Transcending Boundaries by Ananya Singh

Over the last 20 years, the geographic spread of ATREEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work has expanded from the Western Ghats and Eastern Himalayas, to almost the entire country, and from forests, to grasslands, wetlands, and peri-urban landscapes. Alongside, the focus of our work has expanded from studying biodiversity to analyzing the biophysical and socioeconomic drivers of ecosystem change, and their implications for conservation and sustainable development. Yet the core of what we do has remained the questioning and interrogating of prevailing paradigms, and the production of rigorous interdisciplinary knowledge that can inform civil society and policy makers. The present volume is an effort to share this 20-year history of ATREE.

Transcending boundaries

Celebrating 20 years of Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment

Transcending boundaries Reflecting on twenty years of action and research at ATREE

ATREE Head Office Royal Enclave, Srirampura, Jakkur Post, Bengaluru 560064 Karnataka, India T 91 80 23635555 | F 91 80 23530070 www.atree.org

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ATREEBangalore

Edited by

Ankila J. Hiremath Nitin D. Rai Ananda Siddhartha

Transcending boundaries Reflecting on twenty years of action and research at ATREE

Edited by Ankila J. Hiremath Nitin D. Rai Ananda Siddhartha

First published in 2017 by Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE), Royal Enclave, Srirampura, Jakkur PO. Bangalore - 560064, Karnataka, India. Website: www.atree.org Tel: 91-80-23635555 | Fax: 91-80- 23530070

Contents

ATREE regional offices Eastern Himalaya Office C/o Theyzong Heem, Near Brahmakumari’s Development Area, Gangtok 737101, India Tel: 91-3592-206403 New Delhi (Liaison and Development) C-86, 2nd floor, B.K. Dutt Colony New Delhi 110003, India. Tel: 011-24603134

The Painted Word

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Foreword

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Acknowledgements

Introduction

Society and conservation Non-timber forest products, livelihoods and sustainability: What have we learnt?

Shrinking harvest: Genetic consequences and challenges for sustainable harvesting of non-timber forest products

Tryst with Lantana camara

Beyond trekker platitudes: How forests and farmers fare in an Eastern Himalayan forest edge

Hiremath, AJ., Rai, ND., Siddhartha, A. (Eds.) 2017. Transcending boundaries: Reflecting on twenty years of action and research at ATREE. Bangalore: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment.

Engaging in Eastern Himalaya-Northeast India: Twenty years and beyond

Design and Layout: Suneha Mohanty

Conservation in the wide blue yonder of Agasthyamalai: Can knowledge be linked with action?

W.Q. Judge Press, 97 Residency Road, Bangalore - 560 025. Phone.: 91-80-2221 1168, 2224 0561

Siddappa Setty, Sharachchandra Lele and Safia Aggarwal

Ravikanth G. and Siddappa Setty All chapters, unless otherwise noted, are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3 License. You are free to copy, distribute and transmit the work, and to remix or adapt the work under the following conditions: • You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work). • For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license terms of this work. • Any of the above conditions can be waived if you get permission from the copyright holder. • Nothing in this license impairs or restricts the author’s moral rights. The full text of this license is available at: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

R. Uma Shaanker and Gladwin Joseph

Siddhartha Krishnan, Soubadra Devy M., Sarala Khaling and Jagdish Krishnaswamy

Recommended citation:

Sarala Khaling and Sunita Pradhan

Soubadra Devy M., T. Ganesh and R. Ganesan

One size needn’t fit all: Conservation lessons from longterm research in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve, South India.

Whose river? The changing waterscape of the upper Arkavathy under urbanisation

Veena Srinivasan, Sharachchandra Lele, Bejoy K. Thomas and Priyanka Jamwal

Ankila J. Hiremath, Nitin D. Rai and C. Made Gowda

Ecosystems in transition Rainforest dynamics in a changing world: Monitoring plants, animals and climate at Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve, Tamil Nadu

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Perspectives on conservation and development A cultural crisis amidst the ecological crisis: Critiquing the conservationist understanding of culture

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Domesticating water: The challenges in Indian cities

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Contested waterscapes: Land use change, decentralised interventions and complex impacts

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Conserving the less charismatic: Making conservation inclusive for insect diversity

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The nitty gritty of a name: Systematic biology and conservation

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Why do we care? Unpacking the ‘environmental’ in our environmental science

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A dialogue of disciplines: ATREE’s PhD programme in conservation science and sustainability studies

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Siddhartha Krishnan

T. Ganesh, Soubadra Devy M. and R. Ganesan

Navigating murky waters: Challenges and approaches for conservation planning of freshwater ecosystems of India

Aravind NA., Madhushree Munsi and Roshmi Rekha Sarma

Filling in the (forest) blanks: The past, present, and future of India’s savanna grasslands

Abi T. Vanak, Ankila J. Hiremath, Siddhartha Krishnan, T. Ganesh and Nitin D. Rai

Moving from requiem to revival: India’s rivers and riverine ecosystems

Jagdish Krishnaswamy, Manish Kumar, Nachiket Kelkar, Tarun Nair and Vidyadhar Atkore

Addressing pollution in urban rivers: Lessons from the Vrishabhavathy river in Bengaluru

Bejoy K. Thomas, N. Deepthi and Priyanka Jamwal

Shrinivas Badiger and Sharachchandra Lele

Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan, Anu Radhakrishnan and Seena Narayanan Karimbumkara

R. Ganesan, Aravind NA., Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan and G. Ravikanth

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Priyanka Jamwal and Sharachchandra Lele

Going with the flow: Urban wastewater and livelihood change in peri-urban Bengaluru

Durba Biswas and Veena Srinivasan

Sharachchandra Lele

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Nitin D. Rai and Gladwin Joseph

The Painted Word As the world of commerce figured out hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of years ago, there is a secret to communication, and it does not lie in obscuring your message in thousands of highfalutin words. Even better, if some of those thousands are replaced by a visual—an image, a graphic, an illustration. From cave paintings to modern advertising, people have known that the best way to get a message across is visually. As a tribe, scientists didn’t get the memo. One of the most memorable advertisements that I can recall is the award winning no-smoking ad (by an Indian, incidentally) that shows the Marlboro man wearing his iconic hat and standing with his hand on his head, looking very puzzled, in that unforgettable desert scene. In front of him is a dead horse, and the message, “Second hand smoke kills.” Environmental campaigners have tried to use this approach as well: in Mexico, sea turtle conservationists trying to reduce egg consumption put out an ad with a beautiful woman looking at the camera and saying (sultrily), “Mi hombre no necessita huevos de tortuga.” (My man doesn’t need turtle eggs.) It is not my suggestion that environmental scientists of various hues swap their keyboards for paintbrushes, or that we enter an era of aggressive pro-environment advertising. However, I do think that we should all give greater consideration to the variety of media—photo-stories, illustrated blogs, videos—that can enhance the impact of our research. Often, we leave it to others, the purveyors of the popular magazine, to make this happen, but we should all engage with the process more actively and ensure that our work reaches out in a format that gets, as they say in media world, the most eyeballs. Science communication has moved quite rapidly, particularly in the West, from the domain of professional magazines to universities. Citizen science is now becoming popular across the globe, and has attracted sufficient attention that public science positions are being created in departments, and interdepartmental collaborations being encouraged, at many major universities. While not exactly receiving short shrift in India—magazines like Resonance have been around for a while, and Science Reporter for even longer—widespread engagement of the public by scientists is definitely lacking. With that in mind, the Fellows at ATREE felt that it was time we presented a collective account of our work in a manner that could appeal to a wider audience, at least more than the 12 people who read our research papers. This volume is an effort in that direction, and will be, we hope, the first of many from ATREE, and inspire more such publications within the field of ecology, environmental conservation, and sustainability.

Kartik Shanker Director, ATREE January 2017

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Foreword India is blessed with a unique natural heritage. Past history of the earth, coupled with its current geography, has made India one of the top mega-diversity countries of the world. The country has about 800,000 or almost 8% of all known species on our planet, many of them found nowhere else in the world. Two of the largest mountain chains of the world, the Himalaya, and the Western Ghats, are sources of many rivers. The basins of these rivers, some among the largest in Asia, sustain almost a fourth of the humanity in South Asia. The Himalaya has the third-largest reservoir of ice that plays a critical role in the regulation of water and climate on earth. Our environmental heritage has been under assault for quite some time. The burgeoning human population, unsustainable development, and lack of sound policies, have lead to erosion of our biodiversity, dried rivers, polluted soil and aquifers, and made air unfit to breathe. Along the coasts and in oceans, mangroves have almost vanished, coral reefs have bleached, and fisheries, as well as other marine life, have declined. Ongoing climate change will surely exacerbate these negative impacts of human activities on biodiversity, water, and air.

When we set up ATREE in 1996, our idea was to establish a modest research centre. Our intention was simple and humble: to establish a unit to generate relevant basic interdisciplinary knowledge required for the conservation of biodiversity. The vision later expanded to include other environmental issues such as water and climate change. Today, ATREE is a premier interdisciplinary organisation with three spheres of activities—knowledge generation, capacity building, and outreach. Ranked among the top 20 environmental think tanks in the world, researchers at ATREE are advancing frontiers of knowledge in critical sub-disciplines of sustainability science. What makes the work at ATREE very different or unique is the synthesis of knowledge in the search for solutions that can simultaneously foster the betterment of the environment and the human condition. Our environmental problems are going to become more severe and harder to deal with. Clearly, ATREE has greater challenges ahead. ATREE faculty will undoubtedly continue to generate salient, relevant, and useful knowledge in areas of conservation and sustainable use of natural resources. At the same time, ATREE’s graduate programme will continue to be a source of innovative and transformative ideas for its students and faculty.

Publications such as ‘Transcending boundaries. Reflecting on twenty years of action and research at ATREE’ are needed to constantly remind us of the pressing problems we face and the possible ways these problems might be resolved. Investments in environmental research, governance and policy, and in preparing the next generation of environmental leaders, are incommensurate with the severe challenges we are facing today. On the other hand, the environmental problems and their social, economic, and political impacts are continuing to grow and become more complex.

The real challenge now, and in the immediate future, is how new knowledge is integrated into policies and governance to enable society to adequately respond to the continuing degradation of the environment; how competing demands for natural resources, including land for such needs as food production, urbanisation, biodiversity, and mitigation of climate change, are reconciled or modeled to explore alternative options, keeping in mind the issues of equity and social justice; and how broader societal goals are aligned with programmes to protect the environment.

This publication is intended to compile a snapshot of the spectrum of work being undertaken at ATREE so as to serve as a stock taking of where we stand, and where we are heading. Clearly, the papers presented here reflect the diversity of programmes undertaken by the ATREE staff, and they broadly fall under four themes: biodiversity, changing ecosystems, ecosystems and local communities, and water and society, more or less corresponding to ATREE’s thematic programmes. Issues such as climate change, governance, and policy cut across almost all themes.

In the not too distant future, we look forward to seeing another similar volume describing the efforts to meet new challenges. Hopefully, such a volume would set another example of the capacity of ATREE to deal with the continually emerging new issues, a hallmark of vibrant and dynamic organisations. ATREE has matured to the stage where it has the demonstrated capacity to not only provide new models to address our local and regional challenges, but to also lead the world in offering innovative and transformative ideas and solutions for the resolution of the most pressing global environmental problems. For us, as foster parents, this maturation into adulthood is a great source of satisfaction and joy.

The work by ATREE’s researchers is uniquely characterized by a lab-to-land approach in the conservation of natural resources. Be it bio-resources, aquatic systems, or genetic resources, the spectrum of work undertaken covers a wide range: generation of basic knowledge to understand the dynamics of natural systems; the use of state-of-the-art tools for analysis of the complex of human- environment interactions; and adoption of multi-disciplinary approaches to explore effective strategies for conservation and protection of natural resources. Further, as evident from the paper on the doctoral programme, ATREE takes special pride in adopting an interdisciplinary approach in its education and capacity building programmes as well. The publication thus effectively showcases the current profile of ATREE’s programmes on research and education.

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Kamal Bawa K.N. Ganeshaiah R. Uma Shaanker The Founding Trustees, ATREE January 2017

Acknowledgements A book that aims to present the work done over the course of many years within an institution necessarily involves the support, both directly, and indirectly, of many people. Attempting to acknowledge all of these people will be impossible, and we thank them all for their assistance. The germ of the idea was first proposed by Kamal Bawa, and saw enormous support from all ATREE fellows. This gave us the needed inspiration to put in the effort to get this book off the ground, and to keep it going over the year and a half that it finally took to complete. The periodic encouragement and wise advice at every step of the way from Kartik Shanker was invaluable. Our sincere gratitude goes to the authors who have contributed chapters to this book. Their goodwill and enthusiasm has been very encouraging. The editors wish to acknowledge the contributions of the reviewers, both from within and outside ATREE, who helped in the improvement of content, coherence, and presentation of the chapters. They are: Abi T. Vanak, Ajit Menon, Aravind N.A., Arpitha Kodiveri, Bejoy K. Thomas, Durba Biswas, G. Ravikanth, Jagdish Krishnaswamy, Kamal Bawa, Kartik Shanker, Milind Bunyan, Shrinivas Badiger, Siddappa Setty, Siddhartha Krishnan, Soubadra Devy, Ulka Kelkar and Veena Srinivasan. We would like to acknowledge the illustrators who helped in adding colour to this book: Aditya Bharadwaj, Ananya Singh, Jayesh Sivan, Kabini Amin, Kalyani Ganapathy, Megha Vishwanath, Prabha Mallya, Reshu Singh, Sheena Deviah, Shreyas R. Krishnan, Smitha Shivaswamy, Sonali Zohra and Vartika Sharma. We thank all those who have contributed pictures to this book from within ATREE, Sandesh Kadur, and Kalyan Varma, who responded to our periodic requests for photographs. Our thanks to Spatica Ramanujam who helped copy edit the chapters in the book. Suneha Mohanty was the vital link between the editors and the artists. She also did the layout and design of the book. We would like to acknowledge her superb effort. Support for this book came from a grant to ATREE by the Royal Norwegian Embassy.

Introduction Ankila J. Hiremath and Nitin D. Rai

In an essay titled ‘The Tiger and the Honeybee’, Savyasaachi used these two creatures—one a large magnificent animal that at once inspires awe and symbolises power, the other a diminutive insect that seldom attracts attention, yet is crucial to the functioning of forests, the pollination of crop plants, and the livelihoods of forest-dependent communities—as symbolic of the widely divergent ways that the state and local people perceive forests in India. On the one hand, the view that centralised, top-down, exclusionary management of inviolate forests is necessary for the conservation of the tiger (and other such large mammals). On the other—and at odds with the first—a view of landscapes, animals, and humans as being complex interlinked ecological entities, whose fates are closely intertwined with each other. In many ways these two creatures are an apt metaphor for the two broad movements that have come to characterize concern for the environment in India. The conservation movement, which has largely focused on large, charismatic mammals; and the environmental movement, which has focused on rights-based struggles of forest- and other natural-resource-dependent peoples. The 1970s and 1980s saw widespread expressions of both these sets of concerns, with the notification of the Wildlife Protection Act in 1972, and Project Tiger in 1973, as well as the Chipko andolan (1973), and several well known struggles against large dams (e.g., Tehri and Sardar Sarovar), and polluting industries (e.g., rayon factories in Kerala and Karnataka, tanneries in Tamil Nadu). The post-independence developmental juggernaut attracted little or no discussion of its environmental impact, due to the euphoria over nation building. By the 1990s, however, a resurgent global environmental discourse refocused national attention on environmental concerns. In the 1990s the term ‘biodiversity’ had been newly coined. The immense interest in conserving biodiversity gave rise to a dramatic increase in protected area coverage. Protected areas were seen as the solution to global declines in biodiversity. Such areas were set up by the state, often with disregard for local people and their rights. Continued resistance from local groups, to top-down conservation efforts that were alienating communities, gave rise to community-based participatory approaches that were being seen as necessary for the long-term viability of conservation. It was in this milieu that ATREE was established in 1996.

ATREE OVER THE YEARS All of ATREE’s work, whether on biodiversity conservation, water, and more recently, climate change, is underlain by a concern for livelihoods, justice, and democratic governance. Incorporating these normative concerns into our work called for not just conversations between natural and social scientists, but also for researchers who blurred the boundaries between disciplines in their everyday work. ATREE soon became known as an institution that provided space for such collaborative conversations and encouraged researchers to cross disciplinary boundaries. The interdisciplinary nature of ATREE’s work, has, from the beginning, made it a little bit of the ‘outsider’ institution in the environment research sector. However this has been liberating for us. It has enabled ATREE to foster diversity—of disciplines and approaches. And it has enabled individuals coming from different disciplinary moorings to benefit from 2

the diverse perspectives on offer and to approach problems in ways for which there is little space in traditional research institutions. ATREE’s ‘outsider’ position has also allowed us to question dominant ideas in conservation and development. As the examples in the book show, research has questioned such issues as protected areas, urban water supply norms, forest governance systems, river management plans, and the concept of ecosystem services. The outcome of such critical research is that it provides alternate conceptualisations of a variety of conservation and development interventions. By being able to see these issues from different disciplinary perspectives, researchers are also able to conceive of partnerships and collaborations with a range of actors. The chapters in this volume demonstrate the range of such partnerships with adivasi organisations, civil society groups, citizen scientists, university faculty, state planners, pollution board members, forest administration, and central government ministry officials. Over the last 20 years, the geographic spread of ATREE’s work has expanded from the Western Ghats and Eastern Himalayas, to almost the entire country, and from forests, to grasslands, wetlands, and peri-urban landscapes. Alongside, the focus of our work has expanded from studying biodiversity to analyzing the biophysical and socioeconomic drivers of ecosystem change, and their implications for conservation and sustainable development. Yet the core of what we do has remained the questioning and interrogating of prevailing paradigms, and the production of rigorous interdisciplinary knowledge that can inform civil society and policy makers. The present volume is an effort to share this 20-year history of ATREE.

