Sri Lanka and India have long enjoyed close and multifaceted ties—cultural, religious, and economic. Centuries of people-to-people contact, shared traditions, and mutual influence have defined this unique relationship. Even when diplomatic relations have gone through periods of strain, the underlying bonds have remained strong.

When Sri Lanka was hit by its worst economic crisis in 2022, India extended an extraordinary hand of friendship. Through a series of credit lines, fuel and food assistance, and currency support, New Delhi helped its southern neighbour stay afloat at a moment of near-total economic collapse. This act of solidarity was consistent with India’s “Neighbourhood First” policy and reaffirmed the sense of fraternity that has historically underpinned Indo-Lanka relations.

Yet, despite this deep reservoir of goodwill, one recurring issue threatens to undermine this friendship: the continued illegal fishing by Indian trawlers in Sri Lankan waters, particularly in the northern seas. For decades, successive governments in both Colombo and New Delhi have avoided confronting the problem with the urgency it deserves. What began as a local livelihood dispute has now evolved into a serious diplomatic and environmental crisis that tests the real strength of Indo-Lanka ties.

The problem is not new. It dates back to the late 1970s and early 1980s, when bottom trawling—an industrial fishing method that drags heavy nets across the sea floor—was introduced in Tamil Nadu. The practice, while efficient for large catches, is extremely destructive. It damages marine habitats, disrupts breeding grounds, and depletes fish stocks.

Following the end of Sri Lanka’s civil conflict in 2009, northern Sri Lankan fishermen began returning to their traditional fishing grounds after decades of restricted access. What they found, however, was that Indian trawlers from Tamil Nadu had moved in during the war years and had made a habit of crossing the International Maritime Boundary Line (IMBL) to fish illegally in Sri Lankan waters.

Today, hundreds of Indian trawlers regularly breach this boundary—often at night—and engage in bottom trawling in Sri Lanka’s rich fishing grounds, particularly off the Jaffna, Mullaitivu, and Mannar coasts. For Sri Lankan fishermen who use small-scale, traditional methods, the difference is devastating: the trawlers’ massive nets scoop up everything in their path, leaving little for local communities who depend on daily catches for survival.

The environmental cost of bottom trawling is immense. Scientists and marine experts have repeatedly warned that the method strips the seabed of vegetation, kills coral, and destroys the breeding habitats of shrimp and other commercially valuable species. Once the seabed is disturbed, it takes years—if not decades—for ecosystems to recover.

Sri Lanka’s northern fishermen, who were among the hardest hit during the civil war, now face a different kind of existential threat. They have complained that Indian trawlers enter their waters as close as two to three nautical miles from the coast, sometimes even colliding with smaller boats. The result is a loss of livelihood and a deep sense of injustice among local communities who feel that their rights are being trampled upon with impunity.

Economically, the impact is no less severe. Sri Lanka’s fisheries sector provides livelihoods to over half a million people directly and indirectly. The destruction of marine resources through illegal trawling undermines not only coastal livelihoods but also national food security and export potential. The irony is stark: a country already struggling with debt and unemployment is forced to watch its natural resources plundered in plain sight.

Both India and Sri Lanka are aware of the seriousness of the issue. Over the years, numerous bilateral talks, joint working groups, and high-level committees have been established to find a solution. Agreements such as the 1974 and 1976 maritime boundary treaties clearly demarcate the waters belonging to each country, leaving no ambiguity about sovereignty. Yet, the problem persists.

One reason is political sensitivity. In Tamil Nadu, the issue of fishermen’s livelihoods carries enormous political weight. The state’s politicians routinely pressure New Delhi to secure the release of arrested Indian fishermen, often portraying them as victims rather than violators. Sri Lanka, mindful of its own delicate post-war ethnic balance and its desire to avoid antagonising India, has often chosen restraint over confrontation.

The result has been a pattern of repetitive behaviour: Indian fishermen are caught, detained briefly, and released after diplomatic negotiations—only to return to the same practices. Neither country has yet found the political courage to enforce a sustainable and enforceable long-term solution.

To its credit, Sri Lanka has occasionally taken firm action. The Navy regularly arrests Indian fishermen caught within its maritime boundary, and courts have imposed fines or confiscated trawlers. However, such measures have rarely been consistent or deterrent enough. Political pressure, both domestic and external, often leads to amnesties or quiet releases.

Moreover, Sri Lanka’s own fishing regulations and enforcement capacity remain weak. Surveillance along the northern coastline is limited, and the lack of modern monitoring systems makes it difficult to track and document repeated incursions. For the affected fishermen, justice often seems remote, and government responses appear symbolic rather than systemic.

For India, the challenge lies in balancing humanitarian, political, and environmental concerns. The Tamil Nadu government argues that Indian fishermen cross into Sri Lankan waters out of necessity, driven by declining catches and lack of alternative livelihoods. Efforts have been made to encourage deep-sea fishing through subsidies and alternative employment schemes, but progress has been slow.

At the same time, the central government in New Delhi cannot ignore international law or the risk of damaging its relations with Colombo. Yet, enforcement of the maritime boundary has been left largely to local authorities, with limited coordination or accountability.

What is missing is a coherent national strategy—one that combines strict enforcement with long-term livelihood transition for the affected fishing communities.

Several solutions have been proposed over the years. Joint patrolling of the maritime boundary, real-time vessel monitoring systems, and the creation of a “no-trawl zone” are among them. There have also been discussions about allowing limited, regulated access for Indian fishermen under license—though this has met with strong opposition from Sri Lankan fisher associations, who argue that their resources are already overstretched.

Ultimately, the solution lies not in temporary fixes or prisoner exchanges but in a structural transformation of the fishing economy in Tamil Nadu. India must incentivise its fishermen to move away from bottom trawling and toward sustainable deep-sea fishing methods. Without this shift, the pressure on Sri Lankan waters will only continue.

For its part, Sri Lanka must strengthen maritime enforcement, invest in surveillance and technology, and work with its northern fishing communities to build capacity for sustainable fishing practices. Diplomatic engagement must be coupled with firm and fair enforcement of maritime laws.

The Indo-Lanka relationship is too valuable to be jeopardised by an avoidable problem like illegal fishing. The issue of Indian trawlers encroaching into Sri Lankan waters is not merely about boundaries—it is about livelihoods, ecology, and mutual respect.

If both nations fail to act decisively, they risk allowing this festering issue to erode decades of goodwill and cooperation. India’s assistance during Sri Lanka’s darkest economic hour was an act of true friendship. It is time to extend that same spirit of understanding to the seas that both nations share. Protecting the marine ecosystem and the livelihoods of thousands of fishermen is not just a bilateral responsibility—it is a moral imperative.