Today, conservation efforts are scattered across various activities, from urban outreach programmes to the installation of solar-powered pumps that draw water into forest lakes.
Credit: DH Illustration
As another World Wildlife Day passes, it is an opportune moment to reflect on the past and assess the current state of wildlife conservation in India. Conservation efforts gained prominence only after the enactment of the Wildlife Protection Act in 1972. From then until the mid-1980s, a handful of influential individuals—those with access to power and decision-making circles—led efforts to frame policies, designate protected areas, and safeguard habitats. Their dedication laid a strong foundation, bringing several species and ecosystems back from the brink of extinction.
In the 1990s and early 2000s, conservation expanded beyond this small circle, drawing in passionate individuals and grassroots organisations driven by their love for wildlife. This era saw numerous battles to protect habitats through government engagement, policy advocacy, and legal challenges. Some conservationists also turned their attention to the growing menace of illegal wildlife trade. While professional wildlife research institutions emerged during this period, many adopted a cautious stance—preferring to focus on scientific inquiry rather than direct intervention in conservation crises. They critiqued policies and lamented habitat loss but distanced themselves from the difficult, hands-on task of saving species in distress.
The mid-2010s marked another shift. With changing economic dynamics and the rise of social media, wildlife conservation became a fashionable pursuit, coinciding with the boom in safari tourism, wildlife photography, and eco-activism. While increased public interest should have been a, it diluted the core mission. Conservation increasingly took on softer approaches—artwork, glamorous wildlife photography, social media posturing, plastic cleanup drives, candlelight vigils, and online petitions—diverting focus from the critical task of protecting habitats and species.
A recent encounter exemplifies this trend. A young man, eager to introduce himself as a vulture conservationist, proudly presented a small vulture-themed sticker, explaining that distributing these would raise awareness and help protect the species. While his intentions were noble, the reality is that India’s vulture population has been decimated primarily by nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs administered to livestock and the depletion of carrion, their primary food source. Without addressing these threats, no amount of stickers will alter the grim fate of these critically endangered birds.
Today, conservation efforts are scattered across various activities, from urban outreach programmes to the installation of solar-powered pumps that draw water into forest lakes. While well-intentioned, some of these measures harm wildlife. For instance, year-round artificial water sources disrupt the natural mortality patterns of species like elephants and tigers, whose populations are regulated by nature’s cycles. Similarly, there has been an explosion of bird and butterfly inventory groups. But if these groups do not actively work to protect habitats, their meticulous species lists will soon become relics of the past.
Habitat destruction and poaching remain the twin evils plaguing India’s wildlife. These, in turn, fuel human-wildlife conflict, exacerbating tensions between local communities and conservation efforts. Meanwhile, new threats loom—such as the large-scale introduction of invasive species or habitat manipulation—yet, few are willing to address these pressing concerns. Many non-governmental organisations prioritise maintaining a neutral stance, but neutrality in the face of destruction is complicity.
Take, for example, the escalating human-elephant conflict in the Western Ghats in Karnataka’s Hassan district. Once a peaceful elephant habitat, the region has been irrevocably altered by mini-hydel power projects and infrastructure expansion, displacing elephants and pushing them into unfamiliar territories such as Puttur and Sulya. A scientific study has unequivocally linked the rise in conflict to these so-called “green energy” projects. Yet, a prominent NGO working in the region chooses to overlook this inconvenient truth, opting instead for softer conservation efforts while sidestepping the root cause—habitat destruction. Ironically, the same organisation once campaigned against capturing problem elephants but now turns a blind eye to their daily capture and electrocution, all while receiving funds under the pretext of protecting them. Is this a case of misplaced priorities or sheer convenience?
India ranks second only to Brazil in forest loss. If we fail to address this existential crisis, all other conservation efforts will amount to little more than spectatorship in the face of destruction. Wildlife conservation is not for the faint-hearted—it is fraught with complexities, opposition, and, at times, controversy. Failures are inevitable, but so too are victories. What matters is the relentless pursuit of the goal: protecting wildlife and their habitats.
Though well-intentioned, the young vulture enthusiast likely lacked proper guidance in prioritising critical conservation actions. Perhaps conservation leaders, directly or indirectly, steered him toward superficial activities—well-meaning but ineffective in bringing real change.
Today, more people instruct others on conservation—often without firsthand experience—than there are individuals willing to fight on the frontlines. The economic beneficiaries of wildlife far outnumber those who battle tirelessly to protect biodiversity. Ecologists churn out research papers but disclaim responsibility for saving wildlife; organisations prioritise diplomacy over action; modern environmentalists are engrossed in soft campaigns with little tangible impact; governments are preoccupied with economic development, and all the while, India’s natural heritage continues to be decimated.
So, who will bell the cat?
We need a society—and a civil society movement—that understands wildlife conservation holistically and is deeply sensitive to the looming ecological disasters. If we fail to act now, we risk following the trajectory of some European nations, where wilderness has been all but lost. Future generations may only encounter near-domesticated species, travelling abroad to witness ecosystems that once thrived within our own borders. As more World Wildlife Days come and go, will we continue to observe the decline of our species from the safety of the grandstands? Or will we take the bold steps necessary to halt this tide of destruction?
Thanks to the dedication of committed individuals working alongside the government, some species and habitats have been saved. However, safeguarding these victories is crucial. But we must also confront our failures and recalibrate our approach before it is too late.
(The writer is a conservationist and author of Leopard Diaries)
Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.