THE CHAPTERS We invited faculty researchers currently associated with ATREE to contribute to this volume. The result is a set of chapters that attempts to capture some of the learnings from ATREE’s applied environmental research programmes. Given the diversity of topics, questions, scales, and locations, it is difficult to concisely convey the conceptual bases of the research in a brief volume of this type. However, it is clear that researchers at ATREE have always sought to engage with the biophysical and the social dimensions of environmental problems. The book is divided into three sections that present some of the ongoing and past research and practice in ATREE, while also tracing the thematic and conceptual evolution of ATREE’s work: society and conservation; ecosystems in transition; and perspectives on conservation and development. Society and conservation The dominant understanding, from colonial times to this day, is that local people’s use of forests causes ecological degradation. The response from the state was to therefore restrict people’s customary use of the forest. Twenty years ago ATREE researchers thought differently. The idea that forests have been historically used and managed by local people has been central to ATREE’s work. Realising that forest use was an important livelihood option, ATREE researchers worked on approaches that would enhance incomes, such as adding value to forest produce and enhancing market access. Over the years there has 3

been a gradual shift in our understanding of the drivers of ecological change. We recognize today that it is not forest use, alone, that affects ecological condition of the forest but also tenurial regimes, institutions, socio-cultural contexts, and historical practice. The chapters in this section tell the story of a complex set of factors that influence the relationship between people and conservation. ATREE’s earliest work focused on conservation and NTFP-based livelihoods. Siddappa Setty and others draw on two decades of accumulated experience on non-timber forest products (NTFP) from forests in South and Central India, and share insights they have gained on the ecological, social, and institutional underpinnings of harvesting NTFP sustainably, and enhancing NTFP-linked livelihoods. For most people, sustainable NTFP harvesting implies maintaining stable populations of NTFP species to ensure that NTFP continue to be available for harvest year-after-year. In a related piece, Ravikanth and Siddappa Setty draw our attention to a little-appreciated aspect of sustainability, that of maintaining genetic diversity so that NTFP species are buffered not just against harvest pressures but also against random and directional environmental change. They propose a series of local interventions to buffer against impacts such as these, which are often difficult to detect. In many forests across India, biodiversity, including NTFP diversity, has become compromised by the spread of exotic invasive species. Forest departments across the country are starting to include invasive species control into forest management plans, but this is an expensive proposition. Uma Shaanker and Gladwin Joseph describe an innovative effort to offset the livelihood costs due to the spread of invasive species by finding ways for NTFP-dependent communities to use a widespread invasive plant, Lantana camara. Moving from ways to enhance livelihoods and conservation, Siddhartha Krishnan and others provide a different perspective on the role of forests in the livelihoods of local communities. They describe the case of a small farming village in the Eastern Himalaya, and elaborate on the changing relationship of these communities with the forest. They suggest that rather than merely seeing forests as providing services we must also think of how people might be co-producing services. They argue that people and forests interact to produce relationships rather than merely ‘services’. The remaining three chapters in this section draw on long-term work in landscapes where ATREE has had a continuous two-decade engagement. Sarala Khaling and Sunita Pradhan, recounting ATREE’s work in the Eastern Himalaya, describe how, from its very localised beginnings in conservation research and action, and promoting sustainable livelihoods in the Darjeeling hills, ATREE has been able to forge knowledge-generation and outreach partnerships with organisations across the entire Northeast Indian region. Soubadra Devy and others tell us how, over the years, their work in Kalakad Mundanturai Tiger Reserve (KMTR) has expanded to include the larger landscape matrix outside the park, given their observations of the fast rate at which it was transforming. They describe the research and action challenges this has posed, and their learning from working with a diverse set of stakeholders to conserve biodiversity in multi-use landscapes, whether it is working with Panchayats to manage wetlands for use by people and birds, or exploring ap4

propriate conservation models that would preserve traditional migratory routes, and grazing grounds, for Konar shepherds and their sheep, within a rapidly-fragmenting landscape. Ankila Hiremath and others provide a critical perspective on protected areas by synthesizing long-term research in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve (BRT) to suggest that human use of protected areas may not be inimical to conservation. In fact, as is the case in BRT, some of the present-day threats to conservation may have resulted from the cessation of past management practices at the time that the protected area was notified. They suggest that the space created by the Forest Rights Act could be utilised to explore novel models of conservation in landscapes with a long history of human occupation and use. Ecosystems in transition The last few decades have seen accelerating environmental change wrought by drivers at multiple scales—whether land-use and land-cover transformations, growing urbanization, or increasing climate variability. In the first chapter of this section Ganesh and colleagues highlight the importance of long-term research to understand the potential impacts of drivers such as climate change. Drawing on nearly 20 years of monitoring tree phenology (i.e., the patterns of flowering and fruiting) in KMTR, they demonstrate the complexity of these patterns, which would not have been apparent in the absence of long-term monitoring; they also point to the potential impacts on flowering and fruiting, with changing rainfall trends, which could have long-term implications for forest dynamics and composition. Just as conservation has historically focused on large mammals, most of our conservation efforts have focused on the forested landscapes that are home to these large mammals. In the process, both biodiversity outside protected areas, and non-forest areas, have been neglected. The latter is also a legacy of our colonial history, with an administration that sought to label as ‘wasteland’ all areas that were not potentially taxable. This categorization persists, and the Wasteland Atlas of India encompasses large swathes of the country that are under snow and ice, rock, wetlands, and grasslands. It is some of these ‘wastelands’ that are presently the targets of land cover transformations, and are amongst the most threatened landscapes in the country. Aravind and colleagues make a compelling argument to save our wetland ecosystems, which range from rivers, to high altitude lakes, to man-made ecosystems such as paddy fields, ponds, and reservoirs. These ecosystems are unique habitats for endemic and fragile flora and fauna, and also provide a range of ecosystem services. They outline a systematic conservation planning approach for these wetlands. Abi Vanak and others focus on another threatened and fast-transforming ecosystem—savanna grasslands. Grasslands have received short shrift due to a historical preoccupation with forests as sources of timber revenue. Grasslands, then, came to be either regarded as wastelands, or as forests degraded by human use. Vanak and colleagues draw on historical and palaeoecological evidence to make the case that India’s savanna grasslands have been misclassified and misconstrued, and that they deserve to be conserved, along with their unique biodiversity, and the pastoral livelihoods and cultures that they support. 5

Jagdish Krishnaswamy and colleagues call one’s attention to other misunderstood ecosystems—India’s rivers. They describe the present day plight of our rivers, their transformation, and the multiple threats they continue to face. This, they say, is a result of a short-sighted engineering perspective that has dominated thinking on river management. But they also offer some hope. A reimagining of rivers as interconnected ecosystems—rather than as mere conduits for water—could help ensure their continued existence as dynamic socio-ecological systems. Finally, in a collection of closely related chapters, Priyanka Jamwal and Sharad Lele, Bejoy Thomas and colleagues, and Veena Srinivasan and colleagues provide a detailed multi-faceted perspective of the impacts of rapid urban expansion—in this case, Bengaluru—on the neighbouring waterscapes of the Arkavathy and Vrishabhavathy. Jamwal and Lele focus on the sources and regulation of pollution in urban watersheds and draw management conclusions that could apply to other cities as well. They show that urbanisation not only makes rivers perennial but also pollutes them in the process. This is due both to the lack of regulatory frameworks, and to the absence of standards that are based on specific end uses of these water bodies. They end by advocating participatory approaches as well as rigorous monitoring of polluters. For all of this to happen a complete restructuring of the pollution control boards is necessary and urgent. Thomas and colleagues shift their focus to the peri-urban context downstream of the city, where water is abundant but of poor quality. Their questions focus on the future of agriculture in the context of urbanization and the response of farmers to using polluted water. Their findings complicate the established understanding that urban areas would impoverish peri-urban agricultural systems due to changing agrarian and livelihoods strategies. They find that the availability of nutrient rich (albeit highly polluted) water in one watershed intensifies agricultural production aimed at the urban market, while an adjoining watershed that does not receive such water follows the pattern one might expect, of urban migration and declining agriculture. This, however, poses many questions, not the least of which is the huge health toll that urbanization wreaks on both farming communities and urban consumers of this agricultural produce. Srinivasan and others describe the fate of a river that no longer flows as it once did, and explore a range of possible reasons for the decline, such as decreasing rainfall, increasing evapotranspiration, groundwater extraction, eucalyptus plantations, and changing watershed management regimes. They conclude that urbanisation and development have had enormous impacts on the basin, and end with a call for increased public participation in determining the future of urban watershed management. Perspectives on conservation and development The ability to analyse complex environmental issues hinges on our understanding of frameworks and perspectives that have been built on established intellectual traditions. To address environmental problems and bring diverse disciplines into dialogue for this purpose, there is the constant need to revisit these integrated frameworks. In this section some authors draw on their long-term empirical work to revise perspectives that have influenced 6

their work, and others draw on the literature to propose new ways of understanding environment-society interactions. In a chapter that is critical of conventional usage of the term ‘cultural’ to refer to a category of ecosystem services, Siddhartha Krishnan takes a sociologist’s perspective to critique the simplistic understanding of culture. He describes, in detail, the nuanced treatment of culture in the anthropological literature, and proposes instead that the term ‘culture’ be replaced by ‘social’ so as to capture more fully the relationship between nature and society. Durba Biswas and Veena Srinivasan address the debate on whether all households in urban centres could be provided piped water full-time. Such a question has physical (the quantity and quality of water), economic (pricing and distribution), and social (equity of access) implications. Given the growing and inequitable demands for water in urban centres, the authors look at alternatives to the existing sources of water supply using the city of Coimbatore as the focus of their study. They suggest that a dual (ground- and imported water) supply system may be a more viable option in India cities, compared to the piped 24/7 water supply model of Western cities. In a detailed analysis of the impact on watersheds of interventions such as changing forest vegetation, agricultural practices, and water conservation and use systems, Shrinivas Badiger and Sharad Lele show that the influence of such interventions are cumulative and interactive. They emphasise the importance of understanding linkages between the various physical and social components of the watershed, as well as the technical context for these interventions. They also offer a warning that silver bullet proposals for watershed improvement such as check dams, and plantations of fast growing species, might have differential hydrological and social consequences. Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan and others provide a much-needed corrective to the current conservation focus on large mammals by first describing the important role of insects in maintaining biological diversity values, and subsequently explaining how taxonomists might play a major role in insect conservation. They suggest that insects might be a model taxon to reform taxonomy, which for long has been the privilege of scientific institutions. Such citizen science involvement could revitalise a landscape- and habitat-conservation approach, and prompt a move away from the single-species approach that is currently prevalent. Rengaian Ganesan and others emphasise that the first step to achieving the goal of biodiversity conservation is to document and assess the biodiversity in the ecosystems of a region. They point to the obstacles to taxonomic research in India, even as they highlight the value of taxonomic databases in setting conservation priorities. They then go on to talk about some of their recent initiatives to broaden the base for taxonomy in India, both through involving citizen scientists (via the India Biodiversity portal, an open access biodiversity information platform for India, in the establishment of which ATREE played a vital role) and through policy outreach. In a personal account of how we might define what is an environmental problem, Sharad Lele argues that environmental science, and the definition of environmental problems, is neces7

sarily value laden. Such an acknowledgement allows us to see that environmental problems are also social, and vice versa, that social issues have ecological bases. This is a powerful remedial to the assumption of value neutrality that pervades research in the sciences. Lele’s paper is an appropriate segway into the chapter by Nitin Rai and Gladwin Joseph on ATREE’s PhD programme. They highlight how the teaching and mentoring of students in the programme attempts to integrate across disciplines. The main features of the PhD programme are the crossing of disciplinary boundaries, the analysis of a range of case studies in different disciplines, while at the same time strengthening students’ fundamental theoretical and methodological knowledge for applied research on environment and development.

TRANSCENDING BOUNDARIES In speaking of bridging disciplinary boundaries, we would be remiss in not drawing attention to the unique collaboration that this book, itself, represents—between ATREE’s natural and social scientists, on the one hand, and a very talented group of artists on the other. The illustrations that accompany the chapters in this book have resulted from the artists’ engaging with the concepts and case studies described, interpreting them, and translating them into a language that has its own unique eloquence. India, at the start of the 21st century, appears to be at a point when—to borrow a term recently used by Madhav Gadgil—‘developmentalism’ is taking the place of environmentalism. Developmentalism has implications for environment and people, as the authors of essays in this volume so evocatively narrate. The impact on landscapes and society of consumptive lifestyles and an energy intensive economy requires urgent understanding and action. Now, more than ever, we need institutions and individuals who can engage with complex environmental problems that transcend disciplinary boundaries. We need environmental researchers who are committed to not only generating relevant knowledge, but also conveying it to a diverse audience of citizens, civil society organisations, and policy makers. This has been at the core of ATREE’s research and teaching. We offer this collection of essays with the hope that it will generate discussion on new ways of thinking about environment and developmental issues. Further reading Ghosh, A. 2008. Wild fictions. Outlook India, New Delhi. Available from http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?239276. Redford, KH. 2011. Misreading the conservation landscape. Oryx 45 (3): 324–30.

Society and Conservation

Introduction

Non-timber forest products, livelihoods and sustainability: What have we learnt? Siddappa Setty, Sharachchandra Lele and Safia Aggarwal

People have been gathering fruits, nuts, flowers, twigs, leaves, bark and other plant parts from the forest for millennia. Policy attention to such ‘minor’ forest products dates back to at least the colonial period, when taxing and control of such products became ubiquitous. But the term, ‘non-timber forest products’ (NTFPs) emerged only in 1989, and it came not from an economic perspective but an ecological one, one that sought to distinguish between ‘destructive’ extraction of timber and ‘benign’ extraction of NTFPs. Worldwide, NTFP-focused forest management has been championed as a win-win between meeting livelihood needs and conservation goals. In India, NTFP collection continues to be a significant part of the livelihoods of forest-dwelling communities, with estimates of the numbers of people involved in it ranging from 100 to 250 million. But the debate as to whether NTFP-focused forest management can be a win-win (as many civil society groups argue), or whether it is in fact a lose-lose as a low-income and ecologically destructive livelihood (as many policy makers continue to believe), is far from settled. The question, therefore, is whether, and under what conditions, can NTFP harvest be ecologically sustainable and also contribute to enhancing rural livelihoods.

Sonali Zohra 10

ATREE’s research over the past 20 years has attempted to answer different dimensions of this question. The research began even before the founding of ATREE, when a team of researchers, led by Kamal Bawa, launched a long-term action research programme—an NTFP-enterprise-based approach to conservation—in partnership with the Soliga adivasi community and the Vivekananda Girijana Kalyan Kendra in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple (BRT) Wildlife Sanctuary, Karnataka. Over time, a number of researchers from ATREE and several collaborating organisations have deepened the work at this site,

while studies in other parts of the Western Ghats and central-eastern India have expanded the scope. We present a broad-brush picture of the key insights from this body of work along the twin dimensions of ecological sustainability and livelihood enhancement.

ECOLOGICAL AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS FOR SUSTAINABLE HARVEST OF NTFPS Historically, the use of NTFPs may have been largely sustainable, i.e., maintained productivity and regeneration undiminished, because the quantities of harvest involved in subsistence use were generally small. The challenge comes when NTFPs are being harvested for sale, because this can lead to much greater intensities of harvest. Can harvesting at such intensities also be sustainable? Under what ecological conditions—such as harvest magnitudes and methods, other management practices, and exogenous factors? Under what social conditions—such as knowledge levels and tenure arrangements? Impact of harvest Much of the research on NTFP sustainability has focused on the quantity of harvest, in the belief that this variable is most likely to affect future productivity of the harvested individual, and future regeneration of the species. Across several NTFPs, however, ATREE research has shown that harvest levels have less of an impact as compared to harvesting methods. One of the most important NTFPs in BRT is amla (Indian gooseberry). There are two species of amla, Phyllanthus emblica and P. indofischeri, both of which are harvested. Monitoring of the populations of the two species over a 3 year period in 10 0.1 ha plots indicated that seedling and sapling mortality of P. emblica was higher than that of P. indofischeri, despite the fact that the harvest at landscape levels of the former was lower (29%) than that

of the latter (60%)1. Further, the size-class distribution—an indicator of population sustainability—of P. emblica was similar to that in the Mudumalai Wildlife Sanctuary (Tamil Nadu), where there was minimal harvest of P. emblica2. It was clear that factors other than harvest had an impact on amla regeneration, corroborating earlier observations3. A detailed analysis of 10 years of monitoring sample populations of these two species was carried out to assess the effects of harvest4. There was a difference in harvesting levels between species: 55–65% of fruit produced for P. emblica (which occurs in the moister regions), and up to 88% for P. indofischeri (which occurs in the drier region). But when other factors were controlled, both species of amla showed good recruitment of seedlings, regardless of the level of fruit harvest. Also, a ban on harvesting that had been imposed from 2006–2009 did not affect recruitment levels or population growth rates of the two species. On the other hand, if, while harvesting amla fruit, large (primary) branches of trees are cut— which harvesters sometimes do for convenience—it significantly decreases fruit production of those trees in the following years5. Conversely, if, while harvesting amla, harvesters prune mistletoe hemiparasites—an infestation that is common in BRT and has the potential 1

Setty, RS. 2004. Ecology and productivity of studies on some non-timber forest products of Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Wildlife Sanctuary. Ph.D. Thesis. University of Mysore, Mysuru, India. 2

Ganesan, R. and RS. Setty. 2004. Regeneration of Amla, an important non-timber forest product from southern India. Conservation and Society 2(2): 365-375.

Sinha, A. and KS. Bawa. 2002. Harvesting techniques, hemiparasites and fruit production in two non-timber forest tree species in south India. Forest Ecology and Management 168(1-3): 289–300.

to kill amla trees (see below)—this can restore fruit production of those trees6. In other words, the method of harvesting can have negative or positive effects on future productivity. The role of exogenous ecological factors When NTFP availability declines, it is almost invariably attributed to harvest levels or harvesting practices, prompting demands for imposing harvest restrictions. ATREE research, however, highlights the importance of several ‘exogenous’ processes, i.e., processes that are not the result of, or triggered by, NTFP harvesting that may influence NTFP availability. These include plant invasions, mistletoe infestations, fire, and grazing by wildlife or cattle. Lantana (Lantana camara), an invasive plant that is now present in many Indian forests, appears to have a significant impact on vegetation dynamics in BRT, reducing the richness and abundance of native species, including that of NTFP species. For example, populations of amla trees declined by 16% over a 10 year period in areas that were heavily infested by lantana7. Lantana has negative effects on amla both directly and indirectly: where it is present, it stifles the growth of Phyllantus seedlings and saplings; but even where it is absent, Phyllanthus populations experience higher levels of grazing by wildlife, presumably because unpalatable lantana now occupies such a large fraction of the landscape. 6

Ticktin, T., R. Ganesan, M. Paramesha, and RS. Setty. 2012. Disentangling the effects of multiple anthropogenic drivers on the decline of two tropical dry forest trees. Journal Of Applied Ecology 49(4): 774–784.

Setty, RS., KS. Bawa, T. Ticktin, and CM. Gowda. 2008. Evaluation of a participatory resource monitoring system for nontimber forest products: the case of Amla (Phyllanthus spp.) fruit harvest by Soligas in South India. Ecology and Society 13(2): 19.

Setty. 2004. (see footnote 1)

and therefore intense fire is deleterious to the vegetation and its sustainability, whereas low intensity ground fires may be harmless or even stimulate regeneration. It is also observed that low intensity fires destroy the mistletoe on amla trees13.

Ticktin et al. 2012. (see footnote 4)

Mistletoe can also affect NTFP productivity and sustainability. Mistletoe (Taxillus tomentosus) is a hemiparasite that is found on more than half the amla trees in BRT, and particularly on mature reproductive trees that are important for population persistence8. Mistletoe infestation significantly reduces fruit production—according to harvesters by as much as 50%. Several studies confirmed a negative correlation for both species of amla9. Furthermore, mistletoe presence is correlated with declines in fruit and seed weights10, which may reduce viability of seeds, further affecting population sustainability. Fire—whether natural or anthropogenic—is also an important exogenous variable that potentially affects NTFP sustainability. The effect of fire on forests in general has been a matter of great controversy in India. While controlled burn experiments have not been possible in BRT, studies using oral recall11 or remote sensing12 to estimate historical fire frequency have concluded that infrequent

Ecological knowledge: traditional and modern

8 Rist, L., RU. Shaanker, EJ. Milner-Gulland, and J. Ghazoul. 2008. Managing mistletoes: the value of local practices for a non-timber forest resource. Forest Ecology and Management 255(5–6): 1684–1691. 9

Sinha and Bawa. 2002. (see footnote 3)

Overall, ATREE’s research in BRT has shown that it is not so much the ‘harvesting intensity’ as the ‘method of harvest’ that has an effect on NTFP populations. Moreover, other factors, such as invasive species and mistletoe, seem to play an equally significant role in NTFP dynamics. Thus, active management of invasives and mistletoe may be necessary to sustain NTFP harvest. As a result of ATREE’s outreach, when Soliga harvesters began pruning mistletoe while harvesting Phyllanthus sp., the productivity of those trees increased in subsequent years14.

