By Rithwik Sundar
This June, I attended an event with wildlife conservationists, photographers, and others from the environmental field – mostly fellow Keralites. The chief guest, a senior Forest Department official and a gifted speaker, was addressing the crowd on the current state of conservation in the region. At one point, he recounted turning down a colleague’s suggestion: “Why not organise a conservation awareness march in Wayanad using elephant statues?” The audience burst into laughter.
I was struck by the shared reaction. Years of news reports, protests, and viral social media clips of people driving wildlife away from farms and neighbourhoods, or being attacked by animals have likely shaped a firm public perception. In Kerala’s districts where human-wildlife conflict runs high, especially involving elephants, wild pigs, tigers, and leopards, many now assume that local communities are too embittered to entertain gestures like that march. The very idea seemed so out of touch with present realities that the room dismissed it instantly – as if it were not just unfeasible, but absurd.
Poor land management, rising encroachment, and dense human populations are driving wildlife into closer contact with people, leading to escalating conflict, crop loss, and deepening resentment. Photo: Debarghya Sengupta/Sanctuary Photolibrary.
Before I delve further into the latest development by the Kerala state government in this matter, I want to say that during my visits to these districts highly affected by human-wildlife conflict, I have encountered people who happily accepted wild presence in their neighbourhoods as well as people who wanted them to be culled. So there is no one homogenous sentiment yet, even if it seems so from the outside. However, Kerala recently unveiled a draft law, the Wildlife Protection (Amendment) Bill 2025. At the focus of the draft lies a decisive push to decentralise authority for culling animals that pose a threat to human life or property, a proposal to declare certain species as vermin – namely the wild pig – permitting mass culling without the legal safeguards, and a move to downgrade the bonnet macaque from Schedule I, the highest category of protection, to Schedule II. This polarising step has conservationists concerned and outraged on one side and on the other, groups that have long demanded these actions seeing relief and hope. This polarisation is, unfortunately, also the result of a shifting ethos in the region towards wildlife – one shaped by a series of miscalculations and shortsighted decisions.
According to the country’s Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, the power to permit the killing of animals that pose a threat to human life or property rests with the Chief Wildlife Warden. However, Kerala’s proposal seeks to decentralise this authority by allowing Chief Conservators of Forests at the regional level to make such decisions, enabling quicker and more locally responsive actions. In addition, the draft bill grants the Chief Wildlife Warden the authority to directly order the killing of any wild animal considered a threat. This marks a drastic shift in how wildlife interactions are handled, moving away from rare and carefully considered interventions to a response model that quickly escalates to the use of lethal force.
While wild pigs cause significant crop damage and farmers’ concerns are valid, they also serve as a crucial prey base for leopards and tigers. Reducing their numbers could have far-reaching ecological consequences. The proposal to downgrade the bonnet macaque from Schedule I to Schedule II is also contentious, as they play a vital role as seed dispersers in forest ecosystems. By July 2025, Kerala had already culled 4,734 wild pigs that had entered human settlements, threatening both people and crops, following the authorisation granted to local self-government bodies to conduct such operations. Schedule I protection has so far shielded the bonnet macaque from similar culling efforts.
It cannot be denied that crop damage often leads to mounting debt, and the risk – and rising number – of injuries and fatalities from human-wildlife encounters fuels growing resentment. This frustration is increasingly being channelled into calls for culling and the removal of wild animals from these areas. In Kerala alone, 445 human deaths were reported between 2017-18 and 2020-21 as a result of such conflicts. However, it is equally important to recognise that the Forest Department has failed to curb the diversion of forest land for non-forest activities, stop the encroachment of wildlife habitats, or secure vital wildlife corridors.
For example, in Aralam in Kannur district, landless tribal communities were allotted plots within Aralam Farm, located adjacent to a wildlife sanctuary. Those resettled there are now facing frequent human-wildlife conflict, with elephants causing fatalities. In Palakkad, the 500 acres allotted for the IIT included 18.14 ha. of vested forest land. This has intensified human-wildlife conflict in the neighbouring Walyar forest region. According to official records, Kerala designates 11,524.91 sq. km. – or 29.66 per cent of its total 38,863 sq. km. – as a forest area. Yet, a report by the Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) of India revealed that 21.81 per cent (2,513.53 sq. km.) of this forest land has been diverted for non-forest use, rendering it unfit for supporting wildlife.
Large sections of reserve forest land continue to be claimed by encroachers, forcing wildlife into shrinking habitats. In Wayanad, forest cover fell dramatically from 1,811.35 sq. km. in 1950 to just 863.86 sq. km. in 2021. Unsurprisingly, Wayanad now reports one of the highest numbers of human-wildlife conflict claims in the state. These are just some of the failures of the Forest Department in managing both human-wildlife conflict and wildlife habitats, as highlighted in the most recent audit report by the Comptroller and Auditor General (CAG) of India.
Rising encroachment, high human population density, and poor land management have brought wildlife and human settlements into increasingly close contact, resulting in growing conflict. How we choose to respond to this crisis will shape the future of conservation for generations. Resorting to mass culling only reinforces the notion that wildlife are intruders – when, in truth, it is often we who have entered their habitats. Treating wild animals as expendable will benefit no one in the long run. The concerns of farmers can and must be addressed more effectively through robust compensation schemes, proactive land and crop protection measures, and long-term institutional support – rather than reaching for weapons as a first response.
We need no reminder that this is the same land where the Silent Valley movement once emerged in the 1970s and 1980s – a powerful environmental campaign that reshaped conservation thinking in Kerala.
While today’s context may be different, its underlying message endures in the hearts of many: that nature is worth protecting. We risk losing that legacy if we continue to push for forceful, intolerant solutions. If we truly wish to coexist with wildlife, the path forward must be rooted in long-term vision – not reactionary fear.
Rithwik Sundar is an Assistant Editor at Sanctuary Asia, an avid birdwatcher, and an active contributor to citizen science initiatives. His curiosity extends to forgotten wildlife histories tucked away in archives.
