Kerala’s Human-Elephant ‘Conflict’: Time To Understand a Complex Relationship

Asia-Pacific, Biodiversity, Civil Society, Conservation, Environment, Featured, Headlines, Natural Resources, TerraViva United Nations

Conservation

Elephants at the Kappukadu elephant rehabilitation center in Kottoor.

Elephants at the Kappukadu elephant rehabilitation center in Kottoor.

NEW DELHI, Sep 5 2025 (IPS) – In the early part of this year, two deaths in Kerala garnered major media attention. A farmer in Wayanad and a female plantation worker in Idukki were killed in two separate events, within a matter of a few days, by wild elephants.

Arikomban, another wild elephant, has become a media favorite recently due to his brushes with human settlements near his habitat. Named so because of his love for ari (rice), the elephant had been relocated from Kerala to Tamil Nadu in 2023 following constant protests from people who also claimed him to be ‘life-threatening.’ Kerala’s news outlets widely covered Arikomban’s relocation.


These aren’t one-off cases in Kerala, which has seen a spike in human–wildlife conflict, especially involving elephants.

According to a news report, 451 people have been killed in wildlife conflicts in the past five years alone in the state, with 102 of them caused by elephants.

However, wildlife biologists and environmentalists have been at odds with the narratives promoted by the media and society regarding what constitutes conflict.

“I think we shouldn’t be using the terminology ‘wildlife conflict’ itself. I would prefer addressing it as ‘negative wildlife interaction,’” says Dr. P.S. Easa, who holds a PhD on Elephant Ecology and Behavior and is a member of the National Board for Wildlife and the IUCN, Asian Elephant Specialist Group.

The conflict between wild animals and humans has been going on for centuries, and what we witness in the current era has been influenced by the transformation in the behavior of both these groups, as well as humans’ perception towards wildlife in general, he adds.

In Kerala’s social framework, the rising phenomenon of human–elephant conflict takes on a much deeper and more complex meaning than the broader topic of conflict with wildlife. Elephants have been an integral part of Kerala’s culture and tradition for centuries—domesticated not just for heavy labor but also as part of temple festivals. In the last few decades, machines have replaced elephants in much of the labor environment in the state, yet the land giants continue to be a part of the festival parades. Animal behavioral experts and activists have been consistently raising their voices against this practice in this century, citing the need to treat elephants as solely wild animals.

Easa refuses to even use the term “domesticated” for them.

“Captive elephants are the only right way to address them in this age and time,” he says.

In 2024 alone, there had been nine reported deaths in Kerala by such captive elephants. The Hindu reported six such deaths, including an elephant mahout, within the first two months of this year. Although there have been stricter rules and regulations in recent years on using captive elephants for temple festivals, they have mostly been restricted to paper. The religious nature of the festivals that these elephants are made to be a part of makes the topic even more sensitive, and political parties tend to stay away from addressing the issue.

Kerala’s elephant reserves have been categorized mainly into four regions, namely Wayanad, Nilambur, Anamudi, and Periyar. Periyar Reserve had the highest count of elephants, followed by the Anamudi Reserve. According to the Kerala Government’s Forest Statistics and the report of the ‘Wild Elephants Census of Kerala,’ the four reserves have a combined total extent of 11,199.049 sq. km., out of which only 1,576.339 sq. km. is assessed to be devoid of elephant population. According to a 2024 official assessment, Kerala had an elephant population of just under 1800, a decline of more than 100 from the previous year.

As Kerala’s elephant reserves border the neighboring states of Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, natural factors that affect the elephant population, like extreme drought and heavy, abrupt rainfall, influence the elephants’ migration across the states during the year.

In Kerala, particularly, shrinking forest habitats caused by deforestation and the increasing presence of human settlements in regions historically occupied by elephant populations, coupled with climate change and the invasive plant species erasing the elephants’ natural food sources, are some of the factors causing unnatural elephant migration, according to experts, and as a consequence, resulting in frequent interactions with humans.

The phrase “descent of wildlife into human settlements” itself is a misnomer, Eesa says.