Setty. 2004. (see footnote 1)

Sinha, A. and S. Brault. 2005. Assessing sustainability of non-timber forest product extractions: how fire affects sustainability. Biodiversity and Conservation 14(14): 3537–3563.

Nayak, RR., S. Vaidyanathan and J. Krishnaswamy. 2014. Fire and grazing modify grass community response to environmental determinants in savannas: implications for sustainable use. Agriculture, Ecosystems & Environment 185: 197–207.

Given the complex role of exogenous ecological factors, harvest levels, and harvesting methods, in determining NTFP sustainability, the immediate social question is whether harvesters possess adequate knowledge of these ecological dynamics. Several ATREE studies have examined the extent and validity of traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) about NTFPs. In one study, TEK was compared with modern knowledge in the context of mistletoe infection on amla trees15. It was found that knowledge regarding primary host species, mistletoe distribution across forest types and 13

Setty. 2004. (see footnote 1)

Setty et al. 2008. (see footnote 6)

Rist et al. 2008. (see footnote 8)

Nelli, or amla (Phyllanthus sp.) being harvested by a Soliga NTFP collector in MM Hills Wildlife Sanctuary. (Photo: Siddappa Setty) within the amla population, and mistletoe phenology and optimal growing conditions matched well. Additionally, harvesters provided quantitative estimates of factors such as prevalence of infection in considerably less time, and at a fraction of the cost, when compared to conventional scientific investigations. TEK also extended current knowledge in one instance, regarding mistletoe’s bird dispersers. However, there were some discrepancies between the two types of knowledge, most notably for secondary host species, dispersal mechanisms, the different susceptibilities of the two amla species, and the differential effects of infestation on them. Similarly, another study comparing TEK with scientific data regarding lantana invasion and its impacts on the forest also found a high degree of agreement regarding factors contributing to the spread of lantana, changes in forest composition, and the effect on local livelihoods16. It is possible that, when NTFP harvest reaches commercial proportions, TEK, which tends to be qualitative, may not be enough for the kind 16

Sundaram, B., S. Krishnan, AJ. Hiremath, and G. Joseph. 2012. Ecology and impacts of the invasive species, Lantana camara, in a social-ecological system in South India: perspectives from local knowledge. Human Ecology 40(6): 931–942.

of adaptive management that will be required. ATREE’s action research team has, over a 10 year period, tried to develop a participatory resource monitoring approach, involving mapping and monitoring of amla fruit production, harvest, and regeneration in partnership with the Soligas17. They found that visual estimates of fruit production made by harvesters were very similar to estimates obtained using standard scientific monitoring protocols. They also found that the Soligas were quite keen to participate in monitoring to estimate production (because it helped them identify areas to harvest, and to estimate the quantity to be tendered more accurately). However, they were less keen to participate in monitoring regeneration, because the time involved was much more, and the benefits uncertain, given the lack of long-term tenure. This highlights the interaction between tenure and the willingness to generate the knowledge needed for sustainable management.

was a major setback to the idea of community-based conservation. However, in October 2011, the Soligas succeeded in claiming Community Forest Rights for 25 Soliga villages under the Forest Rights Act of 2006. This has, in theory, changed things dramatically, giving them secure statutory tenure and a mandate for sustainable management. It remains to be seen whether, and how, this potentially radical shift plays out on the ground.

ENHANCING LIVELIHOOD GAINS FROM NTFP HARVEST

Resource tenure for sustainable harvest One of ATREE’s early contributions was to show that access and tenure are not the same thing— tenure is a superset that includes rights to exclude, manage, and sell. Analysis across southern Karnataka, including BRT, showed that forest-dependent communities, even when they are given access to NTFPs, did not engage in resource management because they lacked tenurial security and managerial rights18. The government made adivasi communities form cooperative societies known as LAMPS (Large-scale Adivasi Multipurpose Societies), which were given rights to harvest NTFPs. But these ‘rights’ were in the form of 2 year leases, the renewal of which was uncertain and time-consuming, making 17 18

Setty et al. 2008. (see footnote 6)

Lele, S. and RJ. Rao. 1996. Whose cooperatives and whose produce? the case of LAMPS in Karnataka. In: Rediscovering cooperation (ed. Rajagopalan, R.). Volume 2. Pp. 53–91. Anand, Gujarat: Institute of Rural Management Anand.

them highly insecure. Furthermore, although exclusively assigned to the adivasis on paper, other communities could not be prevented from harvesting these resources. Most importantly, these harvest rights did not include any say in NTFP or wider forest management. The Forest Department even decided where and when harvest would be permitted. An extreme illustration of tenurial insecurity came in 2004 when the government officially banned NTFP harvest because of a particular interpretation of a Supreme Court order. This was 8 years after ATREE had initiated the enterprise-based conservation programme. Apart from its livelihood impacts19, the ban 19 Sandemose, P. 2009. Local people and protected areas: the ban of NTFP collection for commercial use and effects on cash incomes and livelihoods of the Soligas in BR Hills, India. M.A thesis. The Norwegian University of Life sciences (NORAGRIC), Aas, Norway.

Much before the idea of promoting NTFP based livelihoods for their ecological sustainability became common, policy makers were engaging with the question of how forest-dependent communities could get better returns from NTFPs. Two measures were typically advocated: improving market access through scaling up via cooperative marketing, and capturing more of the final value through onsite value-added processing. ATREE’s policy research on cooperative marketing across multiple states, and our action research on value-added processing, have provided important insights vis-à-vis these measures. Tenure and livelihoods Resource tenure matters not just for ensuring sustainability, but also for maximising livelihoods gains from NTFPs. In its simplest form, the lack of resource ownership reduces NTFP harvesters to wage labourers. A multi-state study20 showed that many forest-dependent communities still do not have rights to valuable NTFPs, since many Central Indian states have historically ‘nationalised’ the high value NTFPs 20

Lele, S., M. Pattanaik, and ND. Rai. 2010. NTFPs in India: rhetoric and reality. In: Wild product governance: finding policies that work for non-timber forest products (eds. Laird, SA., RJ. McLain, and RP. Wynberg). Pp. 85–112. London: Earthscan.

such as bamboo, tendu (Diospyros melanoxylon) leaves, and sal (Shorea robusta) seeds, thereby tightly controlling their harvest, sale and trade. The states have historically extracted large profits from these products. For instance, the tendu leaf, which is used in wrapping tobacco to make the bidi (Indian cigarette), fetches a royalty of over Rs.1.5 billion annually for the state of Odisha alone21. Primary collectors/growers, in the meantime, are compensated only for their labour, often being paid at less than the state’s minimum wage. Even where states have, in the mid-2000s, moved to sharing an official zero-royalty policy, a significant slice of the sale price of the tendu leaf can end up with the state agencies, such as in Madhya Pradesh, with the tendu leaf harvesters still getting a low ‘wage’22. And even where states have not ‘nationalised’ the produce, as in Karnataka, they were, for many decades, charging LAMPS significant royalties in exchange for harvesting rights. At the micro-level, even if harvesters have harvesting rights, if these rights are not coupled with rights to regulate harvest, not only is sustainability jeopardised, even returns from NTFP harvest can be reduced. The most telling example emerged from a study of wild honey harvesting in BRT. When certain honey resources (cliffs or trees) were left open-access (especially trees/cliffs with one or two bee colonies), competition amongst harvesters led to premature harvest of the honeycombs, resulting in lower honey yields and higher levels of larval loss that could potentially affect the numbers of the next generation of bees23. 21

Lakshmi, P. 2013. Linked social and ecological dynamics in a managed forest ecosystem: Kendu leaf extraction in Baisipalli Sanctuary, Odisha. M.A. thesis. Ambedkar University Delhi, Delhi, India.

Lele, S., V. Ramanujam, and J. Rai. 2015. Co-operative procurement and marketing of tendu leaves in Madhya Pradesh: image and reality. Bengaluru: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment. Environment and Development Discussion Paper no. 3.

Setty and Lele. unpublished manuscript.

Cooperative marketing If harvesters of NTFPs pool their resources and market them collectively, they should be able to obtain better prices in the market than if they sold the product individually. This has been the logic behind the forced cooperativisation of adivasi NTFP harvesters starting in the 1970s by most states in India. The state also lent funds to these cooperatives with the idea of loosening the control of NTFP contractors who also acted as money lenders. Unfortunately, such forced cooperativisation, even if well intentioned and heavily subsidised, has not worked much in favour of the NTFP harvesters. In Karnataka, even after 15–20 years of operation, the NTFP harvesters obtained only marginally better prices than what the traders offered. The LAMPS, instead of passing on most of the price obtained in auctions back to the harvesters, maintained high margins and still showed high losses. Short-term loans provided to the harvesters began to be controlled by intermediaries between the LAMPS and tribal settlements. The government-appointed officers of the Department of Cooperatives operate as secretaries of the LAMPS, who then call all the shots. In some cases, forest officers have become Presidents of the LAMPS. The size of each of the LAMPS, spread over an entire taluka or more, makes democratic functioning almost impossible. In short, lack of autonomous control over the cooperative by its members has led to inefficient and exploitative outcomes24. The experience from an even bigger cooperativisation effort in Madhya Pradesh is not much better25. In the late 1980s, the state imposed a three-tiered cooperative system (primary cooperatives, district unions, and state-level federation) for all NTFPs including the lucrative tendu leaf trade. Although har24

Lele and Rao. 1996. (see footnote 18)

Lele et al. 2015. (see footnote 22)

vester wages jumped sharply in the first year after cooperativisation, the gap between the average auction price and the price earned by the tendu leaf collectors slowly widened again. The state began to extract a slice for so-called development funds, also delaying some part of the payment (so-called bonus payments) by 12–14 months. Auction prices are lower than those obtained in neighbouring states. The reason for all this is again that the state has not handed over real control of these ‘cooperatives’ to the harvesters, allowing them to be run as extensions of the Forest Department and under the influence of NTFP contractors. Most ‘members’ have no knowledge of cooperative functioning, elections are rarely held, and harvester returns are fixed by bureaucrats and ministers, rather than by the cooperatives themselves. It seems that another ‘tenurial’ problem is at work here, even as harvesters are ostensibly given control over the resource, the forced, and state-managed cooperativisation means that they do not really control the organisation through which the product is brought to the market, i.e., the channels of market access. The Forest Rights Act has given full rights to forest-dwelling communities over NTFPs, and could potentially override the earlier legislations that ‘nationalised’ these NTFPs. However, most states have not allowed this rollback yet, and the experience from Maharashtra26 suggests that an abrupt withdrawal by the state will re-expose harvesters to the vagaries of NTFP markets. What states need to focus on is capacity building of the harvesters to engage successfully with the markets.

instead of selling the NTFPs in ‘raw’ form. The NTFP-enterprise based approach to conservation, which marked the start of ATREE’s work in BRT, was an experiment along these lines27. It involved setting up a processing unit for pasteurising and bottling raw honey, making pickles from amla, and powdering soapnut (Sapindus laurifolius) and shikakai (Acacia concinna). In spite of a huge financial subsidy and managerial and technical support over many years, it can at best be called a limited success when measured against the goal of increasing returns for the harvesters and

Value addition of NTFPs 27

Bawa, KS., S. Lele, KS. Murali, and B. Ganesan. 1999. Extraction of non-timber forest products in Biligiri Rangan Hills, India: monitoring a community-based project. In: Measuring conservation impact: an interdisciplinary approach to project monitoring and evaluation. (eds. Saterson K., R. Margolui and N. Salafsky). Pp. 89–102. Washington, D.C.: Biodiversity Support Program, World Wildlife Fund.

One oft-repeated suggestion for increasing returns from NTFP sale is for harvesters to also engage in ‘value-added processing’ 26

Lele and Aggarwal. unpublished manuscript.

Participatory resource mapping by the Soliga community in BRT Tiger Reserve as part of a community-based conservation initiate. (Photo: Siddappa Setty) empowering them to manage such enterprises themselves28. There were several reasons for this. Processing itself is not very labour intensive and was centralised in one location, thereby not generating enough jobs, or enabling broad-based participation. Members continued to view the enterprise as another wage-earning activity, and the quality of management even after many years has been highly variable. Learning from this experience, a recent project has adopted a strategy involving much more decentralised treatment centres and low capital investment. This could potentially benefit a much larger cross-section of the community. However, the processing unit and larger project were able to ‘indirectly’ benefit the Soliga 28

Lele, S., KS. Bawa, and CM Gowda. 2004. Ex-Post evaluation of the impact of an Enterprise-Based Conservation project in BRT Wildlife Sanctuary, India. In: The commons in an age of global transition: challenges, risks and opportunities, 8th Biennial Conference of the International Association for the Study of Common Property. Organised by International Association for the Study of the Commons at Oaxaca. Mexico. August 9–13, 2004

NTFP collectors substantially, by offering higher purchase prices to the LAMPS for the raw produce on the condition that it pass on the higher price to its member-harvesters. In other words, the Soligas were, with ATREE’s help, able to use the enterprise to exert pressure on their LAMPS to perform better. The overall lesson is that the net margin in value-added processing is rather low, and requires many other skills and investments (processing technology, complex financial management and record-keeping, marketing) as compared to the handling of raw produce. It should be attempted only after communities have maximised the return from the harvesting and sale of raw produce, and thereby built their capacity for collective action and learning.

lecting community. First, there can be a lot of variation in the nature and extent of NTFP dependence. When the project began, the share of NTFP in total household incomes varied from 50–60%, and in some villages non-collector families were close to 35%29. Some held salaried jobs, while others were primarily engaged in wage labour. Even amongst harvesters, many harvested only amla (a short-season activity requiring little skill) while a few specialised in other products such as honey that required sustained effort and skills. But when cooperatives such as LAMPS have all adivasis as members, pressure gets created for sharing of profits across all members, although they are generated by the harvesters. Second, the creation of cooperatives, if not grounded in broader community mobilisation, can provide ample opportunities for rent-seeking through collusion between a few enterprising members or between such members and externally appointed managers. Even the processing cooperative was not able to avoid such problems entirely—women workers never achieved managerial status, and managers themselves frequently misappropriated funds. In other words, the internal challenge of building and maintaining truly democratic and just communities comes sharply into focus after the state devolves resource tenure to the communities.

NTFP RESEARCH: WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE? ATREE’s research on NTFPs has highlighted the complex ecological dynamics of NTFP species, the importance of harvesting methods and also several exogenous factors, and the link between tenure, institutions, knowledge, and harvesting practices.

Acknowledgements This article draws upon the work and contributions of a large number of colleagues with whom we have interacted over the last 20 years, only some of whom are cited in the footnotes. Equally invaluable is the support we received from the local communities, particularly the Soligas of BRT. We were also benefitted by receiving support from various agencies, such as the state forest department, and donors, again too numerous to mention individually. Further Reading Kusters, K. and B. Belcher (eds.). 2004. Forest products, livelihoods and conservation: case studies of non-timber forest product systems: vol. I - Asia. Bogor, Indonesia: Center for International Forest Research (CIFOR). Laird, SA., RJ. McLain, and RP. Wynberg (eds.). 2010. Wild product governance: finding policies that work for non-timber forest products. London: Earthscan.

Sharing of livelihood gains The action research also points to a number of challenges in ensuring that gains from collective management of NTFPs are fairly and equitably distributed within the NTFP col-

In a context where over a 100 million people are still involved in NTFP harvest, and where the Forest Rights Act of 2006 now has the potential to give secure and substantial tenure to local communities (over 40 million ha of forest), this research can provide a valuable starting point, but will have to be expanded in many directions—across many more species, eco-regions, management practices, and social and market conditions, incorporating impending climatic changes, and including relationships between NTFP species and the broader ecosystem. It promises to be an exciting time for NTFP researchers.

Bawa et al. 1999. (see footnote 27)

Shrinking harvest: Genetic consequences and challenges for sustainable harvesting of non-timber forest products Ravikanth G. and Siddappa Setty

Megha Vishwanath 20

Non-timber forest products (NTFP) have been an important source of subsistence as well as livelihoods for many forest-dwelling and forest-fringe communities across the developing world. NTFP collection has been promoted as a win-win strategy to not only conserve biodiversity but also provide livelihood options to scores of forest-dwelling communities. There has been evidence both for, and against, the impacts of harvesting and the ecological sustainability of harvested species. Harvesting can act as a selective force and reduce the population genetic diversity, especially for species in which the reproductive parts are harvested. A debate has been raging among scientists, resource managers, as well as policy makers for decades, over which methods, and what levels of harvest, can be considered ecologically sustainable.

red-listed2. Similarly, evidence of over-exploitation is reflected in the dwindling resource status of several economically important plants such as sandal, bamboo, and rattans.

In recent years, a resurgence of interest in herbal products, and liberalised markets, has led to over-exploitation of available NTFP resources, especially of some medicinal plant species. In the past, harvesting of plant-based NTFPs to meet subsistence demand rarely resulted in species-specific over-exploitation. Now, forest dwelling and rural communities in many parts of the world are increasingly transporting harvested products to distant markets. The shift from subsistence use to commercial-scale harvest has significant implications for resource management. It results in larger volumes being harvested, at a higher frequency and intensity, which affects resource status1. In recent years, scores of species have been over-exploited rendering many of them at the risk of becoming extinct. For example, maramanjali or tree turmeric (Coscinum fenestratum), an economically important medicinal plant, has been over-exploited to such an extent that the species is now

Indiscriminate extraction could lead to reduction in population size, fragmentation, and alteration in the population structure. Reduced population size and fragmentation could lead to mating between closely related individuals, leading to inbreeding and other genetic consequences. An understanding of how NTFP harvesting modifies the genetic diversity and genetic composition can be used in conjunction with population structure to determine sustainable harvesting limits of these forest resources. Sustainable harvesting implies that the rate at which the harvesting takes place does not exceed the natural rate of regeneration in a given time period, or does not jeopardise the ability of the populations to maintain themselves. This definition does not take into account the fact that harvesting by humans deprives other fauna, which are dependent on these resources. Reduction in population size (as mentioned above) could reduce the number of pollinators and dispersal agents (higher densities attract more visitors), thereby reducing the gene flow, and thereby reducing the overall genetic diversity. Thus, harvesting of NTFP species does have subtle impacts, not only at the individual level but also at the community level, which can detract from long-term ecological sustainability. Although significant advances in assessing the ecological implications of harvest have been made, there is clearly a dearth of information available on the impacts of harvest of certain plant parts that hold great economic value, and on addressing the genetic consequences of harvesting. A decline in genetic diversity can have an adverse effect on the

1 Shaanker, RU., KN. Ganeshaiah, MN. Rao, and NA. Aravind. 2004. Ecological consequences of forest use: from genes to ecosystemâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a case study in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Wildlife Sanctuary, South India. Conservation & Society 2(2): 347â&#x20AC;&#x201C;363.

2 Thriveni, HN., RC. Sumangala, SK. Nagaraju, G. Ravikanth, R. Vasudeva, and HNR. Babu. 2014. Genetic structure and diversity of Coscinium fenestratum: a critically endangered liana of Western Ghats, India. Plant Systematics and Evolution 300(3): 403â&#x20AC;&#x201C;413.

ability of a species to survive, and this could have ramifications for other species that are components of the ecosystem. In the last 2 decades, ATREE, along with researchers from University of Agricultural Sciences, Bengaluru, have been involved in understanding the impact of harvest on the genetic structure of NTFP species. We have been working with communities in developing sustainable methods of harvest, and examining the impacts of NTFP harvest on population structure, regeneration, genetic diversity, and evolutionary processes. This chapter highlights issues related to the potential genetic and evolutionary impacts of NTFP harvest. We discuss approaches for conservation of genetic resources of NTFP species that would not only ensure the survival of the focal species and maintain ecosystem integrity and stability, but also provide livelihoods to the dependent forest-dwelling and rural communities.

