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Preeti Giri Goswami
Advocate, High Court, Uttarakhand Social Activist, Para Sports Player. Awards - FICCI FLO Award, DAKSH DIVYANG Award, TILU RAUTELI Award
The recent decision of the Uttarakhand forest department to authorise the killing of 13 leopards and three bears has shaken every citizen who believes wildlife is not an obstacle to development but an inseparable part of our nation’s natural heritage. Officials justify the order on grounds of public safety after repeated attempts to tranquilise and capture these animals allegedly failed. Yet the larger truth remains unanswered: we are not confronting a problem of “dangerous animals.” We are confronting a crisis of collapsing forests that is turning wildlife into scapegoats.
Leopards and bears are not invading human spaces. Human expansion has invaded theirs and the forest is pushing back in distress. Is the leopard the criminal, or is humanity guilty of systematically dismantling the very ecosystems that once kept it away from our villages?
Every time a leopard enters a village or a bear wanders into farmland, the immediate reaction is to declare the animal dangerous. Almost no attention is paid to the decades of ecological destruction that forced these animals to abandon their forests. Wildlife does not voluntarily choose human settlements. It is driven there by hunger, fear, habitat loss and the collapse of the ecosystems that once sustained it.
In many parts of India, including the Himalayan foothills, leopards have been reduced to scavenging human garbage. Videos from places like Mount Abu show leopards rummaging through piles of trash. In urban and peri-urban landscapes near protected areas, studies have found that domestic dogs—drawn to open dumps—can form nearly 40 per cent of a leopard’s diet, with overall domestic animals making up the overwhelming majority of prey. Garbage dumps attract rats, pigs, stray dogs and cattle; the predators follow. What was once a silent hunter of barking deer, goral and wild boar is now forced to survive on the refuse of the very species that destroyed its home. Where is the dignified life of a leopard when its natural prey has vanished and its only remaining option is the rotting waste of human settlements?
The same question hangs over every animal pushed to the edge. Elephants have been filmed charging bulldozers that tear into their corridors. Across India, wildlife repeatedly confronts the machines of ‘progress’—road rollers, excavators, blasting equipment—only to be driven deeper into fragmented patches or onto the roads where vehicles kill them. Animals cannot negotiate land acquisition or environmental clearances. They cannot file petitions. When a leopard or bear steps into a village, it is not aggression; it is the last desperate attempt to survive after every option has been stripped away. Their dignity lies not in submission to our expansion but in the right to a complete, functioning habitat. We have denied them that right.
The forests of Uttarakhand are under unprecedented pressure. Every summer, devastating forest fires consume thousands of hectares of oak, pine and mixed woodland. Beyond the visible loss of trees lies a greater tragedy: the destruction of nests, burrows, insects, reptiles, birds, medicinal plants and countless young animals unable to escape the flames. Entire food chains collapse in days. Climate change intensifies the crisis—rising temperatures, prolonged dry spells, irregular rainfall and shrinking water sources force animals toward villages in search of water and food. Human-induced fires, often set to clear undergrowth or encourage fresh grass, further strip the forest of the cover herbivores and smaller animals need. Once undergrowth disappears, biodiversity declines, soil moisture falls, erosion rises and regeneration fails.
Predators such as leopards depend on healthy populations of natural prey. When habitat fragmentation, fires and human disturbance reduce that prey, predators inevitably turn toward livestock and settlements. The decline of smaller carnivores and scavengers further unravels ecological balance. Nature does not fail because of one animal; it fails when the entire web of life is broken.
Development in the fragile Himalayan ecosystem has repeatedly ignored ecological limits. Roads are widened deep into forests, mountains blasted for infrastructure, tourism pushed into previously undisturbed habitats and construction severing wildlife corridors. Every new road cuts through an animal’s home. Every tunnel and construction site introduces noise, pollution and permanent human presence. In weakly enforced landscapes, these intrusions also enable illegal extraction and wildlife crime. Ecologically sensitive forest interiors must be treated as living systems requiring strict protection, not open-access spaces.
India’s Constitution itself recognises environmental protection as a national duty. Article 48A directs the State to protect and improve the environment and to safeguard forests and wildlife. Article 51A(g) makes it the fundamental duty of every citizen to protect and improve the natural environment and to have compassion for living creatures. The Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, was enacted primarily to conserve wildlife and habitats. It provides for protected areas, regulates hunting, protects endangered species and seeks to preserve ecological balance. Although the Act permits the Chief Wildlife Warden to authorise the destruction of an animal under exceptional circumstances when it becomes dangerous to human life, such powers are intended as an absolute last resort. The spirit of the law is protection first, elimination only when every other measure has failed.
In practice, we are reversing this principle, treating culling as a solution rather than a confession of conservation failure. Before a death warrant is signed for a wild animal, every possible effort must address the root causes of conflict: scientific monitoring, rapid response teams, habitat restoration, early-warning systems, fair and timely compensation for affected families, predator-proof livestock enclosures, community awareness, restoration of natural prey populations, functional wildlife corridors and rigorous control of forest fires. Long-term coexistence requires investment in prevention, not repeated reliance on lethal solutions.
The loss of human life is undeniably tragic. Families living near forests deserve safety, compensation and effective protection. But true justice cannot be achieved by eliminating wildlife while leaving the causes of conflict untouched. If forests continue to fragment and degrade, no number of culling orders will bring lasting peace. The next animal will simply replace the last and the cycle of fear and retaliation will continue indefinitely.
We are not witnessing isolated incidents of conflict. We are witnessing the slow collapse of coexistence itself. The answer does not lie in emptying the forests of wildlife, but in restoring the forests so that wildlife no longer needs to leave them. Large undisturbed habitats must be preserved. Wildlife corridors connecting protected areas must be restored. Forest fires must be prevented through community participation, stricter enforcement and scientific management. Native forests—not mere tree plantations—must be regenerated. Infrastructure projects in the fragile Himalayas must undergo rigorous ecological assessment so that development never comes at the irreversible cost of biodiversity.
A nation is not judged by how quickly it expands into nature, but by how wisely it restrains itself to protect what cannot be replaced. If every time an animal suffers because its habitat has been destroyed, our response is to kill the animal, then we are not managing conflict—we are erasing wildlife to avoid responsibility. The forests of Uttarakhand did not begin as human landscapes. They were once complete, self-sustaining worlds where every species had its place. Human presence is recent; ecological balance is ancient. To forget this is to misunderstand our own place in nature. We are not the owners of these forests; we are their most powerful guests, and the most dangerous when we forget that fact.
Saving Uttarakhand’s forests is, therefore, not simply an environmental obligation. It is a constitutional responsibility, a legal commitment and above all a moral reckoning. If we fail to protect the home of the wild today, tomorrow there will be no wilderness left to defend—and no excuse left to offer.
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