It was more than a lecture on architecture. It was a challenge to rethink civilisation itself. Standing before a packed audience at Dilmah by Genesis in Maligawatte, internationally acclaimed environmental architect, author and conservationist Sunela Jayewardene delivered a keyn…

It was more than a lecture on architecture. It was a challenge to rethink civilisation itself. Standing before a packed audience at Dilmah by Genesis in Maligawatte, internationally acclaimed environmental architect, author and conservationist Sunela Jayewardene delivered a keynote that transcended blueprints, buildings and urban planning. Instead, she invited her listeners on an intellectual journey into Sri Lanka’s ancient past, arguing that the answers to some of the world’s gravest environmental crises may already exist within the island’s forgotten ecological wisdom. Her address, titled “Beyond Concrete: Architecture for the Coexistence of Species,” was at once philosophical, historical and deeply practical. It questioned humanity’s obsession with dominating nature and called for a return to a design ethic rooted in respect, restraint and coexistence. “The road is actually very simple,” Jayewardene said. “We have simply forgotten it.” That observation became the defining thread of an afternoon that challenged conventional thinking about architecture and development. According to Jayewardene, modern society has inherited a worldview shaped largely by colonial values that placed human needs above those of every other living organism. “Our value system was turned on its head,” she observed. “We accepted a Western way of looking at nature without questioning it. Today we can clearly see the consequences. The world is in crisis. Species are in crisis. Our lifestyles are in crisis.” She was careful not to romanticise the past, nor was she dismissive of modern science. Instead, she argued that Sri Lanka’s pre-colonial civilisation possessed a sophisticated environmental philosophy that modern planners and architects have largely ignored. For Jayewardene, environmental architecture is not about fashionable sustainability slogans or cosmetic landscaping. It begins with humility. It begins by recognising that humans are only one species among millions sharing the same landscape. “The built environment should not exist in opposition to nature,” she said. “It should become part of nature.” One of the most captivating moments of her presentation came when she introduced her own research into the island’s ancient sacred geography. Using digital mapping and satellite imagery, Jayewardene demonstrated the remarkable alignment of Sri Lanka’s four original Saman Devalayas, whose axes converge on Sri Pada, historically known as Samanthakuta. The extraordinary precision of these alignments, she argued, raises profound questions about the scientific and surveying capabilities of ancient Sri Lankan civilisation. “What kind of technology enabled them to achieve this?” she asked the audience. Her purpose was not to offer speculative answers but to challenge deeply ingrained assumptions that ancient societies lacked scientific sophistication. “We often underestimate what our ancestors knew,” she said. “Yet the evidence around us tells a very different story.” That forgotten knowledge, she argued, extended well beyond engineering. It shaped an entire philosophy of living with the landscape rather than imposing human will upon it. Displaying photographs from archaeological sites including Ritigala, ancient monasteries and rock pavilions hidden within Sri Lanka’s forests, Jayewardene illustrated how builders carved steps around natural boulders, integrated structures into existing rock formations and preserved the contours of the land. Modern construction, she suggested, would almost certainly have bulldozed those landscapes into submission. “Our ancestors honoured the land,” she said. “They accepted the landscape instead of trying to conquer it.” For Jayewardene, that principle remains the foundation of every project she undertakes. She described environmental architecture as an exercise in listening rather than commanding. Every site, she explained, possesses its own identity, ecological history and natural rhythm. The responsibility of the architect is to understand that identity before attempting to intervene. “The land tells you what it wants to become,” she said. Throughout the presentation, one word repeatedly surfaced—context. Without understanding context, she argued, architecture becomes little more than sculpture. Good design cannot be copied indiscriminately from one country to another or even from one district to another. Climate differs. Rainfall differs. Vegetation differs. Wildlife differs. Culture differs. Even the stories associated with landscapes differ. All of these, Jayewardene insisted, must shape architecture. “When I speak about inhabitants, I don’t mean only human beings,” she explained. “The birds, insects, reptiles, mammals, trees and every living organism already occupying that land must become part of the design equation.” This broader understanding forms the basis of what she describes as non-human-centred design—an approach that rejects the notion that cities exist exclusively for people. Instead, landscapes should provide refuge for biodiversity while simultaneously serving human communities. It is an idea that resonates strongly at a time when rapid urbanisation continues to erode habitats across Sri Lanka. Jayewardene also challenged prevailing attitudes towards development itself. Too often, she argued, “development” has become synonymous with replacing natural systems by concrete infrastructure. She questioned whether flattening hillsides, redirecting streams and clearing vegetation can genuinely be described as progress. In her view, genuine development should first ask what ecological value already exists before deciding what should be built. One of the simplest yet most profound examples she offered concerned water. “I always say it is acceptable to interrupt water,” she remarked. “But never disrupt it.” That distinction reflects an ecological understanding often absent from conventional engineering. Natural drainage systems, she warned, perform countless functions that remain invisible until they are damaged. Floods, soil erosion, biodiversity decline and even changes in local climate frequently follow. “We disrupt far more than water,” she said. “We disrupt entire ecological relationships.” Equally significant was her distinction between degraded brownfield sites and relatively untouched greenfield landscapes. Brownfield sites require ecological restoration, rehabilitation and renewal. Greenfield sites demand restraint. Minimal intervention, she argued, is often the highest form of environmental design. The keynote found an appropriate setting within Dilmah Conservation’s own efforts to restore degraded urban landscapes. Earlier in the programme, Rishan Sampath of Dilmah Conservation outlined the organisation’s transformation of an abandoned industrial property in Moratuwa into a flourishing urban forest containing over 300 tree species and more than 1,000 individual plants. Scientific studies conducted within the restored forest have already demonstrated improvements in air quality compared with adjoining urban roads, providing measurable evidence that biodiversity restoration can improve city life. For Jayewardene, such initiatives represent far more than beautification projects. They demonstrate that ecological restoration can become a guiding philosophy for future urban planning. Her address ultimately became a call to rethink humanity’s place within nature. Architecture, she argued, should no longer celebrate domination over landscapes. It should celebrate coexistence. Every building should strengthen biodiversity. Every development should restore ecological balance. Every designer should ask not merely how a project serves people, but how it serves life itself. As the audience left the hall, they carried with them more than architectural ideas. They carried a challenge To question inherited assumptions. To rediscover indigenous ecological wisdom. And to recognise that Sri Lanka’s greatest contribution to global sustainability may not lie in importing new environmental models, but in rediscovering the timeless principles embedded within its own civilisation. For Sunela Jayewardene, the future will not be secured by building more impressive skylines. It will be secured when humanity learns once again to build gently, intelligently and respectfully—allowing architecture to become not an act of conquest, but an expression of coexistence.

By Ifham Nizam