POTENTIAL GENETIC AND EVOLUTIONARY IMPACTS OF NTFP HARVEST Indiscriminate harvest has been widely reported to reduce the effective population size (i.e., the number of reproductive individuals that contribute to the next generation), as well as genetic variability, in a number of NTFP species3. Genetic diversity is generally assumed to be the basis for adaptation of a species, and for providing the population the ability to respond to environmental stresses. Most often, NTFP harvesting involves removal of reproductive structures such as fruits or seeds, which can have a direct impact on the

regeneration of the species. Even harvesting of non-reproductive parts such as leaves, resins, or stems, does affect the physiology, growth, reproduction, and survival of the individual, besides exposing the individual to pests and diseases. The impacts are severe if the entire plant, roots, bulbs, or the reproductive parts such as the immature fruits, seeds, or the flowers, are harvested. Threats to the NTFP species would increase further in the near future due to increased demand for these products, change in land-use patterns, and other factors such as the spread of invasive species. Thus, harvesting of NTFPs and the accompanying practices can affect genetic diversity, recruitment, and overall population structure of these species. Tolerance to harvest varies according to life history (of the species) and the part of the plant that is harvested. The most direct ecological consequence of harvesting is alteration in the rates of survival, growth, and regeneration of harvested individuals. Changes in these vital rates can, in turn, affect the structure and dynamics of populations. For example, harvesting amla or Indian gooseberry (Phyllanthus emblica) fruits, may have a long-term effect on populations,

Ravikanth, G., MN. Rao, KN. Ganeshaiah, and RU. Shaanker. 2009. Genetic diversity of NTFP species: issues and implications. In: Non-timber forest products conservation, management and policies (eds. Shaanker, RU., AJ. Hiremath, GC. Joseph, and ND. Rai) Pp. 53-64. Bengaluru: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and Environment, and Forestry Research Support Program for Asia and the Pacific, Food and Agriculture Organization, Bangkok.

Fruits of Phyllanthus emblica, also known as nelli (Kannada) or amla (Hindi), are extensively harvested from Southern India. (Photo: G. Ravikanth) 22

either because of the effect on seedling recruitment, or because fruit collection involves branch pruning or sometimes tree felling. Heavy collection of fruits of this species, and that of tare or bahera (Terminalia bellerica), has resulted in lower recruitment and genetic differentiation (change in the genetic composition of individuals) of the populations, possibly due to selective harvesting of large-sized fruits. Selective harvesting from individuals bearing large-sized fruits over time has led to regeneration of the species largely from trees that were less harvested, and those that bore either small or irregular-shaped fruits. The genetic impacts of NTFP harvesting were considered quite low and thus were not seriously considered in the management of NTFP species. However, in recent years there are numerous studies that have recognised that harvesting can have effects at several levels, including the genetic variability and genetic structure of the species. Genetic diversity could be lost through a host of processes consequent to harvesting the populations. Over time, the small incremental changes could have a cascading effect and might result in changing the original genetic configuration of populations. The genetic differentiation of the populations of species subjected to harvesting could be either due to 1) directional selection of populations due to harvesting pressures (selective harvesting or non-random harvesting, e.g., only large sized fruits as in case of amla); and/or 2) a reduced population size (due to harvesting) leading to less number of individuals available for mating leading to inbreeding (as mentioned above). Harvesting whole individuals can lead to the loss of genetic diversity through genetic drift (due to chance disappearance of a particu23

lar gene or genes, resulting in changing the frequency of alleles in the population, usually due to a reduction in population size), while harvesting the reproductive parts, such as fruits or seeds, could do so by interrupting gene flow by disrupting pollination and dispersal. For example, harvesting whole trees, as in the case of a medicinally important tree durvasane mara or â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;stinking plantâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (Nothapodytes nimmoniana), has not only led to loss of private alleles, but has also reduced the overall genetic variability of the populations4. In the case of Himatanthus drasticus, a tree of the Brazilian savanna, which is highly exploited for its medicinal latex, the seedling allelic richness (a measure of genetic variability) was significantly lower in the high-harvested populations, indicating that allelic losses that may be associated with the exploitation of bark and latex. In case of American ginseng (Panax quinquefolius), where the roots have been harvested for more than 250 4 Shivaprakash, KN, BT. Ramesha, RU Shaanker, S. Dayanandan, and G. Ravikanth. 2014. Genetic structure, diversity and long-term viability of a medicinal plant, Nothapodytes nimmoniana Graham. (Icacinaceae), in protected and non-protected areas in the Western Ghats biodiversity hotspot. PLoS ONE 9(12): e112769.

years, there was a significant reduction in the average expected heterozygosity (measure of genetic diversity of a population) in the harvested populations compared to the non-harvested populations. Further, the levels of genetic diversity in the juveniles were less compared to the adults, and the ageclass structure also shifted towards smaller, non-reproductive plants. These studies point to the necessity of maintaining harvesting intensities that least distort the original genetic variability and structure. While studies have documented that demography, genetic diversity, and several others parameters are affected by various NTFP harvesting practices, there has been a lack of clear signals on the extent of harvesting that can be considered as sustainable. Vital rate of growth and regeneration of NTFP may be signiﬁcantly affected by differences in harvest techniques. These include timing of harvest, the part of the plant that is harvested, frequency of harvest, size of individuals harvested, and intensity of harvest.

APPROACHES FOR CONSERVATION OF NTFP TREE SPECIES Clearly, while studies have shown a strong relationship between the extent of harvesting on the genetic structure of harvested populations, there have been no studies that have suggested genetically friendly harvesting methods. However, given the sheer number of NTFP species harvested, the plant parts harvested, and the variation in resource production levels, it is difficult to suggest one uniform method to sustainably harvest NTFP resources. Further, each species can have varying response to harvesting, and the recovery period is dependent on varying environmental factors. Thus, approaches to conserve NTFP species should take into account 1) the needs of the forest-dependent communities; 2) the NTFP species survival and ecosystem integrity; and finally 3) the need and ease of monitoring the populations (both demographic as well as genetic monitoring). Below we discuss genetically friendly management options that could be implemented for sustainable harvest of NTFP species: identification of genetic hotspots, gene banks, and NTFP harvesting plans. Conservation and utilisation of NTFP species on a long-term basis requires understanding of the existing distribution of genetic diversity of the species, and then, assessment of threats to the genetic variability either due to harvesting, or due to other anthropogen-

Figure 1. A schematic depicting the Forest Gene Bank Model. (Adapted from Uma Shaanker et al 2002) 5 ic factors. For a number of NTFP species as well as medicinal plants, such as bamboos, rattans, wild nutmeg, amla, etc., the distributions of genetic diversity have been mapped using biochemical and molecular tools, and hotspots of genetic diversity have been identified for the first time. In fact, for many species, genetic diversity maps have been developed that provide spatial distributions of genetic diversity of the species. This provides a geographical perspective on the genetic resources of the species in question and is crucial for making informed decisions for the conservation and management of the genetic resources of these NTFP species. Similarly, the impacts of disturbance to the genetic resources of the NTFP species have also been assessed. For a number of species, we have addressed the loss of genetic variability and attempts have been made to genetically improve such populations. Efforts such as these will serve to identify the valuable genetic resources of these NTFP species and also pave the way for utilisation. To ensure that NTFP species are not deprived of their genetic arsenal, one could adopt a

‘genetically friendly’ method by maintaining NTFP gene bank reserves. This approach is like the Forest Gene Bank5 and serves as a repository of genes to ensure that adequate genetic variability is conserved (Figure 1). The forest gene bank approach would involve designating some areas with adequate populations as no-go areas. Ideally, over time these areas could be enriched with genetically unique individuals so as to maintain a repository of genes. By virtue of such enrichment, these forest gene banks could facilitate the maintenance of the full allelic set of the species. Besides that, the gene bank also facilitates continuous interaction between and among the different alleles maintained at these banks, enabling genetic diversity to evolve in response to local selection pressures. Sustainable NTFP harvesting requires keeping track of the ecological health of the harvest5 Shaanker, RU., KN. Ganeshaiah, MN Rao, and G. Ravikanth. 2002. Forest gene banks – a new integrated approach for the conservation of forest tree genetic resources. In: Managing plant genetic resources (eds. Engels, JMM., AHD. Brown, and MT. Jackson) Pp. 229–235. Oxon, UK: CABI Publishing.

ed populations at both the individual, as well as the population, level. A key challenge in maintaining the health of the populations is to ensure their adequate regeneration. One of the strategies of ensuring adequate regeneration (especially when reproductive parts are harvested) is to include systematic rotations, or ensuring that some percent of the harvest is reduced. This could be accomplished by a number of ways. One is by harvesting only low hanging fruits, and another is harvesting on a systematic rotation period or in alternate years. However, this is difficult to implement unless communities are provided information and the necessary knowledge about the usefulness of such rotations. In the case of harvest of non-reproductive parts, collections should be restricted to only mature individuals, and individuals should be harvested once every few years. For example, in the case where bark is harvested, such as

cinnamon or asoka (Saraca asoca), studies have shown that at least 3–4 years is required for the bark to heal, and repeated harvesting could endanger the survival of individuals.

GOING FORWARD Genetic studies have clearly shown that harvesting of NTFP species (especially the reproductive parts of plants) has impacts on the genetic structure in the long run. Some of these impacts could be ameliorated through harvest rotations and by employing harvest friendly methods. Establishing gene banks could be another option to conserve the genetic resources of these NTFP species. These options should be incorporated into NTFP harvest plans even when studies to demonstrate genetic effects cannot be carried out. Simultaneously, efforts such as large-scale cultivation and domestication of over-exploited species should be encouraged to meet the demand for NTFPs.

Sustainable management of NTFP resources requires firm, mutually agreed upon, and enforceable regulations among indigenous communities, civil society institutions, and the Forest Department. The approaches suggested here for the conservation of genetic resources of NTFP species re-emphasises the need to re-evaluate existing management approaches. What may be most warranted in the present scenario is regulation of NTFP harvest, backed with appropriate policies for monitoring and management. These approaches would not only help in conserving the genetic diversity of the NTFP species but would also ensure a balance between local livelihoods and ecological sustainability.

Terminalia bellarica, or tare (Kannada) or bahera (Hindi) is an important NTFP species whose fruits are used for various Ayurvedic preparations, including Triphala. (Photo: G. Ravikanth)

Acknowledgements The part of the work reported here has been carried out by the authors with a number of collaborators, especially with R. Uma Shaanker and K.N. Ganeshaiah from UAS, Bengaluru, and the Soliga communities in BRT and the Male Mahadeshwara hills (MM Hills). The work was supported by grants from USAID (No. AID-386 A- 14-00011) and from the Department of Biotechnology, New Delhi. The authors also acknowledge the support received from various agencies, including the Soliga Abhivrudhi Sanga, Karnataka Forest Department, VGKK and LAMPS society. Further reading Baldauf, C., M. Ciampi-Guillardi, FAM. Santos, AP. Souza, and AM. Sebbenn. 2013. Tapping latex and alleles? the impacts of latex and bark harvesting on the genetic diversity of Himatanthus drasticus (Apocynaceae). Forest Ecology and Management 310: 434–441.

Excessive harvesting of resin by damaging the bark can adversely affect the reproductive output of Boswellia serrata, also known as dupada mara (Kannada) or salai (Hindi). (Photo: G. Ravikanth) 26

Cruse-Sanders, JM., and JL. Hamrick. 2004. Genetic diversity in harvested and protected populations of wild American ginseng, Panax quinquefolius L. (Araliaceae). American Journal of Botany 91(4) 540–548. Shahabuddin, G. and S. Prasad. 2004. Assessing ecological sustainability of non-timber forest produce extraction: the Indian scenario. Conservation and Society 2(2): 235–250. Stanley, D., R. Voeks, and L. Short. 2012. Is non-timber forest product harvest sustainable in the less developed world? A systematic review of the recent economic and ecological literature. Ethnobiology and Conservation 1(9): 1–39. Ticktin, T. 2004. The ecological implications of harvesting non-timber forest products. Journal of Applied Ecology 41(1): 11–21.

A LONG VOYAGE

Tryst with Lantana camara* R. Uma Shaanker and Gladwin Joseph

The East India Company (EIC) is perhaps the single largest company in the world that can claim the distinction of moving the largest number of plant species across continents, at a time when voyages were relatively few and far between. In one such tranche, the EIC transported some 300 plant species, mostly from the Caribbean Islands and Brazil, via Europe, to the first botanical garden in Calcutta (now Kolkata), in India. The shipment was at the instance of the Court of Directors of the EIC who implored the Agricultural and Horticultural Society of India to naturalize species, many of them useful, both for food and ornamental purposes. Among the plants was Lantana camara (hereafter, lantana). Like many of its co-passengers, it travelled from the New World to Europe in the late 1660s. After a relatively long transit of nearly a century in different European botanical gardens, including Kew Gardens in London, it resumed its journey to India, arriving in 18071. It was probably transported for its perceived medicinal and ornamental values. The plant can be typically classified as a shrub, but often attains alarming proportions, growing into a woody thick-stemmed shrub, bearing innumerable brightly colored flowers. The flowers, with their copious nectar, attract pollinators, especially butterflies. The berry-like fruits of the plant are dispersed by birds and mammals. The plants produce a distinct odour, most likely attributed to some terpenes that deter insects. The plants are hardy, and easily coppice even after being destroyed by fire or clipped manually.

on the Indian sub-continent, lantana followed suit, finding its way into all the botanical gardens located in major British cantonments in the country, thanks to the efforts of British horticulturists. Trimmed of its otherwise unruly growth, the plant served as a perfect ornamental and hedge plant.

THE DELUGE A hundred years into its stay in India, and naturalized, lantana began to explore the neighborhoods of the British cantonments, unobtrusively but steadily, as the British were preoccupied with Indiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s independence movements. It began to be noticed far beyond the cantonments, in open lands, agricultural field, plantations, and in forests. Freed from pruning, the plant lay bare its enormous ability to grow and reproduce, leading to an explosion of its population. Beginning in the last century (early 1900s), the plant laid siege to most of the open landscapes across the length and breadth of the country. In its random march it usurped whole swathes of native vegetation, jeopardized habitats of wildlife, choked forest trails, and had an impact on ecosystem services. Today, except in parts of the Himalayas, the plant occurs everywhere. Thanks to this exceptional spread, not only in India but also in many

Between, 1800 and 1900, the period during which the EIC was actively expanding its hold * The article is dedicated to the memory of the late Dr. Ramesh Kannan, whose untiring work at ATREE built a vibrant research-driven programme around lantana that innovatively bridged conservation concerns with livelihood needs of the Soligas of Malai Mahadeswara Hills of Karnataka, India.

Kannan, R., CM. Shackleton, and R. Uma Shaanker. 2013. Reconstructing the history of introduction and spread of the invasive species, Lantana, at three spatial scales in India. Biological Invasions 15(6):1287â&#x20AC;&#x201C;1302.

A typical inflorescence of Lantana camara, which was brought to India for its ornamental value; lantana has today taken over large sections of forested and non-forested areas. (Photo: Aditya Madhav/Wikimedia)

other parts of the world where it was similarly introduced, lantana is now regarded as one of the top 10 invasive species in the world. In the face of its marauding growth, a number of efforts, both in India and elsewhere, have been made to stop the spread of lantana. However, all methods, including physical, chemical, biological, and manual, have borne little success. The vain attempts to contain its spread have been thwarted by the sheer scale of its spread, and the exorbitant costs entailed. Today the species covers millions of hectares in the country, an area that is non-trivial for any cost-effective control.

WHEN YOU CANNOT BREAK SOMETHING, AT LEAST BEND IT! As an organization concerned with biodiversity conservation, ATREE was naturally interested in addressing the consequence of the spread of lantana on biodiversity and its attendant ecosystem services. What could ATREE do, knowing only too well that the control of the species was not a practical proposition? Several chance observations made by Ramesh Kannan, then a Research Associate at ATREE, during his field trips, articulated our first thoughts on what would later become a major programme on lantana at ATREE. Ramesh noted that several communities in South India, especially in Chittoor, in Andhra Pradesh, and in Natham, in Tamil Nadu, and in a few other places, had for long been using lantana for making an assortment of articles, ranging from chicken pens to baskets for tomatoes. Though crude, they seemed to serve their functions quite well. Back from his field trip, Ramesh argued that if lantana could be used to make baskets, might it also be used to make other products, and perhaps even offer a substitute to the scarce bamboo resources? If it could, then we would have successfully addressed an important issue concerning the conservation of the scarce

Shreyas R. Krishnan

bamboo resources in the forests, without jeopardizing the livelihoods of the artisans who were traditionally dependent on these resources. Also, if it were demonstrated that lantana could indeed substitute for bamboo, it might open up a window of opportunity for many forest dwelling communities, not least the bamboo artisans, the majority of whom have no land tenure, and are dependent on daily wages or the collection of non-timber forest products for their subsistence. An intrinsic advantage, furthermore, in using lantana as opposed to bamboo, is the fact that it is a zero-investment resource being such an abundantly available ‘weed’. In theory, one could remove any amount of lantana from the forests, add value, and generate much-needed cash income. This was clearly not possible with bamboo. Thus was born a construct, that if we cannot break lantana, we may at least try to bend it! And bend it we did!

alien species and not promote their use or cultivation (italics ours). The Global Invasive Species Programme (GISP), a multi-institutional agency, was set up to precisely discharge this function by member countries. In other words, it made perfect sense for the funding agency to oppose our idea and even mock us at our naivety, or may we say, even stupidity. One of the questions most frequently asked by funding agencies, was: “Aren’t you actually encouraging the spread of an invasive species that the entire world wants to get rid of?” On reflecting, we are not sure what worked and how it worked for us. But one of our common defenses was, does it matter if we promote its utilization, knowing well that the world has given up on this invasive species? If such promotion can rescue human livelihoods that are threatened by dwindling forest resources, surely there must be some merit in our proposal. And so on. In the end our voice and arguments prevailed and we won our first grant. Thus began our tryst with lantana.

FROM BASKETS TO FURNITURE

Setting up base at Malai Mahadeshwara Hills (MM Hills), now Malai Mahadeshwara Wildlife Sanctuary, Karnataka, Ramesh Kannan quickly assembled a field unit with four main objectives, namely: a) to train local artisans, who hitherto had been using only bamboo, in the use of lantana stems; b) to design products from lantana stems; c) to develop market linkages with both rural and regional markets; and d) to set up a lantana craft cooperative.

