Opinion Why Kerala government is wrong in declaring human-animal conflict an ’emergency’

But what do we understand by human-animal conflict? Even though it may seem to convey a sense of continual antagonism, the phrase “human-animal conflict” in the context of human fatalities entails specific incidents limited to highly localised areas. When we say human-animal conflict is rising in Wayanad in Kerala, for example, we are referring to a specific series of encounters that happen at the microlocal levels.

Committees such as these, bureaucracy aside, do not account for the quotidian realities of the lives of humans at these microlocal levels. The terrain of that particular area, the proximity to forest areas, and the availability of water or prey animals for predator species in those forest areas are all highly variable factors. Only attention to the microlocal will reveal how asymmetries of vulnerability apply: For instance, the poor farmer is much more vulnerable than middle-class city dwellers. In Wayanad and other places where such an incident has occurred, many local people are scared to go out at night, and many have indeed stopped farming altogether. Moreover, while it is easy enough for a distant spectator to blame animals for all these conflicts, a dynamic matrix of ecotourism, unabated construction, and quarrying are actually transforming forested landscapes into enclosed and secure spaces affordable only to the rich, leaving the unenclosed vulnerable to encounters with wild animals.

This brings me to my second concern, which is how this declaration implicitly frames living, breathing animals in the same category as any other geological phenomena. Microlocal assessments of human-animal conflict often reveal the reasons that precipitated the fatal encounter in the first place. Tigers caged in Wayanad have almost always been wounded or have several teeth missing. In the recent case of an elephant attack, locals told me that the victim and a few others had been throwing stones at the elephant. This is not to say that these humans are not victims, but that animal behaviour has to be contextualised to understand what caused the specific interaction, and why. Social unrest and protests from the public, backed by political parties, demand a “permanent solution”, which increasingly has come to mean caging, relocating, or shooting. So far, in many of these cases, the chief wildlife warden and the district forest officer (DFO) cited the standard operating procedures such as for stray tigers who come into human-dominated landscapes, as instructed by the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA), which is not to shoot the animal.

However, committees such as these, which are heavily composed of public leaders, will make decisions that will reflect the anthropocentric will of the people. We know this from how the Oommen V Oommen report diluted the original Gadgil report that sought to preserve the Western Ghats. In Kerala, as Lok Sabha elections are approaching, human-animal conflict is fast becoming a political issue. Every wild animal is potentially a problem animal, and according to this logic of containment, human safety can only be ensured by animal death. If so, who will speak for the animal? Will we engage in wildlife conservation only when it is convenient for us?

The only nod in this direction is one of the last points in this declaration, which is to ensure that water is readily available within the forest in areas prone to wildlife conflict. While this clarification recognises that wildlife often moves into human-dominated landscapes in search of food and water, it is not at all clear how these artificial water bodies will be created. An Asian elephant drinks up to 200 litres of water daily. Our forests are still reeling from the colonial projects that created timber plantations and the growth of invasive species such as “manja konna” (senna spectabilis), which are unsuitable for any wildlife. Since eco-restoration projects to undo that damage are ongoing enterprises, any creation of water bodies should take into consideration not only the frequency of conflict but also the ecosystem’s health.

The crux of this declaration is to provide immediate relief and to solve a particular crisis quickly. In that regard, fast disbursement of compensation funds is not only a humane measure but also crucial to maintaining tolerance towards animals in local communities. The establishment of special vigilance committees at forest divisions, strengthening rapid response teams (RRTs), and most importantly, posting forest watchers to increase vigilance are all welcome measures. Proactive measures at the microlocal levels like these will go a long way in mitigating human-animal conflict, but these must not be swapped for populist decisions to cull or kill an animal. Often, environmentalists are accused of not understanding human suffering or of speaking from their ivory towers, but what we seek are ways for multispecies justice, or coexistence with limited resources in conditions of precarity.

The writer is a research affiliate with the Hume Centre for Ecology and Wildlife Biology in Kalpetta, Kerala