“In almost all such cases, human settlements had crossed over to those places where the wildlife had existed peacefully before. Wayanad and Idukki are classic examples of this.”

“There was a report that I had come across a while ago—of an ‘elephant attack’ that happened in Sholayar Forest Reserve. Look at the irony of that news. It’s a forest reserve—the habitat belongs to the elephant, not the people who were driving through it. What I’m saying is, every time an elephant conflict is reported, you need to dissect all the circumstances surrounding it. Where—was it within the jungle or outside it? When was it, during the daytime or at night? And how? What were the circumstances leading up to the interaction?” he explains.

The drastic increase in food waste owing to tourism in Kerala has been another factor for wild animals encroaching into human spaces lately. Elephants, wild boars, and monkeys have been observed to have come to human settlements to feed on the food waste.

There is no one, foolproof method to resolve the human–elephant conflict, scientists opine. Easa points out that several techniques that had been fruitful in African countries proved ineffective when used in countries like Sri Lanka and Indonesia.

A mahout riding a captive elephant. Kerala continues to make use of elephants for temple festivals and parades.

A mahout is seen riding a captive elephant. Kerala continues to make use of elephants for temple festivals and parades.

Wildlife biologist Sreedhar Vijayakrishnan, in an interview given to Mongabay in 2023, suggests five main long-term measures that will help mitigate human-elephant conflict. This includes initiating long-term studies to understand elephant movements and spatiotemporal patterns of conflict, which will help ascertain where and how interventions are required; tracking areas of elephant movement and identifying regions of intense use while installing alert lights at vantage points that can be triggered in case of elephant sightings; raising awareness among local populations to discourage feeding elephants or unwanted interactions; training local rapid response teams to prevent negative interactions and indiscriminate drives; and fitting satellite collars on elephants that frequently cause issues.

Kerala also has an elephant rehabilitation center established in Kottoor, Thiruvananthapuram, for rescuing, rehabilitating, and protecting both captive and wild elephants. The state, like other forest reserves in India, has historically chosen to turn many of the captured conflict-making elephants into ‘Kumkis’ (a Kumki elephant is a specially trained and domesticated elephant used in rescue operations and to train other wild elephants and manage wildlife conflict).

Apart from the above, one of the most effective measures that has been implemented in Kerala is through the Wayanad Elephant Conflict Mitigation Project by the Wildlife Trust of India (WTI). The project, first initiated in 2002–2003 by WTI, has evolved into a successful model for tackling human–elephant conflict in Kerala. The model has focused on relocating human settlements from places identified as ‘elephant corridors’ in the Wayanad district of Kerala. Wayanad, spanning a total of 2,131 sq. km., has an elephant reserve spread over 1,200 sq. km., with an elephant density of 0.25 elephants/sq. km.

Shajan M.A., a Senior Field Officer with WTI who handles the project currently, tells me, “Our method is to buy such sensitive land from the people, including both tribal and other communities, and relocate them to safer regions, away from wildlife conflict.” Ultimately, WTI hands over the purchased land to the Kerala Forest Department.

In regions like the Tirunelli–Kudrakote elephant corridor, the human–elephant conflict had escalated so much that it had resulted in several human deaths. For the communities, leaving a land they had occupied for decades and considered home is never easy, Shajan acknowledges. But of all the tried and tested methods to deal with the human–wildlife conflict, this approach has been the most effective in the long run, he points out.

Shajan also muses on the question of what exactly comprises a ‘conflict.’

“Conflict can hold different meanings. From a monkey stealing food from the house to a tiger or an elephant attack on a human, even leading to deaths, it’s all considered a human–wildlife conflict. Sadly, we, as a society, tend to be reactive once it transforms into a conflict and place the blame wholly on the wildlife.”

IPS UN Bureau Report

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Togo’s Young Generation Challenges Six Decades of Dynastic Rule

Active Citizens, Africa, Civil Society, Crime & Justice, Democracy, Energy, Featured, Headlines, Human Rights, Labour, Press Freedom, TerraViva United Nations

Opinion

Credit: Pascal.Van, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay, Sep 2 2025 (IPS) – In late June, thousands flooded the streets of Lomé, Togo’s capital, presenting the ruling dynasty with its biggest challenge in decades.