With a blueprint in hand, we began to explore funding opportunities. Our first call was at the Development Market Place, World Bank, Washington D.C. No sooner had we started defending our idea of promoting the use of lantana at the Market Place, that we realized we were walking on a very slippery path— that of defending something that sounded quite heretical at that time. For example, the Convention on Biological Diversity stipulates that all signatory countries, including India, identify, control, and eradicate all invasive

Knowing that HESCO, an NGO based out of Dehradun in the foothills of Himalayas, was already skilled in converting lantana stems into furniture, Ramesh travelled to Dehradun along with over 12 artisans from MM Hills. These early trainees were to later become master lantana-craftsmen and champion trainers, and to this day they continue to train artisans in other parts of India in the art of lantana craftsmanship. The training was subsidized by various grants, and in a relatively short period of 4–6 years, over 350

people were equipped with the basic skills required to convert lantana into useful products such as baskets, chairs, tables, and the like. The training created palpable enthusiasm amongst the local villagers, each vying with the other to learn the new art. Very soon, it became clear that here was a craft that could stay with the community so long as some backend support was provided. An important catalyst for people’s enthusiasm lay in the market-linkages that were facilitated by Ramesh. Hailing from a business family, he knew well that the market is key to economic development. He explored markets in nearby cities such as Mettur, Kollegal, Mysuru, and Bengaluru. He would personally take samples to furniture retailers, and explain to them at length the virtues of the rustic chairs, tables, and various other products made from lantana. Priced at a third of the cost of comparable rattan products, soon lantana began to be accepted in markets. Artisans now not only were able to make their craft, but sell it too, for profit. The commodity chain of this cottage industry was now getting well oiled. At one end of the chain were the lantana suppliers, mostly women, who would bring in head loads of lantana stems from the forest. These would then be graded into different girth categories to feed

Lantana thicket. Notice the nearly impenetrable wall of lantana stems. This is very characteristic of the growth of lantana in most of India’s national parks and sanctuaries. In this picture the lantana was over 3 metres high. (Photo: Ananda Siddhartha) 31

and had no access to social safety. Dressed in tatters, doing menial jobs, her next meal would be as uncertain as was her previous one. When we arrived in Ponnachi, she volunteered to be trained to work with lantana, and today is a master trainer. No longer is she a victim of her stars. On the contrary, she runs a decent lantana product business, earning much more than a subsistence income—her self-esteem and dignity in society. She symbolizes the transformation that lantana craft brought to people in her village.

Men at work making lantana furniture in Malai Mahadeshwara Hills, Karnataka. (Photo: RP.Harisha) into different products. The stems would then be processed, one last step before actually being used to make the products. Unlike bamboo, which is naturally pliable, lantana stems are relatively rigid, heavy, and less pliable, but durable, and insect- and pest-resistant. An essential step before they could be used was to debark the stems, to reveal the whitish inner wood. Women would scrape away the bark using knives or sickles. This was very time consuming and was found to be a critical rate-limiting step in developing products. As we were grappling with this problem, quite fortuitously, ATREE received a couple of young French interns who were trained in wood-processing technologies. The interns proposed an ingenious way of getting rid of lantana bark. The trick lay in immersing lantana stems in hot water for 30 minutes to an hour. The ‘cooked’ stems were now ready to be de-barked. All it required was to peel the bark off the stem, just as one would the skin of a potato. A spin-off of this method was that the stems became more pliable, nearly as much as those of bamboo, and

even rattans. This small trick allowed us to design newer products that artisans could not have done earlier. Engaging with the best of designers, trained at the National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, over 60 different products were designed and produced. Lantana also began to be used to make the famed Channapatna toys. A lathe was installed and artisans were trained to turn lantana wood into beautiful figurines.

BENDING A ‘WEED’ AND TRANSFORMING LIVELIHOODS As we learned to ‘bend’ the invasive lantana to good use, rather than trying to ‘break’ it, we realized we could significantly impact livelihoods, one family at a time. While lantana was being transformed into value-added products, so were the lives of the people working on it. We could relate here a number of statistics, but what stands out most poignantly is the story of a woman in Ponnachi village. Before lantana entered her life, she was leading a very frugal existence, as many others still do in India. She was widowed without children 32

Over the period that ATREE was engaged in the project, the artisans saw a three- to fivefold increase in their annual cash income. The number of person-days employed increased from about 5 to 9 months. The popularity of the lantana craft and enterprise can be gauged by the fact that despite a number of government initiatives such as under the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, the public food distribution system, and agriculture labour, lantana craft work has sustained and people have continued to produce products from lantana over the past one and a half decades. Currently, in MM Hills alone, the Soliga community has two Lantana Craft Centres working independently, and about 25 Soliga artisans (10% of people in the two villages) working on lantana crafts and earning an average of Rs.7000/- per month. While the gross income of households using lantana (user) and those not using (non-users) were similar, lantana user groups substituted their loss of income from forest resources (7 %) with income from lantana (46 %)2. An invasive species that was otherwise regarded as a nuisance had now become the centre of the household economy. In less than 5 years, the cash flow could be seen to 2 Kannan, R, CM. Shackleton, and R. Uma Shaanker. 2014. Invasive alien species as drivers in socio-ecological systems: local adaptations towards use of lantana in Southern India. Environment, Development and Sustainability 16(3): 649–669.

transform houses, with people gaining access to a more comfortable lifestyle, including access to television sets, mobiles, and so on. Yet again, besides these material possessions, was the fact that many of the families involved with lantana began to send their children to school, a sure way out of the cycle of poverty that they had been caught in.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED After nearly a decade of successfully working with communities in promoting the use of lantana, we were at a crossroads—to decide whether or not to continue with the programme. The project, funded serially by half-a-dozen national and international funding agencies over the decade, seemed to have lived up to its promises. We had in place a proof-of-principle in promoting the use of a zero-investment resource. Dependence on bamboo over the decade in the sites that we were working on had dwindled, leading to its restoration. People’s economy grew. Academically, a point had been made: that it is possible to break the paradigm that invasive species are beyond use. In fact, the work lead to a significant change in paradigm—from an exclusive strategy of only eradicating, to an inclusive management strategy, even if it meant promoting the use of the invasive species3. Much ground had been covered. What next? Clearly, ATREE did not want to be seen as running the lantana enterprise. ATREE was not a business incubator. It was decided, that ATREE should now withdraw from actively promoting the business end of the work, to merely engaging with training and facilitation at newer sites, replicating the model, both in space and time. Requests for advice were 3 Uma Shaanker, R., G. Joseph, Aravind NA., R. Kannan, and K.N. Ganeshaiah. 2010. Invasive plants in tropical human-dominated landscapes: need for an inclusive management strategy. In: Bioinvasions and globalization: ecology, economics, management and policy (eds Perrings, C., H. Mooney and M. Williamson). Pp. 202-219. London: Oxford University Press.

received from several states within the country, and from Sri Lanka and Madagascar, and were acted upon. ATREE continues to provide guidance and plans, based on its success. As for the communities, a good forethought of the programme was the establishment of registered Lantana Craft Cooperatives (LCC). This knitted the artisans into a group that could take up their interests. The LCC gave the artisans and their work an identity. Licenses were issued to members of the LCC by the local forest departments to enter the forest and collect Lantana stems. The LCC was recognized by TRIFED, an organization that caters to tribal art and culture. Subsidized representation of lantana work at local, regional, and national exhibitions were extended to LCC. In short, the communities now were on their own, from collection, to making the products, to marketing them.

REFLECTIONS Over two centuries ago, the American poet and philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson (18031892) quipped, “What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not been discovered.” Our story on the transformation of lantana seems to echo this quip to the letter. From fighting established ideologies that dispelled the notion of using an invasive weed, to fighting our way through to transform the weed to reveal its virtues, in reflection, seems to have been a long haul. Ramesh Kannan’s perseverance, endless negotiations with foresters who would rather guard the weed than allow its removal4, chance observations of an impoverished hamlet in Chittoor that was using lantana sticks to make pens for their chicken, or a reasonably progressive farming community at Natham, near Madurai, using lantana baskets for packing tomatoes, and the pioneering efforts of HESCO, in faraway Dehradun in 4

Kannan, R., CM. Shackleton, and R. Uma Shaanker. 2013. Playing with the forest: invasive alien plants, policy and protected areas in India. Current Science, 104(9): 1159-1165.

the foothills of the Himalayas, of converting lantana sticks to chairs, all gravitated into a major effort at ATREE. Lantana had come of age, from the impenetrable thicket that it still is in the forests, to the rustic yet elegant table at which we write this article. Besides approving Emerson’s quip, the story of lantana at ATREE has helped lay a strong proof-of-principle that, in time, any resource, in this case an invasive species, can be allowed to crank and creak. Whether this by itself is sufficient to manage the invasive is a debatable proposition. However, as in the case of any calamity of gargantuan proportion, the choice is between doing nothing and doing something, even if doing that something, is not going to lower the scale of the calamity. The transformation of lantana has probably not dented even a tiny bit the lantana-scapes of our forests and landscapes. But, it has unequivocally transformed the life-scapes of people who, even in the 21st century, have limited recourse to cash income, and diminishing access to forests that sustain them. Acknowledgement The work reported here has been shaped by interactions with a large number of colleagues, fellow scientists across the world, students, and of course the artisans in far flung regions in India and abroad. We would like to thank all of them for taking time off and helping us in this voyage. The captain of the voyage, Dr. Ramesh Kannan, unfortunately is not with us anymore. To him and his family, we owe our heartfelt thanks and gratitude; but for Ramesh’s enthusiasm, we doubt if this story would ever have seen the light of day. We also acknowledge all funding agencies, Department of Biotechnology, Government of India, New Delhi; The Development Market Place, World Bank, Washington; Blumoon Foundation, USA; The Rainforest Concern, UK; Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa; and The Asia Pacific Federation of Environment and Development, 34

In memory of our friend and colleague, Ramesh Kannan (1976-2014) Ramesh Kannan will be remembered for many reasons, but possibly most of all for his innate courtesy, immense generosity and unflappable demeanor. He significantly contributed to ATREE in so many ways. He started by managing ATREE’s library database and web-based outreach activities, and went on to then take charge of the livelihoods and conservation programme at MM Hills. He then obtained a PhD in Environmental Science from Rhodes University, South Africa. He was deeply driven by a desire to learn, both from literature, and Ramesh Kannan explaining the lantana craft his own immersion in the field amongst local at one of the interaction meetings. communities. During his PhD he was a Senior (Photo credit: Hillary Crabb) Research Associate at ATREE, and a principal investigator on many projects, as well as the coordinator for the MM Hills Community-based Conservation Centre. It was his unique capacity to work across the academy-field divide, and across the research-action divide, shaped at ATREE, that made him a model of a ‘thinking practitioner’ par excellence. He, with other colleagues, and Soliga master craftsmen, shaped the lantana-craft phenomenon that developed in MM hills and spread to various other locations in South India. He worked at it for almost a decade, travelling and visiting so many people, and locations, trying this, trying that, experimenting, cajoling, encouraging, leading, that he became synonymous with the lantana phenomenon! This work won several international and national awards, but we are sure more important to him than awards was the satisfaction of making a difference in people’s lives. Ramesh was to everyone who knew him, an especially committed researcher and human being. He was deeply committed to everything he did, whether to his family, to his institution, to his friends, or to understanding what made lantana tick. As one of his friends at ATREE said, he accomplished a lifetime’s work in a short span of 10 years!

Japan, for generously supporting the work at different stages of its development.

agement of Lantana camara L. in Australia, India and South Africa. PLoS ONE, 7(3): e32407.

Further Reading

Kannan, R., CM. Shackleton, S. Krishnan, and R. Uma Shaanker. 2016. Can local use assist in controlling invasive alien species in tropical forests? The case of Lantana camara in southern India. Forest Ecology and Management 376: 166-173.

Bhagwat SA., E. Breman, T. Thekaekara, TF. Thornton, and KJ. Willis. 2012. A battle lost? Report on two centuries of invasion and man-

A LONG VOYAGE On February 2014, the Government of India approved the National Mission for Sustaining the Himalayan Ecosystem, under the National Action Plan on Climate Change. The Mission was to continuously assess the health of Himalayan ecosystems to enable policy formulation. These policy measures, it was envisioned, would sustain ecological resilience and ensure continued provisioning of key ecosystem services. The Millennium Ecosystems Assessment (MEA) report of 2005 had brought the ecosystem services concept into mainstream discussion. Like natural historians and ecologists, who developed species taxonomy, the MEA team introduced taxonomies of function. Thus, a forest’s function of storing and letting-off water became a ‘regulating service’, and nurturing edible leaf and fruit became a ‘provisioning service’. Forests and grasslands provisioned spatial context for recreation, and thus became providers of a ‘cultural service’. Such services, for the MEA, are benefits that humans experience.

Beyond trekker platitudes: How forests and farmers fare in an Eastern Himalayan forest edge Siddhartha Krishnan, Soubadra Devy M., Sarala Khaling and Jagdish Krishnaswamy

Aditya Bharadwaj 36

Conventional wellbeing assessments, conducted by ecologists and economists as part of the ecosystems services framework, either quantify household dependence on services in narrow income terms, or invoke more multidimensional criteria and assess, say, how households derive housing and health benefits from the surrounding ecosystem. Typically, such wellbeing parameters, or proxies, are assigned values and ranked. A quantitative sense of wellbeing is arrived at, especially by community development practitioners who identify needs felt by people, and rank them. If the initiative is premised upon sustainability, such needs are assessed in terms of whether a forest ecosystem can service such needs without compromising their availability to future generations. But there is scope for a more qualitative and philosophical sense of wellbeing to be arrived at, in relation to ecosystem services—one that sees the fulfilment of needs as 37

important, but nevertheless inadequate when it comes to questions of freedom to pursue what one values in terms of wellbeing or sustainability. The MEA, in fact, does provide the space for this aspect to be incorporated. Here are some scientifically inclusive and interdisciplinary lines from the report: “An assessment’s usefulness to different stakeholders will also depend on the composition of the scientific community that conducts it.” Around the time the National Mission was approved, we were a team of ecologists, and an environmental sociologist, conducting ecological and social assessments of agro-pastoral and forest ecosystems services and wellbeing in the Sikkim and Darjeeling Himalayas. We agreed to not reduce such an incredibly diverse experience as wellbeing to a singular, though substantial, metric of income. As to how we went about doing so, we need to introduce the reader to three other people who have constantly accompanied us to our field sites—well, intellectually, if not physically! One is the Noble laureate, Amartya Sen, the other the philosopher, Martha Nussbaum, and the third, Breena Holland, a political scientist. Sen’s work on ‘Capabilities’ has influenced research on differentiated capacities of individuals, households, and communities to respond to environmental change. Sen’s approach is fundamentally about human freedoms and capabilities. It is about human functioning, or what each person is able to ‘do’ and ‘be’, rather than being merely ‘passive need recipients’. But Sen did not elaborate capabilities. Nussbaum listed 10 core capabilities that made Sen’s work environmentally relevant. Her list ranged from health and nourishment, to imagination and thought, and control over one’s material and political environment. ‘Other species’, or living with concern for, and in relation with, animals, plants and nature, was her very environmental capability, and a biocentric one at that. Holland’s was a further environmental extension of Nussbaum’s work. More specifically, hers was an anthropocen-

tric revision of Nussbaum’s ‘environmental capability’. Holland elaborated the utility of this environmental capability to humans. She elevated it to a status of a ‘meta capability’ or a ‘sustainable ecological capacity’ that enables all of Nussbaum’s other listed capabilities. What possessing or enjoying this environmental capability means for a Himalayan household is, that it lives under certain ecological conditions that provision environmental services, which enable the household’s range of other capabilities. Though the capabilities approach is useful as a comparative life quality assessment, we would like to share case studies that combine the ecosystems services and capabilities frameworks. Our Eastern Himalayan assessments were across two landscapes, the Singalila National Park and the Senchel Wildlife Sanctuary. We discuss the story of Gorkhey, a Darjeeling village in the buffer of the Singalila National Park, bordering Nepal and Sikkim. Gorkhey is a farming community that borders the Singalila National Park, and its use of, and dependence on, the forest makes the ascertaining of services-wellbeing linkages more discernible. In relation to Singalila’s ecological conditions, we can consider Gorkhey households’ ‘environmental capability’ as comprising nutrition, fuel wood, and water provisioning services. In addition, we specifically assess three other capabilities. These include, ‘bodily health’ capability (being adequately nourished); ‘practical reason’ capability (the ability to ‘form a conception of the good and to engage in critical reflection about the planning of one’s life’); and ‘affiliation’ (being able to live with, and show concern towards others in the community). These three ‘non-environmental’ capabilities, we demonstrate, do not just depend on Singalila’s ‘healthy’ and robust ecosystem servicing, but also emerge as adaptive abilities to service disruptions. For instance, the policy decision to notify Singalila as a ‘wildlife sanctuary’ in 1986 curtailed resource enti-

tlements. And so, what are the conservation and wellbeing prospects in Gorkhey? Have its farming folk been able to exercise their ‘bodily health’ capabilities in relation to food provisioned from Singalila? Or more broadly, in terms of functioning, what have Gorkhey’s households been able to do with water provisioned from Singalila? How does Singalila fare as an energy and water source? Before we locate Gorkhey in the Eastern Himalayan landscape, and then discuss this small village’s wellbeing, we must inform the reader of one other team decision. In keeping with the ‘freedom’ emphasis of the capability approach, which treats people as agents rather than just needy folk, and also agreeing with Holland’s point that ecosystems do not have opportunity sets from which they can make choices, we had agreed that we would treat services as co-produced. Services are of instrumental importance to communities; an ecosystem’s services form part of a household’s opportunity set—things they can afford, not some sentient, human-like property of the ecosystem.

FAMED SINGALILA AND BEAUTIFUL GORKHEY From 300 m at the base, the Darjeeling district’s elevation reaches an altitude of 3,660 m at Sandakphu on the Singalila ridge. Darjeeling’s large altitudinal range ensures climatic variability and is thus responsible for its diverse flora and fauna. This is ‘normal’ climate change so to speak, where temperature, precipitation, and humidity vary quickly across geography, and foster diverse vegetation ranging from the tropical, to temperate, to sub-alpine, and alpine. J.D. Hooker, an early and pioneering botanist, noted, in 1854, how sub-alpine and alpine Darjeeling were floristically opulent, with many a species being endemic. Flora in the Singalila National Park serves as evidence. Located on Darjeeling’s northwest boundary, Singalila borders Nepal to its west, and Sikkim to its north. 38

NUTRITION, ENERGY AND WATER

Singalila is a relatively small park of 78.60 km2 with a 2,200 to 3,660 m elevation range. At sub-alpine levels, the park’s flora includes rhododendrons and coniferous species. The famed Singalila ridge, and its slopes, are a medley of bamboo, oak, magnolia, hemlock, silver fir, and rhododendron forests.

