NT NETWORK
At the Miramar Dialogues session ‘People Protecting Nature : Learning from other parts of India’ as part of the Goa Arts and Literature Festival, the launch of a biodiversity map for schools set the tone for a larger, urgent conversation. The illustrated map, featuring 48 common species and cultural motifs such as animal dances and village nature worship has been created to help children recognise the life around them.
Moderated by Aditya Kakodkar, the discussion brought together writer Stephen Alter and researcher Manish Chandi to explore what community-led conservation really means and why it matters. Both speakers resisted the idea that communities should merely be included in projects designed elsewhere. The distinction, they argued, lies in leadership. Conservation works best when it grows from within.
Alter described local people as “naturalists” in their own right, holding generations of knowledge about land and species. Too often, he suggested, outside experts extract that knowledge and leave. “A more honest approach is to treat communities as equal custodians,” he said.
Chandi echoed this, drawing on his years in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. He recounted how islanders regulated their own hunting seasons and protected nesting turtles through traditional calendars long before formal conservation policies arrived. “There was nothing to teach them,” he said. “We were the ones learning.”
If the islands offered lessons in self regulation, Goa offers both hope and warning. Despite its small size and mounting pressure from tourism and real estate, both speakers see opportunity here. Awareness, Chandi observed, cuts across class and religion. Residents are increasingly questioning large scale developments and demanding cleaner air, water and open spaces. That civic confidence, he suggested, is fertile ground for grassroots conservation.
Alter pointed to Goa’s distinctive history. Unlike much of British India, he noted, Goa’s forests were not absorbed into a centralised colonial system. Village institutions retained greater autonomy. Citing the late ecologist Madhav Gadgil, he highlighted the state’s sacred groves as evidence of a long standing conservation ethos embedded in culture rather than law. “These groves, protected by belief and custom, remain living examples of community stewardship,” he said. Yet both speakers warned that even such spaces can be undermined when either organised religion or official departments take over and exclude local voices.
The discussion turned practical when it came to livelihoods. For conservation to last, communities must benefit. Here, Alter proposed a distinctly Goan model of ecotourism. “No jeep safaris, no noisy convoys. Instead, walking trails, birding, herping in the monsoon and homestays run by local families,” he suggested. On foot, he argued, visitors connect more deeply with the forest and income stays within the village.
“Our distinct biodiversity lives in our own backyards, wetlands and village commons where crocodiles, scorpions and tarantulas co-exist with people who have quietly learned to share space,” Chandi said. He added that biodiversity is not confined to only reserves. Both speakers supported the spirit of the Forest Rights Act as a means of correcting historical injustices and restoring agency to forest dwellers. The goal, they stressed, is not commodification but dignity and choice.
Their final takeaway was modest but pointed. Do not impose. Listen first. Ask what communities want to protect and why. Conservation, they suggested, is less about managing nature and more about respecting relationships that already exist.
