Elephant in the room

The recent sentencing of Niraj Roshan, widely known as Ali Roshan, to 15 years in prison and a fine exceeding Rs. 20 million marks the first time a high-profile wildlife smuggler has been held accountable in our courts. Roshan was convicted of unlawfully keeping five elephants without valid permits. 

This verdict deserves to be welcomed. For decades, Sri Lanka has watched helplessly as its majestic elephants were ripped from the wild, trafficked under fraudulent documentation, and paraded as trophies of wealth and influence. 

Yet, in celebrating this victory, we must not ignore the metaphorical elephant in the room. Ali Roshan, despite his notoriety, could not have operated such a vast smuggling empire alone. His activities thrived because of the politicians, Government officials, business magnates, members of the clergy, and even elements within the judiciary who aided, abetted, and benefitted from his crimes. Unless these powerful enablers are also brought before the law, the justice delivered recently will remain incomplete. Partial justice that risks becoming little more than symbolic.

Among the politicians allegedly entangled in this sordid affair was none other than Gotabaya Rajapaksa. During his tenure as president, the case against Roshan was shamelessly dragged on. Even worse, elephants that had been seized and placed in judicial custody were handed back to their so-called “owners,” an act that amounted to a betrayal of both justice and the voiceless animals whose lives were at stake. At that time, the judiciary seemed paralysed, unwilling to stand up to the Rajapaksa regime. The courage and activism we see from today’s courts were absent then, leaving traffickers free to thrive under the cover of political patronage.

The belated conviction of Roshan is therefore both a triumph and a reminder of how much was lost during those years of cowardice and complicity. How many elephants were torn from their herds? How many were forced into servitude, chained in backyards or temples, while their natural bonds and habitats were destroyed? How many officials lined their pockets? These are questions that demand answers, not merely from Roshan, but from the entire network that sustained him.

If Sri Lanka is serious about turning a corner in the protection of its wildlife, this judgment must be the beginning, not the end. The Attorney General, the Wildlife Department, and the judiciary must act with equal vigour in pursuing those who provided Roshan with cover and legitimacy. Every politician who interfered, every official who falsified permits, every business leader who profited, and every monk who blessed this cruelty and even kept these illegal elephants in their temples must face the same uncompromising standard of justice. Anything less would reduce Roshan’s punishment to a token gesture, harsh enough to shock, but hollow in its effect.

Elephants are more than animals to Sri Lankans. They are living testaments of our rich biodiversity and cultural heritage, symbols of wisdom and strength, and integral to our ecosystems. The subspecies of Asian elephant is endemic to the island and if they were to go extinct that genetic resource will be lost forever. To traffic such an animal is to desecrate not only our biodiversity but also our identity as a nation.

Ali Roshan’s conviction must therefore serve as a warning to all who believe they can hide behind political power, social influence, or religious standing to exploit the voiceless. Sri Lanka has begun to show that justice can reach even those who once seemed untouchable. But until the entire network of abettors is exposed and punished, justice remains unfinished.