Dietary switches and nutritional quandary

Phalut and Sandakphu are two popular summits on the Singalila ridge. Indian and international tourists avail the services of organised treks to the ridge. Gorkhey is now a much-patronised trek-initiating point. ‘Green Gorkhey’, ‘beautiful village’, ‘a lesser known beauty’ are some typical tourist platitudes in blogs and websites. But what function or utility lies beneath the beauty? Or what services do the forests offer besides these recreational services? Are these services singular in their conception and execution, or are they a joint venture? And how do Gorkhey folk, whose land-use history has resulted in such beauty, cope with, and adapt to, ecosystem changes? 39

A household’s breakfast and dinner is typically a combination of carbohydrates like maize, rice and potato; proteins, specifically dal; and ferns and other leafy greens. Gorkhey families grow their carbohydrate sources, earlier maize, but today rice. Rice is bought from Jorethang, a Sikkim village that is 43 km away. Maize, besides being a carbohydrate source, was also a cash source, but has now become very vulnerable to crop raids by boars. Moreover, its labour-intensive nature, along with shifts in generational dietary preference, have contributed to maize’s displacement as the chief carbohydrate source. Today, potato is the chief starch source. Gorkhey’s families also practice positive dietary discrimination. Nursing mothers require additional nutrition, typically protein and vitamin sources, and these special dietary requirements are

provided for. Seasonal food shortages due to crop raids, and weather-related yield risks, have meant that family members seasonally work in farms for money or work in Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (MGNREGA) schemes. While a few families grow ferns and other leafy greens in their kitchen spaces or farms, the collection of such vitamin sources from forests is now either a negligible and opportunistic ‘pluck-if-you-find’ activity, or a fairly distant memory. When people go to Jorethang for purchases, they buy dal, rice, or chicken for themselves and for many others. When someone finds leafy greens in the forest they collect for others also. This points to the prevalence in Gorkhey of the ‘affiliation’ capability, or being able to live with and show concern towards others. A nutritional quandary also appears to have visited the Gorkhey landscape. While forests seem to have become deficient in the provisioning of leafy greens and edible ferns, their capacity to provision bamboo, a raw resource of much domestic and farming utility, has also drastically declined. Gorkhey’s farmers offer natural historical insight in the form of observations of bamboo decline. This signals their ‘senses, imagination, and thought’ capability, or the ability to think and reason. Having a cow shed in the forest is a solid marker of past forest access and use. Because of 25 years of restricted grazing, goes the reasoning, the forest floor has suffered from a lack of manuring, which has impacted bamboo regeneration. Healthy bamboo regeneration and supply in the Gorkhey context cannot be conceived solely as a provisioned service, as grazing and manuring appear to have played a positive role in regeneration. Energy quandary Significant distance from the nearest town and market has also meant, that people

have continued to collect fuel wood, as transporting LPG cylinders is laborious. Families mention their preference for LPG, but are constrained by state restrictions on infrastructural entitlement, such as roads in reserve forests and protected areas. Park laws prohibit road-laying in forests, and LPG cylinders need to be carried from Bharang, a distant town. This prohibitive drill has implied continued extraction of fuel wood from the forests. This points to a capability failure, a compromise of the ‘practical reason’ capability, that is, the ability to ‘form a conception of the good and to engage in critical reflection about the planning of one’s life.’ The switch to LPG would have, perhaps, constituted a sustainable decision based on conservation and convenience calculations. But the absence of roads has meant disturbances to natural regeneration, given fuel wood extraction. The co-production of the ecosystem’s services is perceivable in our fine-scaled assessments of human-nature interactions. Considering that the idea of ‘Singalila servicing Gorkhey’ arises from what choices households are able, or not able, to exercise in relation to the forest’s resources, it is difficult to attribute singular agency to the ecosystem. For the fact of families not being able to procure LPGs, their preferred energy source, ensures their dependence on fuel wood. It is only because of this, that Singalila’s fuel wood provisioning assumes significance as a service. In the past, Gorkhey’s cattle herds were sizeable and grazed in the forests. Intense forest grazing has, post wildlife sanctuary notification in 1986, been replaced by settled agriculture. Our ecological and participatory assessments reveal, that forest dependence today is largely for fuel wood and fodder collection, and occasional forays for leafy vegetables. Despite moderate forest dependence today, many plant species, including bamboo, do not regenerate optimally in areas where grazing and fuel wood extraction had been intense in the past. 40

It’s about more than just the view. (Photo: Andy Gazmer) Well watered Singalila’s water provisioning is a well-discernible service. Streams that flow past Gorkhey are near-perennial water sources for domestic use—washing, cleaning, cooking, or livestock feed. The community has no problems with water quality. A household typically requires 40 litres of water a day for domestic use, and another 40 litres for livestock. People do mention a spike in water consumption once a week when they wash clothes. They seem not to be unduly worried about seasonal shortages, typically pre-monsoons, and in winter. The water provisioning services of forests appear to be functioning well, as the ecological assessments suggest. But one needs to acknowledge here, the plumbing efforts of Gorkhey residents, for without such ‘resourceful’ labour, the notion of service is incomplete. Our household water surveys corroborated water-flow trends that we assessed at source. Our water assessments reveal dips in winter and pre-monsoon flows. But even in these 41

lean seasons, water flow appeared to be sufficient for the Gorkhey community. We did however detect bacteria (E. coli) in water sampled in households, and the water is slightly acidic (with a pH between 5 and 6), year-round. The consequences of acidic water are not usually considered by water quality science as contaminating but as ‘aesthetic’. Metal may leach out of pipes. Sinks may stain. But these are corrosions that in no way compromise the larger aesthetics of the Gorkhey landscape. A good moment for us to conclude, asking what are the lesser known things about this ‘lesser known beauty’?

CONCLUSION The idea of freedom and choice is central to assessing human wellbeing. It is at the core of the ‘do’ of Sen’s capabilities framework on human functioning and flourishing. Implicated in the choices that Gorkhey’s farmers have made, and also choices they have not been able to make, are their relations with

tion. When their maize attracted boars, rice attracted them. Adaptation and attraction, in their entangling, thus confound the scholars’ causal pursuit! Our ecological assessments show that, even if not optimally, most of Singalila’s forest species, except species like bamboo, are regenerating steadily. And Singalila’s resilience is manifest in its ability to provision fuel wood, demands for which spike seasonally—whether during energy-intensive winters, or touristy summers. The constant flow of water is a further reminder that Singalila’s provisioning credentials are robust.

the forest. Some old relations have lapsed, and others persist, with varying conservation implications. The choice to chiefly cultivate, rather than graze, appears to be enforced by conservation laws. But in choosing what to cultivate, enforcement and (as we shall shortly see), endearment entwine. Despite the distance they need to travel to buy rice, farmers have almost given up on maize cultivation due to boar raids. While it could be that boars, the enforcing agent here, have switched from foraging in forests to raiding farms, there has been a definite generational shift in dietary preference amongst Gorkhey folk themselves, namely, from maize to rice. This carbohydrate appears to endear in lifestyle terms. The laboriousness of growing maize and chaffing it to grain, not to mention sleepless vigilance against boar raids, are also reasons for the switch to rice.

But avoiding hard work has not been a choice in all circumstances—avoidance both enables and stresses the forest’s energy provisioning services. For instance, park laws prohibit road-laying in forests, and the LPG cylinders, which the community prefers, need to be carried from Bharang. This ensures a dependence on forests for fuel wood. The fact that families are unable to procure LPGs, their preferred energy source, ensures their dependence on fuel wood. It is only in this context that Singalila’s fuel wood provisioning assumes significance as a service. Singalila and Gorkhey appear resilient in the way they respond to interventions that disrupt historical human-nature interactions. Once a grazier community, Gorkhey has adapted well, ‘with aesthetic side-effects’, to grazing bans by switching to terraced cultiva42

Water and bamboo provisioning services, however, need to be acknowledged as being co-produced. Without resourceful plumbing labour, water cannot be delivered as service to households. The firm natural historical belief in Gorkhey is that, the grazing ban has denied crucial nutrition input into the forest floor in the form of manure, which has affected bamboo regeneration. This is further evidence that timber provisioning services are in fact co-produced. Co-production of services is one way to forge stronger links between the ecosystems services and capabilities frameworks. The latter, in emphasising the freedom of community members, considers them more as active thinking agents, than as passive folk whose needs are provisioned by the environment. Co-production imparts agency in a way by crediting people with intended or unintended roles in ecological processes. Nussbaum and Sen’s philosophy of wellbeing, when verified in a forested Himalayan hamlet, yields interesting wellbeing and conservation insights. In the collection of a scarce nutritional resource from the forest, community affiliation is signalled. In Gorkhey’s inability to make energy switches, their capability to plan and conceive of what is good, convenient, and sustainable, is compromised. In the natural-historical observations of Gorkhey folk on the correlation between manure deficiency and bamboo regeneration, 43

their reasoning capabilities assume conservation policy significance. It also means that the forest suffers, as people continue to practice firewood gathering. Some practical policy options also emerge. For the National Mission that seeks to ensure the continued provisioning of ecosystems services, an appreciation of idiosyncratic histories of co-production, such as Singalila and Gorkhey, can help invest in conservation policy and practice that is collaborative. At regional scales, the idea of services assumes rhetorical value in terms of human needs being met majestically by forests and rivers. But at intimate scales, the services idea unravels more empirically and democratically. To enhance resilience of ecosystems, one needs first to understand relational and socio-ecological interactions. Sometimes sustaining and enhancing a forest community’s freedom can complement, or go further than just seeking to sustain, the forest’s servicing of felt needs. Fuel wood provisioning is important, but understanding community reasoning and preference about energy sources is much more ecologically significant, and socially just. Further Reading Holland, B. 2008. Justice and the environment in Nussbaum’s, ‘’Capabilities Approach’’: why sustainable ecological capacity is a meta-capability? Political Research Quarterly 61(2): 319–322. MEA (Millennium Ecosystem Assessment). 2005. Ecosystem and human well-being: synthesis. Washington DC: Island Press. Nussbaum, MC. 2011. Creating capabilities: the human development approach. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap Press. Sen, A. 2013. The ends and means of sustainability. Journal of Human Development and Capabilities. 14(1): 6–20.

Engaging in Eastern Himalaya-Northeast India: Twenty years and beyond Sarala Khaling and Sunita Pradhan

Introduction The Eastern Himalaya spreads eastwards from Central Nepal through the Darjeeling Hills, Sikkim, Bhutan, and into Assam, Arunachal Pradesh, and Nagaland. This biodiversity rich landscape is categorised as one of the 35 global biodiversity hotspots, and encompasses two Global 200 ecoregions, two Endemic Bird Areas, and several centres of origin for plant diversity. Many parts of the Eastern Himalaya have not been fully explored, rendering a large part of this great natural life-support system under serious threat even before its rich biological diversity has been researched and recorded. A large number of indigenous and immigrant ethnic groups make the region culturally diverse and dynamic. Most of these communities are dependent on the forests and pastures for food, fibre, fodder, fuel wood, medicinal plants, wild pollinators, and climate and water regulation. Additionally, for all these communities, the rich biodiversity provides irreplaceable religious, spiritual, cultural, and aesthetic value in their daily lives. For millions of those living downstream, the region serves as a lifeline with its ecosystem products, functions, and servicesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;most importantly, its abundant water sources. Thus the biodiversity of the region and the wellbeing of the people are inextricably linked, and it is on this premise that ATREE first started its work to ensure ecosystem integrity through landscapes that are resilient to ongoing changes occurring in the region. A large portion of the population in the Eastern Himalaya lives in the agriculture forest-fringe landscapes, directly dependent on forests ecosystem products and functions for their livelihoods. In most cases these landscapes form buffers around protected areas, reserve forests, or large tracts of private or community-owned forests. These areas are critical to the wellbeing of a significant proportion of the population. These landscapes

are underpinned by complex processes at multiple scales and the impacts of climate change and global markets stand out amongst others. Ensuring resilience is key to the existence of such finely balanced ecosystems. This essay describes the environmental, socio-political and economic context in which ATREE has been working in the Eastern Himalaya for the last two decades. It also describes ATREEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey, from working on local livelihood-based approaches, to working on much wider issues such as climate change impacts, and the governance of sustainable and resilient landscapes.

CONTEXT In the last three decades the Eastern Himalaya has seen numerous large-scale changes that have impacted its biodiversity, and the livelihoods of people dependent on its natural resources. Land-use change from forest to other usages has been conspicuous. Rapid economic development has led to altered habitat and forest fragmentation, particularly with activities like infrastructure development, hydropower dams, mining, urbanisation, monocultures of cash crops, encroachment, logging, etc. One of the hallmarks of development in the area is the large number of hydropower projects commissioned all across the landscape, which, elsewhere, have been linked to the loss of forest cover, soil erosion, loss of aquatic life, degradation of riverine ecosystems, and loss of vital underground water sources. Yet, the long-term impacts of hydropower on the environment, biodiversity, livelihoods, and socio-cultural fabric of this landscape are unknown. Many parts of Eastern Himalaya are poorly surveyed, and the lack of biodiversity documentation is itself a pressing issue. Furthermore, wide-scale hunting, poaching, habitat degradation, and illegal trade in biodiversity

Facing page: Rhododendron aeruginosum flowering in Alpine region of Sikkim Himalaya. (Photo: Shweta Basnett) 45

are adversely impacting biodiversity. Even in better-known areas, there are no long term studies; therefore, there is little information to gauge the changes that are occurring due to large-scale phenomena such as climate change and economically driven land use changes. Agriculture continues to be a key livelihood strategy and is closely linked with biodiversity and ecosystems. The region is known for its local varieties of crops, livestock races, and traditional knowledge on the use of medicinal and wild food plants. Shortening of the traditional jhum (shifting cultivation) cycle is widespread in most states, from 50–60 years to 3–6 years, which does not allow the soil to regain its fertility and for forest to regenerate, leading to loss of yield as well as biodiversity. Use of chemical fertilisers, known to impact soil fertility, and pesticides that contaminate soil and water in downstream areas and decimate insects and birds, are widely promoted and used in many parts of the region. With the promotion of cash crops, large areas of agricultural land and forests are being converted to monocultures/commercial plantations of economically valuable crops like rubber, kiwi, cardamom, tea, etc. The long-term impacts on biodiversity and ecosystem functioning, processes, and services, and their impacts on local livelihoods and general wellbeing are not very well known. The potential impact of climate change is one of the greatest challenges to biodiversity, ecosystems and human wellbeing in the Eastern Himalaya. Climate change is affecting the Himalayas more rapidly than almost anywhere else on earth, except, for the polar regions. Rainfall patterns have changed, with less rain in non-monsoon periods and bursts of excessive downpours during the monsoon. Studies have shown that changing weather patterns are likely to impact biodiversity, ecosystem functioning, and ecosystem services. The agriculture and tea sectors will be particularly affected, as most of the agricul-

ture in the region is rain-fed, and productivity of tea is dependent on an optimal climate. Climate change impacts will be further exacerbated by ongoing unplanned development. Biodiversity and sustainable livelihoods issues are further complicated by socio-political issues like ethnic and political conflict, tribal rivalry, migration, contestation over control of local resources, and a widespread feeling of exploitation and alienation. These have resulted in widespread violence, and diverse demands by various Indian Insurgent Groups (IIGs). These have had indirect, yet pervasive, impacts on the natural resources of the region, and also on the livelihoods and wellbeing of people in the region, due to forest degradation and land use change. ATREE began working in the Eastern Himalaya in 1997. The key premise of the initial work was to enable rural communities living around a protected area to diversify and develop alternate sources of livelihoods based on ecosystem services, so that their incomes, as well as stakes in conserving biodiversity, were increased.

CONSERVATION AND LIVELIHOODS IN THE DARJEELING HIMALAYA AND ASSAM At the core of the conservation and livelihoods work was the belief that local communities are integral to any conservation effort, and it is possible to evolve participatory approaches to reconcile conservation of biodiversity with local livelihoods. This initiative was a part of a larger vision to develop models that would improve rural interventions to enhance economic returns. Initially our work did not address the larger landscape-level drivers of environmental change, and interventions were very localized—confined to Rampuria forest village in the Senchal Wildlife Sanctuary in Darjeeling district. The work included capacity building of village level institutions, improvement in agriculture practices, cultivation of cash crops, 46

livestock management, and exploring options for enhanced productivity and efficient utilisation of fuel wood and fodder resources. Several forest/biodiversity micro-enterprises such as bee keeping, bamboo craft, and community-based tourism were also introduced. One profound change over 10 years in Rampuria, perceived by communities, was the reduction in their social and ecological vulnerability as a result of alternative livelihoods. On the social side, they now had new and broader knowledge and skill sets, a diverse array of livelihood options, and a stronger sense of their ability to promote their own sustainability. Community leaders in Rampuria were now able to negotiate with the local Forest Department for joint management of forest lands, where previously they had to accept whatever decisions were handed to them. They were also able to negotiate for compensation for events like crop depredation by wildlife. Ecologically, they were no longer de-

pendent on a dwindling supply of non-timber forest products—fuel wood in particular—and had diverse income-producing options. The change in livelihood choices strikingly altered how these agriculturalists related to, and understood their ecosystems, from an exploitative approach to one of sustainable use. For instance, previously, the entire village made wood charcoal inside forests for sustaining their household income. Fuel wood collection for selling commercially was rampant in the village. ATREE’s initiatives weaned communities away from such unsustainable practices by providing alternatives. Over the 10 years from 1997–2007, ATREE’s conservation and livelihoods initiatives extended from Rampuria to 19 more villages around three protected areas in the district. Besides what was already initiated, the conservation and livelihoods programme focussed on strengthening local institutions like eco-devel-

Box 1: Forests affect orange buzz-ness and business Approximately 16% of the total geographical area of Sikkim consists of forests that lie outside the protected area network. These forests are surrounded by agricultural fields, and approximately 67% of the population is still dependent on agriculture. We carried out a study on the role of forest fragments in sustaining pollination service to mandarin orange (Citrus reticulata), the major cash crop of Sikkim. The results highlight that people are dependent upon forest fragments for their daily needs of fuel wood, fodder, and edible NTFPs, and indirect services like drinking water, and pollination. Furthermore, the honeybee and hoverfly are the major pollinators of mandarin orange, with 65% and 23% visitation rate, respectively. Orange flowers, when cross-pollinated, yielded four times more fruits than otherwise. We found 80% of forest that we sampled were forests recovering from disturbance and comprised pioneer species, which are poor in nectar resources. Hence, increase in forest cover did not necessarily translate into increased pollinator abundance. Therefore, sustaining old forest patches may help pollinators; increase in pollinator abundance will assure cross-pollination, eventually improving socio-economic welfare of mandarin orange growers of Sikkim. Collection and checking of harvested mandarin oranges in Sikkim by farmers. (Photo: Urbashi Pradhan)

-Urbashi Pradhan and Soubadra Devy.

opment committees, self-help groups, social safety nets like ‘Samaj’, and building micro-enterprises with the aim to ensure that whatever we had initiated would continue even with minimum involvement of ATREE. Protected area regulations put a curb on many activities such as charcoal-making, and fuel wood sale. However, the various initiatives by ATREE helped buffer people against these livelihood changes and ensured that there was no people-park conflict. Strengthening local institutions, like eco-development committees, and community leadership in conserving forest resources further strengthened the effort of adopting more sustainable livelihoods which were supportive of conservation in the region. In the last 10 years, from 2007–2016, ATREE’s work, which began in one village,

was scaled up to about 30 villages around three protected areas in Darjeeling district of West Bengal, and 20 villages in Assam. The conservation and livelihoods work further evolved during this time; concurrently, key large research initiatives pertaining to ecosystem services and human wellbeing, sustainable use of bio-resources, and climate change mitigation were also introduced in the Eastern Himalayas (Box 1). This further helped connect the ongoing implementation work in the region to the larger institutional vision of ATREE, i.e., generating interdisciplinary knowledge for sustainability. Alongside this, climate change has become the overarching theme for all of ATREE’s work in the region (Boxes 2 and 3). The approach was to work towards building landscapes that are resilient to climatic changes impacting the Eastern Himalaya.

Box 2: People’s perceptions match scientists’ findings The Himalayas are assumed to be undergoing rapid climate change, with serious environmental, social, and economic consequences for more than two billion people, but data on the extent of climate change, or its impact on the region, are meagre. A study on perceptions about climate change conducted by Chaudhary, Bawa and colleagues among 576 people in 29 villages of Nepal (Ilam district) and Indian (Darjeeling district) Himalayas have helped fill this gap. Researchers found that people in the region have considerable knowledge of climate change and its effects on the weather, ecosystems, biodiversity, and agriculture. There is a widespread sense among people that the weather is getting warmer, water resources are drying up, the onset of summer is advancing, the monsoon has decreased, and there is less snow on the mountains. They also noted a variety of impacts of these changes on biodiversity, cropping patterns, distributional range of species, bud burst and flowering, and emergence of new agricultural pests, weeds, and mosquitoes. These perceptions are consistent across space, and conform to scientific findings. Furthermore, people at high altitudes appear more sensitive to climate change than those at low altitudes. Such knowledge can allow scientists to test specific hypotheses, and policy makers to design mitigation and adaptation strategies for climate change across the world.

