation will embrace renewable energy with pragmatism, or remain entangled in politicized debates that stall progress. If selective activism continues to dominate, the aspiration of achieving net zero carbon emissions by 2050 risks becoming symbolic rather than substantive.
The silence following Adani’s withdrawal suggests the protests were less about ecology and more about politics—specifically, blocking Indian investment. Meanwhile, far more environmentally damaging projects, such as the Chineseowned power plant in Nurisolai, escape scrutiny. This selective activism illustrates how environmental concerns in Sri Lanka have been politicized.
Wind power projects worldwide have not been abandoned because of bird deaths. Instead, governments and companies have introduced strategies to mitigate harm. Norway’s experiments with rotor blade painting, UV lighting, and micrositing of turbines show that innovation can reduce risks. Tamil Nadu, with its forwardlooking approach, is positioned to attract €72 billion in offshore wind investment by 2030. Sri Lanka could have shared in this momentum, but the Mannar opportunity was lost to politicized environmental activism.
The broader truth is that every development project carries an environmental cost. Countries that have successfully implemented wind farms have accepted this reality, balancing ecological concerns with the urgent need for clean energy. Sri Lanka’s activists, however, seem to apply their scrutiny selectively. When Indian projects are proposed, opposition is fierce; when Chinese projects advance, silence prevails.
This inconsistency undermines the credibility of environmental advocacy. If the true goal is sustainability, then all projects—regardless of origin—should be judged by the same standards. Otherwise, Sri Lanka risks allowing political agendas to derail its path to renewable energy.
The Mannar case is a cautionary tale. By blocking Adani’s project, Sri Lanka lost not only foreign investment but also a chance to accelerate its transition to clean energy. The government’s target of 70 percent renewable energy by 2030 and netzero emissions by 2050 will remain a distant dream if antidevelopment narratives dominate.
The question remains: was the opposition to Adani’s project truly about protecting birds, or was it about preventing Indian investment in Mannar? The disappearance of protesters after the project’s cancellation suggests the latter. Meanwhile, the new 50 MW project will inevitably face similar ecological challenges. Will migratory birds be spared this time, or will silence prevail because the developer is local?
The Mannar wind farm controversy is not merely about turbines and birds. It is about Sri Lanka’s future—whether the nation will embrace renewable energy with pragmatism, or remain entangled in politicized debates that stall progress. If selective activism continues to dominate, the aspiration of achieving net zero carbon emissions by 2050 risks becoming symbolic rather than substantive.
A. Jathindra is the head of the think tank Trinco Centre for Strategic Studies (TSST) and a Sri Lankan-based independent political analyst.
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