The catalyst was constitutional manoeuvring by President Faure Gnassingbé to maintain his grip on power. In March 2024, his government pushed through constitutional amendments that transformed Togo from a presidential to a parliamentary system. This created a new position, the President of the Council of Ministers – effectively Togo’s chief executive – elected by parliament rather than by popular vote, and with no term limits. Gnassingbé assumed this new role in May, making it abundantly clear the changes were only about keeping him in power indefinitely.


This constitutional manoeuvre was the latest episode in a 58-year family saga that began when Faure’s father, Gnassingbé Eyadéma, seized power in a 1967 coup. For 25 years, the elder Gnassingbé ruled over a one-party state, staging ritual elections that reached absurd heights in 1986 when he claimed re-election with close to 100 per cent of votes on an implausible 99 per cent turnout. Even after nominal multiparty democracy arrived in 1992, elections remained charades with predetermined outcomes, as opposition parties faced systematic obstacles that made fair competition impossible.

When Eyadéma died in 2005, the military simply appointed his son Faure as successor, despite the constitution mandating immediate elections. International pressure forced a hastily organised vote, but this followed the familiar script of violence, fraud and repression. The pattern repeated in 2010, 2015 and 2020, with each election offering a veneer of legitimacy for continued authoritarian rule – and eliciting successive waves of protest that were either violently repressed or pre-emptively suppressed.

Now, two decades after Faure took power, this latest constitutional gambit has triggered the most significant challenge to his rule. The constitutional changes designed to keep him in power have instead galvanised opposition, creating a focal point for decades of accumulated grievances.

The current protests differ from their predecessors by being overwhelmingly led by young people who’ve never known any other leaders than the Gnassingbés. Raised on promises of multiparty democracy, they’ve witnessed systematic electoral fraud to perpetuate a government wholly unresponsive to their needs. They connect their daily struggles with unemployment, power outages and crumbling infrastructure with the long-term denial of their democratic freedoms.

The arrest in May of a popular rapper and TikToker, Aamron – for posting a video calling for street protests to coincide with Gnassingbé’s birthday on 6 June – galvanised discontent, turning simmering frustration into organised resistance. Aamron’s detention sparked the formation of the 6 June Movement (M66), led by young artists, bloggers, diaspora-based activists and civil society figures who rely heavily on social media to coordinate protests, bypassing state-controlled channels.

The government’s response, however, has followed a familiar path of authoritarian crackdown. In late June, security forces killed at least seven people, including 15-year-old Jacques Koami Koutoglo, and they’ve also used teargas, beatings and mass arrests against protesters. The regime has detained journalists, forced deletion of protest footage and imposed internet shutdowns during protests. It has suspended international media outlets including France 24 and RFI for their protest coverage. it has even issued international arrest warrants for M66 leaders based abroad, accusing them of terrorism and subversion.

Protests have continued despite repression. The leadership of young people, less intimidated by the security apparatus and better connected through social media, has allowed for the diversification of opposition tactics, with activists shifting between street protests, legal challenges and international advocacy as circumstances dictate. The diaspora is also playing a role, with Togolese communities abroad organising solidarity protests and advocating with international organisations for sanctions against the Gnassingbé regime.

Significant obstacles however remain. Gnassingbé controls all levers of power, including security forces, the electoral commission and the Constitutional Court. For a democratic transition to result, international pressure would need to intensify, including the imposition of targeted sanctions on regime officials and their economic interests. Regional bodies, particularly the Economic Community of West African States, would need to act, including by threatening to suspend Togo until democratic reforms are implemented.

Whether these protests trigger democratic change or become yet another chapter in the history of repressed dissent will ultimately depend on the ability of pro-democracy forces to sustain pressure and whether the international community finally decides to act. Gnassingbé’s constitutional manoeuvre may prove to be his final act, not because it succeeded in keeping him in power, but because it awakened a new generation. Togo’s young people have discovered the power of collective action—and that could prove decisive.

Inés M. Pousadela is CIVICUS Senior Research Specialist, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

For interviews or more information, please contact research@civicus.org

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