The Easy Way Out

WHAT happens when protected animals invade farmlands and destroy crops? In Maharasthra, affected farmers can now just pick up a gun and shoot them. For many years now, the one million-strong farming community in the state has helplessly watched their crops being damaged by such animals as the nilgai, wild boar, blackbuck and wolves. Last week, the state government decided enough was enough: the irate farmers will now be issued permits to kill nilgai and wild boar.

It's a controversial licence to kill. State forest minister Swarup Singh Naik's fiat that it is legit to kill the animals has taken environmentalists by surprise. They feel it'll encourage hunting of protected wildlife.

Both nilgai (the largest Asian antelope) and wild boar (the omnivorous animal is highly prolific and breeds in all seasons) fall under Schedule III of the Wildlife Protection Act, 1972. The Act arranges protected flora and fauna under six schedules, depending on how endangered and rare they are. Wildlife that falls under Schedule I is the most endangered; that under Schedule VI the least. Section 11 of the Act specifies the strict conditions under which protected wildlife may be hunted or culled. For Schedule III animals like nilgai and wild boar, the law states that the chief wildlife warden or any other authorised person can issue written orders for their hunting if they pose a danger to life or property.

To be sure, farmers in the Vidarbha region and in western Maharashtra have seen their crops being ravaged by the burgeoning populations of nilgai and wild boar. "We all agree farmers are suffering," admits Debi Goenka of the Bombay Environment Action Group. "We don't want to lose support of the conservation effort in our villages."

Clearly, what miffs wildlife conservationists is that the government has taken the easiest way out to tackle the problem. "What is the next species?" asks Bittu Sahgal, editor, Sanctuary magazine. "Monkeys who eat groundnut? Blackbuck that graze in fields? Where does this end?" Culling, argue incensed environmentalists, is a last-resort measure to be carried out by trained and authorised personnel. Not a free-for-all by a "ragtag lynchmob of farmers".

As the law's sufficiently grey on the issue, the government says it's acting well within its rights. "Where is the question of a government decision, or of taking permission of any sort?" challenges Nandlal, principal secretary of the revenue and forest department (forests). "This is the law, isn't it?" Perhaps so, but its wanton implementation won't be unchallenged for long.

For one, entrusting farmers with the delicate responsibility of culling goes against the systematic, controlled way in which it is conducted all over the world. "This is giving a carte blanche to one million farmers—it's crazy!" exclaims Sahgal. The arrangement is blatantly open to abuse—from poachers and sport-hunters more than happy to help farmers out. Plus, tampering with the fragile predator-prey balance is fraught with risk. Wiping out grazing animals like nilgai will only intensify the man-animal conflict as starved predators will turn to domestic livestock. Indeed, the very existence of predators like the leopard is endangered in the absence of prey animals.

The state wildlife advisory board had thrown up several alternative solutions, if only its advice was heeded. The board points out that the forest minister's decision is an anomaly, following a high-powered meeting of forest officials and experts in Coimbatore on January 30, where a crop insurance scheme for farms falling within five km of national parks was discussed. At present, livestock loss because of predators is compensated—at a maximum of Rs 3,000 for cows, bullock and buffaloes; and a maximum of Rs 1,000 for goats and sheep. Why not similar schemes for crop damage? Crop protection methods—building fences and trenches, planting crops not popular with grazers—need to be explored. According to the board, the minister reneged on a promise for a Bombay Natural History Society study to find out why nilgai and wild boar population has risen. It could point to a larger malaise: a decline in predators or loss of natural habitat. Turning the farmer into a vigilante might be a great political move, but it could ring a death-knell for the wild boar and the nilgai—and set a dangerous precedent for other states to follow.