Slash and burn agriculture in Arunachal Pradesh. (Photo: Tajum Yomcha)

-Pashupati Chaudhary and Kamal Bawa

Box 3: Ecohydrology of Sikkim Himalayas and its future in a changing climate Changing climate and rapid land-use and land-cover changes have ensured that access to water is becoming the most challenging prospect for human survival, especially in the mountains, where >90% of the population is dependent upon springs and small streams for their water security. Preliminary results show contrasting behaviour in the streams originating from different forest-types. Sub-alpine forest streams show higher runoff and steadier low flows (due to snowmelt) when compared to streams from broad-leaved forests, which show very low runoff generation, highlighting the importance of dense tree cover in mitigating extreme events. Additionally, in a first of its kind observation from the Himalayas, we report evidence of the influence of forests on springs based on the strong diurnal patterns in spring flows. The forested springs have steadier flows in both high and mid-flow conditions as opposed to agricultural springs, which show steadier dry-season flows. -Manish Kumar and Jagdish Krishnaswamy

ATREE’s work now also includes mitigating climate change impacts in mountain farming communities in the Darjeeling Himalaya. This includes 1200 households spread across 30 villages. Here the approach includes 1) research and monitoring of changes in land use, particularly forest cover, changes in livelihoods, drivers of human-wildlife conflicts, and perception of climate change impacts; 2) changing practices, particularly in agriculture and energy use, to make them more ‘climate smart’ and efficient to mitigate the local impacts of climate change; 3) building institutions and their capacity to manage the impacts of climate change; and 4) building the resilience of stakeholders, particularly those dependent on the forests and who manage these resources. Moving on from the mountains, ATREE also contributed to the conservation of two World Heritage Sites in Assam: Manas National Park, and Kaziranga National Park. One of the key 49

Automatic stream discharge monitoring station at 3600 m amsl in Kyongnosla Alpine Sanctuary, East Sikkim. (Photo: Tanushree Srivastava)

contributions of the work was restoration of the World Heritage Site status for Manas, which was ‘in danger’. This was done through collaborative research that documented the recovery of key wildlife populations. The monitoring of wildlife populations in Manas produced the first detailed baseline photographic data of species occurrence and diversity. As part of the conservation and livelihoods work, ATREE reached out to 400 households, enhancing livelihoods options, and strengthening the conservation of these two World Heritage Sites through improved management. As a long-term commitment, ATREE remains engaged in Manas National Park, focussing on eight villages where people are most dependent on forest resources, and are most vulnerable to human-wildlife conflict. The work aims to enhance sustainable livelihoods to secure the ecological integrity of Manas National Park. The overarching issue of vulnerability— especially of agriculture—to climate change, has also been integrated into the work.

Box 4: Rhododendrons—a keystone species and a symbol of culture and service Rhododendrons, considered ‘the super-flower species’ of the Eastern Himalaya, occur in all the dominant forest types of Sikkim. Our observations in the subalpine forests and the alpine shrubby patches (altitude of 3400–4200m above sea level), in Kyongnosla Alpine Sanctuary, over 3 years, showed myriad forms of visitors to these flowers, from bumble bees and flies, to the spectacular fire-tailed sunbird, which play a key role in pollination. Apart from pollinators, ungulates, such as musk deer, feed on the Rhododendron setosum, petals, and small rodents, like pika, hoard the rhododenone of the-high altitude rhododendrons, dron petals in their burrows for the winter. Rhododendrons is mainly pollinated by bumblebees. also play an important role in the culture of various Bud(Photo: Shweta Basnett) dhist and Hindu communities. Rhododendron aroboreum, locally known as lali gurans, is commonly used to prepare local alcohol. Rhododendron anthopogon and Rhododendron setosum, locally called sunpatey, are used as incense and are part of the daily prayers in Buddhist monasteries and households. Rhododendrons are also used by communities for their medicinal value. Local communities have observed slight shifts in the flowering seasons of rhododendron over the years. Many studies have highlighted the sensitivity of these plants, attributing the change in flowering phenology to an increase in temperature. Any shift in its time of flowering can affect the services that it provides to other life forms in the forests, and to the people. -Shweta Basnett and Soubadra Devy M.

CLIMATE CHANGE AND RESILIENCE The impact of climate change on Himalayan landscapes and people is very high. The Eastern Himalayas are experiencing widespread warming at a rate of more than 0.01°C per year. Climate change impacts will be further exacerbated by ongoing unplanned development activities leading to loss of biodiversity as well as adversely affecting livelihoods. Weather-related and natural disasters, made worse by unsustainable development activities, are the key cause of vulnerabilities for people, and entail high costs to the government. For example, cyclone Aila in 2009, and the Sikkim earthquake of 2011, which was followed by heavy rainfall, brought immense loss of life and property to the Darjeeling and Sikkim Himalayas. Another major area of serious climate-change impact is agricultural production—the direct

or indirect source of livelihood for over 70% of the population in the Eastern Himalaya region, and a substantial contributor to national income. For a growing population in the Eastern Himalaya, food security through crop production is one of the greatest livelihoods needs. A large proportion of the fruit, vegetable, and seed production depends on being pollinated by insects. Local weather changes have the potential to alter the timing of flowering of crop species, which might affect their pollination, and eventually, production. Similarly, climate warming affects the phenology (i.e., the timing of fruiting and flowering) of plants, and the local abundance, and large-scale distribution, of plants and pollinators. Rhododendrons, the iconic flowering plants of the Eastern Himalayan forests, could be among the group of plants that will be highly affected (Box 4). 50

MOVING AHEAD TO ATREE@30 ATREE in the past 20 years has travelled from a single village in Darjeeling, addressing very localised issues, to attempting to address larger-scale, and more complex, issues such as climate change, land use change, ecosystem services, and human wellbeing, to name a few. Over 20 years, we have generated knowledge, developed regional capacity (research, conservation, outreach, and sustainable livelihoods), and promoted sustainable livelihoods in Assam, Sikkim, Darjeeling district, and in parts of Arunachal Pradesh and Nagaland. We also have a long-term record of engagement with partner organisation all across the Eastern Himalaya. This history underpins ATREE’s Eastern Himalaya-Northeast India Initiative strategy (2016– 2026), which is our plan of action for the next decade, to address critical needs in knowledge generation and outreach for the region. Through the Small Grants Programme and the Northeast India Biodiversity Portal initiative, ATREE has been able to forge partnerships with more than 30 organizations and 500 individuals from all sectors across the eight northeast states, working toward the common goal of sustainable development. Building solidarity and cooperation in the region is vital to scaling up and sustaining our initiatives. In particular, continued engagement with policy makers and administrative agencies, as well as with NGOs, researchers, and academicians, is an indispensable step for making progress on all our environmental challenges. ATREE is playing an important role in regional forums like the Integrated Mountain Initiative—a coalition of institutions and individuals formed in 2011 to redefine sustainable development approaches across the 12 mountain states of the Indian Himalayas and Northeast India. Over the next decade, our vision is to develop multi-functional

landscapes where biodiversity is protected, ecosystem integrity is maintained, and the well-being of people is promoted. Acknowledgements Ruchi Pant, Ajay Rastogi, Bibhab Talukdar, and Suman Rai, the previous Regional Directors of ATREE’s Regional Office in Eastern Himalaya-Northeast India, were instrumental in leading ATREE to greater heights. We would also like to thank former ATREE staff whose efforts and intellectual inputs helped the Regional Office in expanding from one village to the entire region. We thank our key stakeholders—local communities, the West Bengal Forest Department, the Forests, Environment, and Wildlife Management Department of the Government of Sikkim, the Assam Forest Department—and various partners and donors, for support and co-operation. Last but not least, we would like to acknowledge Dr. Kamal Bawa and his commitment to the region. Further Reading Chaudhary, P., and KS. Bawa. 2011. Local perceptions of climate change validated by scientific evidence in the Himalayas. Biology Letters. doi: 10.1098/rsbl.2011.0269. Chettri, N., E. Sharma, B. Shakya, R. Thapa, B. Bajracharya, K. Uddin, KP. Oli, and D. Choudhury 2010. Biodiversity in the Eastern Himalayas: Status, Trends and Vulnerability to Climate Change. Climate Change Impact and Vulnerability in the Eastern Himalayas – Technical Report 2. Kathmandu: International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) . CEPF. 2005. Ecosystem Profile: Eastern Himalayan Region. Kathmandu: WWF-US, Asia Programme, Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund (CEPF).

Introduction

Conservation in the wide blue yonder of Agasthyamalai: Can knowledge be linked with action? Soubadra Devy M., T. Ganesh and R. Ganesan

In the early 1990s, when we had just begun our ecological research in the Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve (KMTR), in Tamil Nadu, we would often stand at the Manjolai ‘U-bend’ viewpoint in the enveloping darkness, and see scattered patches of light from villages in the distance. Today, these patches appear to have coalesced into a uniform, brightly lit landscape—an indication of how the landscape around the reserve has changed dramatically. This area had seen more than a hundred researchers conducting their research here on diverse subjects. We established ATREE’s flagship long-term monitoring programme (see Ganesh et al., this volume) and canopy research in the core area of the reserve. While our work took us to areas with minimal or no human presence within the reserve, we noticed significant changes in the landscape beyond the reserve, which we began to pay some attention to. The focus of our research soon extended beyond KMTR, which led to discoveries of some very unique biodiversity pockets in this landscape. There were heronries, fresh water swamps, and wetlands with waterfowl migrating from Central Asia; and semi-arid grasslands used as grazing grounds by the Konar community with their unique Nadu breed of sheep. Further south, in the arid plains beyond the reserve, which lies in the rain shadow of the lofty Agasthyamalai mountains, are the shifting sand dunes studded with palmyras, heritage trees, and sacred groves.

STEPPING OUT AND THE CHALLENGES THEREIN The Agasthyamalai Community-based Conservation Centre (ACCC) of ATREE, was established in 2002, to broaden the scope of the research by addressing conservation issues outside the reserve. While our bio-

Ananya Singh 52

diversity monitoring efforts (started in the 1990s) continued inside the reserve, moving away from the dense evergreen forests to the semi-arid human-dominated landscape meant deviating from engaging with one stakeholder (the Forest Department) with just conservation goals, to engaging with diverse stakeholders with an interest in maintaining the ‘multi’ functionality of the landscape. In other words, it meant conserving biodiversity, while at the same time accommodating its diverse use by humans. Over a decade, we moved farther and farther away from KMTR’s eco-development/buffer area, but within the Tamiraparani river landscape, covering a range of ecosystems such as wetlands, Acacia ‘jungles’, and semi-arid grasslands. Here, we highlight some significant learnings that science and actions have provided to address conservation challenges, with a few case studies. We also examine the level of interactions among stakeholders that we could foster in each of our case studies and its implications on the research leading to action. Reid and others (2016), who have proposed a typology of research-action programmes, suggest that in most cases households and ecosystems have become mere subjects of post-graduate research/big research projects, which seldom result in action or even give information back to the community. They highlight that the most successful cases, where research gets translated to action, are when research teams position people or institutions along the boundaries between communities, policy makers, and researchers. Research that integrates knowledge from communities, policy makers, and researchers to support action is still rare. However, there can be gradients, e.g., cases with linkages between just researchers and communities but not policy makers, or researchers with policy makers, though these may not always result in action. Reid and others identify 5 models that

We initiated home gardens for women and tree planting for men in the villages, with a dual vision—first to extend the biodiversity frontier into the buffer area, and second, to meet the shortage of biomass in the villages. We engaged with women who previously collected fuelwood by reviving the practice of home gardening that was prevalent in the landscape before the advent of intense paddy cultivation.

Figure 1. Models linking knowledge with action. (Reproduced from Reid et al. 2016, with permission) support community and policy action with science through this gradient of interactions among researchers, communities, and policy makers (Figure 1). They also propose continuous interactions with communities and policy makers as a means to link knowledge with actions. Our case studies capture various examples on a gradient of these interactions, and the level of success we have had with the science-action interface.

EXTENDING THE BIODIVERSITY FRONTIER INTO THE BUFFER KMTR has had an Eco-Development Programme (EDP) implemented by the Forest Department, which claims to have addressed both conservation and livelihood goals. An independent evaluation of the programme showed that, while there was a significant level of habitat recovery (increase in biomass) as a result of the eco-development, there was also an acute shortage of biomass in buffer villages as the people were weaned out of forests1. 1 Jesudasan A. 2010. Evaluating integrated conservation and development projects: a case study from Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve (KMTR). M.Sc thesis. Madras School of Economics (Faculty of Science and Humanities) Anna University, Chennai, India.

We chose a cluster of villages that were heavily dependent on these forests for fuelwood, grazing and livelihood sources. Our household survey in these villages identified space as a limiting factor to establish home gardens. We developed a model garden in a space of 3x3 m, in which 40 varieties of vegetables, leafy greens, and essential medicinal plants were grown. The choice of species was based on a survey of dietary and health requirements of the households in the selected villages. Women established multipurpose home gardens and formed collectives around it based on our model garden. After meeting the household requirements, surplus vegetables were sent to the market. Individuals raised multipurpose tree species that could provide fuelwood, fodder, and green manure in their backyard to compensate for restricted access to forests after the EDP was implemented. After 10 years, we see that about 10% of the women who adopted gardening still practice it. Today, many women see employment under the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act as a more lucrative source of income than having home gardens.

fuelwood amounting to 700 kg from an area of 5 m2, 4 years after planting.

hand, communities contend that the reserve was carved out of what was once a cultural landscape with no restriction to access during festivals. An added problem is that the TNFD is understaffed to manage the pilgrim flow.

SORIMUTHAIYAN TEMPLE – NO LONGER THE QUAINT JUNGLE SHRINE Growing research in the last decade has highlighted the overlap between religious sites and areas of high biodiversity value, including formally protected areas. The Sorimuthaiyan Temple is one such site located in the core area of KMTR, with deep cultural linkages to the region. In the early 1990s, the number of pilgrims were a few thousand during the annual Adi Amavasai festival of the temple. Our surveys in last few years show an increase to about 200,000 pilgrims, and the festival now attracts people even from faraway villages. The National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) has mandated that every tiger reserve needs to develop a plan to manage religious tourism. However, balancing the two interests—community visitation rights, and protection of the reserve’s vulnerable biodiversity—has been a challenge for implementation. The Tamil Nadu Forest Department’s (TNFD) assertion of control over the temple and the people attending the festival, and the TNFD’s plan for celebrating the festival with little or no impact, have led to an increase in hostility and non-cooperation. On the other

Village level surveys of tree species planted show that about 10% of them have survived after 10 years. There is also a consistent demand for saplings (5000 per year) from the nursery that was set up by ATREE. Although we do not have a detailed analysis of the annual mortality rate and survival, the demand for saplings shows that there is a keen interest, and perhaps use, of these trees. This is substantiated by our findings where we have recorded households that harvested timber/ 54

Against this backdrop, the TNFD invited us to draw up a management model facilitating the shifting of governance of the festival management from a single agency (Forest Department) to a diverse set of stakeholders, to manage pilgrim visits and impacts on the protected area. Among the stakeholders were a suite of actors from the TNFD and other government departments, community organisations, civil society bodies, and the media. These bodies were committed to a common goal of reducing impacts, and each was allocated responsibilities. ‘The multi-stakeholder model’ had components of monitoring impacts of religious tourism on water and biodiversity, and assessing the socio-economic status, and the attitude, of pilgrims. This served as feedback for coercing action in the following year, which had varying levels of success2. As an example, a study that demonstrated the huge number of road kills of small animals by vehicles travelling on the roads at night during the festival, led to the banning of night traffic from the subsequent year onwards. Our water analysis data provided a clear indication of water pollution as a result of prolonged camping of the pilgrims within the forests. However, attempts to reduce the number of camping days found resistance with both religious institution and communities. Assessing the pilgrims’ place of origin, attitude, and socio-economic status helped us to identify villages with high visitation rates, and to design outreach programmes that could influence behavioural change and reduce impacts. Bringing together conservation groups and the religious institution, which did not see 2 ATREE. 2010. God amidst the tigers, a report on the impacts of the Sorimuthian temple festival on the ecosystems of Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve. Bengaluru: ATREE.

eye-to-eye, was a challenging task. However, over time, a major breakthrough was made, where there was to be a joint mitigation effort that facilitated lessening the friction. The multi-stakeholder model is now being scaled up to other protected areas such as the Ranthambhore Tiger Reserve in Rajasthan, and the Jim Corbett National Park in Uttarakhand, with other conservation partners.

CAN WETLANDS BE EQUITABLY USED BY BIRDS AND HUMANS? The KMTR landscape boasts of a network of 2000 wetlands linked through multiple channels to the Tamiraparani river that originates in Agasthyamalai. These channels were established 500 years ago by the erstwhile rulers of the region, and further expanded during the British period. In the past, communities had a set of regulatory mechanisms to govern the use of water and associated resources, which, in turn, supported a huge diversity of water birds in the Tamiraparani river basin. After the construction of dams and the canal systems, water management is now vested with various government departments. This has both alienated the community from actual management, and has led to a general apathy towards these tanks. A sizeable number of these fall into a ‘non-system’ category, and are not connected by canals, but are instead rainfed tanks. They neither come under the management of any government department, nor are they managed by the community. This neglect has resulted in silting, and colonisation by invasive species, making them unsuitable for both communities and biodiversity. We used birds as an indicator for our biodiversity assessment, as there has been a history of conservation, especially of heronries, in the region. These tanks, apart from providing water for agriculture, are also leased out for fisheries by the Gram Panchayat, and income incurred from this is used in community activities such as temple festivals. During summer, cattle from

the adjoining villages graze in the tank beds, which have grass, and the silt is also mined and sold by the Panchayat as farm-manure. We developed criteria to identify wetlands that were worthy of protecting the birds without hampering human use. About 100 species were encountered from 300 wetlands surveyed. Vagaikulam wetland emerged as needing conservation intervention, being the only heronry in the entire buffer region of KMTR. Strangely enough, the Social Forestry Wing of TNFD, through the Swedish International Development Agency, raised babul (Acacia nilotica) plantations for fuelwood in the tanks in this region, which, over time, slowly evolved into a heronry, attracting not less than 15 species that now nest here. The tank also provided nourishment for a variety of bird species. The year after we started working in Vagaikulam, these trees came under a cutting cycle. Our survey of wetlands in the area showed that most plantations were harvested, leaving only the Vagaikulam patch for nesting and breeding of birds. We started our research by having very little to do with the community where, in the eyes of the community, we were a bunch of people from the city indulging in some bird watch56

ing. Soon, children from the community got interested in us, and we took the opportunity to build their capacity in identifying and monitoring birds. A children’s theatre group was formed with the help of local folk artists that performed street plays on biodiversity conservation. This helped make inroads into the community. Alongside, we initiated experiments and assessments of ecosystem services (ESS) provisioned by the birds. We demonstrated enhanced growth of paddy irrigated with tank water (enriched through bird droppings, or ‘guano’) through experiments where paddy was raised in pots with guano-rich water, compared with of pots in which paddy was grown with water from tanks that did not have a heronry3. The villagers around the tank attribute the bigger size of fish in the tank to the falling guano, eggs, chicks, etc., from the heronry on which they feed. The findings of our experiments were combined with community observations and were then shared with various stakeholders as an attempt to link knowledge with action. The common goal of working towards abandoning the cutting of the babul trees was worked out by knitting institutions that included the District Administration, Public Works Department, Village Panchayat, Forest Department, and community leaders. After initial upheavals due to political interference, and physical threats from the contractors, a consensus was reached that the heronry was worthy of protection. Today, there is even a functional monitoring team for the heronry that comprises both adults and children of the village, who keep strict surveillance of the site. Sustaining the progress, developing an adaptive management strategy over time, and institutionalising efforts to meet future challenges were critical to see that the heronry does not face similar threats of losing trees in the future. 3 ATREE. 2010. Vagaikulam: a potential conservation reserve. A proposal to the Tamil Nadu State Government 2010. ATREE reports to the Tamil Nadu Government.

