Oily Palms and Empty Pockets: Who Really Won From Sri Lanka’s Palm Oil Ban?

COLOMBO – When the government banned palm oil cultivation in 2021, the move was trumpeted as eco-heroism. Fast forward to today, and the gossip in Colombo’s cafés and estate verandas is split: did we save the planet, or just burn a hole in our pockets?

The Planters’ Association of Ceylon (PA) insists the ban was economic suicide — draining US$ 35 million a year in imports, slashing jobs, and raising the price of bread and biscuits. Palm oil, they argue, was the most profitable crop in the country, with workers earning nearly double the wages of tea and rubber hands.

But hold on — the green lobby isn’t buying this sob story. Environmentalists and health campaigners whisper a different line:

Palm oil is dirty business. Globally, palm plantations are linked with deforestation, destroyed habitats, and vanishing biodiversity. “Look at Indonesia, look at Malaysia — orangutans, forests, water tables ruined,” says one Colombo-based ecologist. “Do we want that here?”

It’s not good for your body either. Nutritionists point out that palm oil is high in saturated fats, linked to heart disease and obesity. One dietician quipped: “Palm oil makes profits fat, but also people.”

Water and soil damage. Local environmental researchers warned early on that palm cultivation in Sri Lanka was leaching rivers, altering groundwater levels, and squeezing out traditional crops.

Supporters of the ban claim Sri Lanka acted before things got out of hand — unlike Southeast Asia, where millions of hectares of rainforest were lost. “We stopped the monster before it grew,” says a conservationist.

Of course, plantation bosses scoff, pointing out that most local palms were planted on old rubber estates, not virgin forest. But that hasn’t silenced critics who argue palm oil was never a sustainable long-term solution.

So here’s where the gossip divides:

Pro-palm crowd: crying over Rs. 23 billion in lost investments, torched seedlings, and higher margarine prices.

Anti-palm crowd: smugly pointing to fewer chemicals, healthier diets, and a greener global image.

And in true Sri Lankan fashion, the loudest whispers aren’t about economics or the environment — but about politics. Who pushed the ban? Who profited from the switch? And whose oily palms are still being greased behind closed doors?

“Palm oil may be banned,” one wag at a Pettah tea stall remarked, “but oily politics? That’s never going away.”