ATREE held workshops for communities on the pros and cons of declaring the area as a community conservation area under the Wildlife Protection Act (1972), and as a biodiversity heritage site under the Biological Diversity Act (2002). This helped in identifying an appropriate institutionalising mechanism that gave the community more stake in protecting the heronry. The biodiversity management committee under the Panchayat is now exploring means to have the heronry declared as a biodiversity heritage site to ensure ‘equitable use of wetlands by birds and humans’ for times to come.

SCATTERED GRASSLANDS AND SCATTERING BIODIVERSITY? The eastern plains further away from Agasthyamalai comprise arid lands that harbour biodiversity unique to that habitat, and also provide ecosystem services to the surrounding villages. These areas are also far away from the tank-canal network of the Tamiraparani river, and so rain-fed crops such as millets, cotton, oilseed, and pulses are grown here. This arid region supports a very vibrant community of Konar shepherds, who move long distances with their unique breed of short-hair sheep, called Nadu. This migration is between the arid grasslands, and fallows at the foothills of KMTR during

A member of the Vagaikulam village heronry monitoring group. (Photo: Samuel Jacob) 57

the summer. These grasslands support flora and fauna that require grazing to maintain the openness of the habitat. Large swathes of land were with local farmers who cultivated it during years of good rain. They had arrangements with the Konar, who penned their sheep to provide manure. Now this land is getting appropriated by realtors, and for other land use such as industries and plantations. These lands are being fenced now, with no more access for grazing. Most of the remaining grasslands are below 0.01 ha in area, and some of the larger ones are endowments created to generate income for temples4. Our biodiversity surveys of the patchwork of many small and a few large grasslands used by the Konars show that plant communities in these grasslands are remarkably diverse. There are several species found in these grasslands that have been described for the first time. Over 100 species of plants have been described from the area, many of which are seasonal herbs and grasses that grow in the wet season. A number of small animals such as the Indian fox (Vulpes benghalensis), jungle cat (Felis chaus), golden jackal (Canis aureus), common grey mongoose (Herpestes edwardsii), and the Madras hedgehog (Paraechinus nudiventris) are still found in the remaining patches of grass and scrub land. Our social survey has also revealed that many from the next generation of Konars may not herd the Nadu. They also opined that a decrease in grazing can lead to colonisation of these grasslands by the introduced tree, Prosopis juliflora, and other invasive species. There are still some among the Konars who would like to continue with their traditional livelihood. Our participatory mapping has identified the migratory routes of Konars and land tenures of the grazing ground. Manthai (pen) and mechal peramboke (grazing com4

ATREE. 2016. Shrinking pastoral lands of Konars: delineating linkages between ecosystem services and livelihoods. ATREE report to Royal Norwegian Embassy.

sations, to mitigate impacts. Adoption of the model by the NTCA could enable its implementation, within a short period of time, in many other tiger reserves.

were planned for the site, and on results of our biodiversity impact surveys. These were conveyed to communities through street plays, television broadcasts, and posters in the selected villages.

Konar shepherds with their ‘Nadu chembari aadu’ navigating a highway. Land use and land cover changes have led to fragmentation of the grasslands by industries, plantations, roads, etc. (Photo: Abhishek Samrat) mons), which existed earlier have mostly been either encroached upon or de-notified for alternate uses. What model of conservation can work here remains to be examined. Although it seems like a long shot, one way could be for the state or for conservation organisations to acquire lands to establish grazing reserves, which will be solely managed by the Konars, and not be nested under provisions such as ‘biodiversity heritage site’ or ‘conservation reserve’ that could bring in additional complexities involving many more stakeholders.

CONCLUSION Our efforts over the years in the KMTR landscape have spanned the gradient from knowledge generation to action. Our initial long-term monitoring work in KMTR was where the Forest Department was the only other stakeholder, granting permission based on proposed work. Here, perhaps we contend that knowledge has been generated which may not always get translated into action. The management of the Sorimuthaiyan festival involved continuous engagement of researchers, policy makers (TNFD), and communities. Panchayat leaders and the temple were among the other stakeholders and actors engaged. There were dialogues at all stages: on the management plan among stakeholders, concerning regulations that 58

The case of the Vagaikulam heronry also had a clear knowledge-generating phase in close association with communities, and fostered openness of experimentation. There was also a small step forward in linking ‘knowledge with action’ by involving the local Panchayat as a major stakeholder in managing the wetland and its associated biodiversity. However, the engagement with the TNFD was only at the final stages. In the case of grasslands, inclusion of all stakeholders and actors, particularly landowners, temple trustees, and the district administration, on a continuous basis, seems more complex. Sometimes selective exclusion of policy makers/implementers also becomes necessary due to the unequal power relations between them and the community, and differing motivations, as in the case of Vagaikulam heronry. Although many of our efforts happened at a local scale, these have to be complemented by actions by regional and national level institutions under which some of the local institutions are often nested. For example, declaration of the Vagaikulam heronry as a Biodiversity Heritage Site is contingent upon the Tamil Nadu State Biodiversity Board, a state level organisation, which is yet to act, while the entire process that is required at the local level has been completed. In the case of temple festival management in reserves, there have been actions based on knowledge generated at the local level by the state forest departments. It remains to be seen if the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA), a national level institution, will adopt the multi-stakeholder model, which also includes religious institutions, and community organi-

Our work has shown clearly that it is important, and possible, to create conditions for a continuous engagement among researchers, communities, policy makers, and facilitators. While these local-scale efforts seem within the reach of local institutions for a reasonable level of action, the inclusion of policy implementers/facilitators still seems a distant and difficult goal. Acknowledgements The interesting case studies of this chapter would not have been possible if we did not have the fantastic ‘rural-urban nexus’ of our team. Mathivanan, Saravanan, Tamilazghan, and Ruthamma were the ‘rural’ core, who were complemented by the ‘urban’ support of Prashanth, Allwin, Seshadri, and Sanjay. Abhishek and Surya are helping us map and discover more lesser-known taxa in the landscape. Siddhartha Krishnan, who is a part of our new foray into the grasslands, helped us understand the Konars better. We benefitted from multiple donors: Tata Allied Trust, IUCN, DBT, Rufford, National Geographic Society, Royal Norwegian Embassy, SANDEE, Alliance of Religion and Conservation, and many others. Further Reading Mosses, D. 1999. Colonial and contemporary ideologies of ‘community management’: the case of tank irrigation development in South India. Modern Asian Studies 33(2): 303–339. Reid, RS., D. Nkedianye, MY. Said, D. Kaelo, M. Neselle, O. Makui, L. Onetu et al. 2016. Evolution of models to support community and policy action with science: balancing pastoral livelihoods and wildlife conservation in savannas of East Africa. PNAS 113(17): 4579–4584.

One size needn’t fit all: Conservation lessons from long-term research in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve, South India Ankila J. Hiremath, Nitin D. Rai and C. Made Gowda

On 27 October 2010, more than 1,000 Soligas from the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Wildlife Sanctuary (BRT), in Karnataka, took to the streets of Chamarajanagara. They wore green scarves across their mouths and walked in silent protest. They were protesting against the ‘in principal approval’ by the Ministry of Environment and Forests (MoEF1) for BRT to be declared a tiger reserve, and the imminent threat of eviction, and loss of access to the forest, that this spelt for them under the Wildlife Protection Act (WLPA), 1972. Although this was the immediate cause of the protest, the genesis of the protest occurred 5 years earlier—with the disappearance of tigers from Sariska, one of India’s premier tiger reserves. This was soon followed by the disappearance of tigers from Panna, another tiger reserve. In response to the news of Sariska’s missing tigers, the Prime Minister set up a Tiger Task Force. The task force’s mandate was to review tiger conservation in the country since 1973, when Project Tiger was instituted, and to suggest measures to strengthen tiger conservation to avoid the occurrence of future ‘Sariskas’.

THE TIGER TASK FORCE REPORT The task force report, published in October 2005, made a series of recommendations pertaining to institutions, protection, and coexistence. Under its institutional agenda, the task force recommended that the Project Tiger directorate be made an autonomous legal authority. This was intended to facilitate its work and improve centre-state coordination.

Kalyani Ganapathy

Under its protection agenda, it recognised the need for inviolate spaces (i.e., where the presence of people is likely to do irreversible damage to wildlife and habitats). But it also recommended that people then needed to be relocated in a time-bound manner, so they would not become trespassers in their own homes. 1

Now, the Ministry of Environment Forest and Climate Change (MoEF&CC)

Finally, under its coexistence agenda, the task force recommended a new approach to conservation. It recognised that relocating all people from all parks was completely infeasible. It is estimated that over 3 million people reside in approximately 1,500 villages across India’s protected areas; in the last 30 years, only about 80 villages have been relocated, and that too, with mixed success. It also recognised that more money, more guns, and more guards could not be the solution to what was a very complex issue. At the time of the Sariska crisis, it is estimated that more money was being spent per tiger per km2 in Sariska, than in any other park in the country. The report unequivocally stated that the resolution to the problem could only be achieved when tigers, forests, and people coexisted, a uniquely ‘Indian model of conservation’, the elements of which included not only enhancing protection and identifying inviolate spaces, but also involving communities in sharing in the benefits of conservation. This was a recommendation that addressed both conservation and livelihoods, or what it termed the ‘terrain of competing needs’. In many ways, the recommendations of the task force offered a potential way out of the impasse between two extreme positions—exclusionary conservation vs community-based conservation—that has defined the conservation discourse in India. Biologists have consistently insisted that community-based conservation neglects the difficult biological issues. On the other hand, proponents of community-based conservation have maintained, that exclusionary conservation often disregards the difficult social issues, perceiving them to be antithetical to conservation. Within months of publication of the task force’s report, in December 2005, the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) was constituted. Shortly thereafter, the WLPA was amended. Under this 2006 Amendment to the WLPA, tiger reserves—till then a man-

agement category under Project Tiger—were made a legal category. ‘Tiger Reserve’ status mandated setting up a core zone, completely free of human habitation and use, surrounded by a buffer. These ‘core’ or ‘critical tiger habitat’ (CTH), and ‘buffer’, areas needed to be notified following a clear process. Buffer zones required local consultation, while CTH needed to have ‘expert’ inputs into their delineation. The act defines CTH as areas ‘where it has been established, on the basis of scientific and objective criteria, that such areas are required to be kept as inviolate for the purposes of tiger conservation’. These developments were to result in an increased effort by forest departments across the country to renew their push to evict local communities from tiger reserves. What we had, in effect, was a rapid implementation of the task force’s recommendations pertaining to more protectionist or exclusionary conservation, but a failure to engage with its recommendations to be more inclusive, and to broaden the constituency for conservation. This was not new—a similar task force, set up in 1983 to elicit public support for wildlife conservation, had made similar recommendations. It had warned that the ‘enforcement of restrictions’ would only ‘trigger antagonism’, but this had gone unheeded.

ically had a high degree of protection, not all have the high tiger numbers one would expect. There are a few (e.g., Kanha, Corbett, and Bandhavgarh) with tiger numbers close to their expected potential; there are others (e.g., Simlipal, Sunderbans, Rajaji) where tiger numbers are well below the expected potential; most other reserves fall somewhere between these two groups; and then, there are those where tigers had completely disappeared, despite protection (e.g., Sariska and Panna). The scientific reasons for strict protection, especially given its variable outcomes thus far, cannot be reconciled with the social costs of conservation, especially the loss of rights of local people. In addition, it is bound to have ecological outcomes that might not result in improved habitat conditions for wildlife. For example, with the exception of a select few reserves (e.g., Bhadra), relocation has largely led to more poverty and destitution. It has alienated communities, making them view wildlife as an adversary, and created antagonists rather than allies in the conservation effort. Is there, then, a possibility for resolution? Both ecologists and social scientists need to provide answers to questions regarding human use

In light of this sequence of events, it becomes necessary to ask, first, what are likely to be the impacts (socioeconomic, ecological) of exclusionary conservation as recommended by the 2006 amendment to the WLPA? And second, are there ecological arguments for an alternative (or complement) to this model?

EXCLUSIONARY CONSERVATION

of resources: What are the long-term trends of human resource use? What impact does human use have, not only on focal taxa but also on the landscape? And can coexistence and benign use be sustained and promoted? That, then, brings us to the second question: Are there arguments for an alternative or complementary model of conservation? We draw on over 15 years of work that ATREE has been doing in BRT to make a case, that there may be situations where the continued coexistence of people and wildlife is possible.

BILIGIRI RANGASWAMY TEMPLE TIGER RESERVE The BRT forest, a 540 km2 protected area, has been home to the Soligas for at least the past 3 centuries. Till the 1960s, part of the area was a hunting reserve of the Maharaja of Mysore, while the British had converted large portions of the higher altitudes to coffee plantations. Other parts of the forest were either protected, or managed under selection felling. The declaration of BRT as a wildlife sanctuary, in 1974, displaced Soligas from their shifting cultivation sites to settled colonies, thus altering their social and agricultural practices. Other customary forest management practices, including hunting and the use of early dry season fires, were banned. However, Soligas retained the right to harvest non-timber forest products (NTFP) from the forest, till this was curtailed in 2005–2006, following an amendment to the WLPA in 2002, forcing many Soligas to turn to wage labour. Despite the protests by the Soligas, with which we started this narrative, on 24 January 2011 BRT was declared a tiger reserve. ATREE has worked in BRT since the mid- to late-1990s, in collaboration with the Vivekananda Girijana Kalyan Kendra, and the Soliga Abhivrudhi Sangha. We present findings from some of our ecological work on amla (a combination of Phyllanthus emblica and P. indofischeri), and lantana (Lantana camara),

How well has strict protection fared in India so far? Even using the narrow criterion of tiger numbers, as a metric to assess conservation success, the picture that emerges is inconsistent. In existing tiger reserves that have histor62

as well as a counter-mapping effort with the Soligas. We then discuss how the learnings from our long-term work in BRT provide an ecological argument for an alternative model of conservation, and go on to talk about the legal space that now exists for just such an alternative model in BRT, and elsewhere.

THE DEMOGRAPHY OF AMLA Prior to the ban on collection in 2006, NTFP were an important source of livelihoods for the Soligas. Between 40–60% of cash incomes could be accounted for by NTFP. Amla, and honey from rock bees (Apis dorsata), were the NTFP collected in the largest volumes. Other important NTFP included myrobalan (Terminalia bellerica and T. chebula), soap berry (Sapindus laurifolius), and soap nut (Acacia coincina). Amla is an important source of vitamin C, and has a ready market (for use in pickles, preserves, and Ayurvedic medicines). Because of its importance to the Soligas, ATREE has monitored amla demographics in BRT for over a decade, to understand the impacts of fruit harvest and other drivers on populations of the species. The two species of Phyllanthus, from which amla is harvested, are both small to medium sized trees—P. emblica is found in the dry-moist deciduous forest, while P. indofischeri is found in the drier scrub forest. Populations of amla have been declining in BRT, and the Forest Department has attributed this to over-harvest by Soligas. The Soligas attribute the decline in amla population to the spread of mistletoe (Taxillus tomentosus); they link the increase of this parasitic plant to fire suppression. In collaboration with Tamara Ticktin, of the University of Hawaii, ATREE colleagues, R. Ganesan and Siddappa Setty, examined the impacts of harvest, and also other disturbances that could be affecting amla populations (e.g., mistletoe, and the spread of lantana, an introduced invasive shrub)2. 2 Ticktin, T., R. Ganesan, M. Paramesha, and S. Setty. 2012. Disentangling the effects of multiple anthropogenic drivers on the decline of two tropical dry forest trees. Journal of Applied Ecology 49(4): 774–784.

Thus, restricting fruit harvest, alone, is unlikely to reverse the decline in amla populations, which are negatively affected by lantana, and more importantly, by mistletoe. The Soligas attribute the recent increase in mistletoe

Bharath Sundaram, in 2007–2008, was able to repeat a grid-based landscape-wide survey of vegetation done in 19974, to see how lantana had spread across the 540 km2 landscape of BRT. He found a dramatic increase in lantana abundance and distribution: In just a decade, lantana abundance increased from 1 in every 20 stems to 1 in every 3 stems; the spatial extent of lantana practically doubled over this period—from being present in only about 40% of

low-intensity ground fires

native species mortality

 grassy understory

lantana establishment

FIRE REGIME SHIFT

high lantana density

Lantana, a flowering shrub, was introduced to India in the early 19 th century as an ornamental and hedge plant (see Uma Shaanker & Joseph, this volume). It has since become a vigorous plant invader, and has come to dominate the understory in forests across the country. It is associated with impacts on regeneration of native species; and it drastically alters habitat structure—forming impenetrable thickets that can get to be >4 m tall. Lantana can also clamber up into tree crowns, providing ladder fuels that can carry fires into the canopy, causing mortality of adult trees. The Forest Department attributes the spread of lantana to the occurrence of human-caused fires; they reason that fire kills native vegetation and creates opportunities for lantana to establish. The Soligas, on the other hand, attribute lantana spread to fire suppression.

low lantana density

LANTANA AND FIRE



The key findings that emerged from this work were as follows. Fruit harvest did not uniformly affect amla populations. Although harvest from P. indofischeri was consistently higher than harvest from P. emblica, harvest affected P. emblica populations more than it affected P. indofischeri populations. Mistletoe, on the other hand had a much larger impact on amla, than did fruit harvest. This was presumably due to mortality of adult mistletoe-affected trees. Lantana, like fruit harvest, had an effect on amla populations, especially on the growth of young amla trees. But the striking thing was that in lantana-invaded deciduous forests—even in transects without lantana— there was reduced growth of amla seedlings and saplings. This was presumably due to increased grazing pressure in lantana-invaded forests, pointing to both direct and indirect effects of lantana on amla.

across BRT to the cessation of fire3. Our work suggests that the dramatic increase in lantana across this forest, may likewise, be linked to a change in fire management.



This work drew on 10 years of monitoring amla populations, in 17 transects, across the two forest types. All amla trees were censused annually over this 10-year period, and all new trees that were recruited (as well as old trees that died) were recorded. The number of fruits harvested per tree were also estimated every year. This 10-year period straddled the imposition of the ban on harvesting; also, during approximately the first half of this period, there was very little lantana or mistletoe in these transects. This enabled populations to be monitored under different conditions (with and without harvest; with lantana, with mistletoe, with lantana and mistletoe, and controls with neither lantana nor mistletoe). This also enabled amla population growth to be simulated under different conditions (i.e., affected by each of these drivers singly, or in combination).

high-intensity crown fires

 native species mortality

 lantana understory

3 Rist, L., R. Uma Shaanker, EJ. Milner-Gulland, and J. Ghazoul. 2010. The use of traditional ecological knowledge in forest management: an example from India. Ecology and Society 15(1): 3. 4 Murali, KS. and RS. Setty. 2001. Effect of weeds Lantana camara and Chromelina odorata growth on the species diversity, regeneration and stem density of tree and shrub layer in BRT sanctuary. Current Science 80(5): 675–678.

 lantana establishment Figure 1. A policy of fire suppression may have resulted in a regime-shift, from a forest with little lantana and frequent ‘cool’ ground fires, to a forest with dense lantana, and infrequent--but severe--crown fires. 65

the grids, to over 80% of the grids5. He was also able to examine the relative importance of a series of potential drivers in affecting this lantana spread. These drivers included historical and contemporary disturbances, the proximity to lantana-invaded neighbourhoods in the past, forest types, and fire occurrences. Part of what emerged was expected—proximity to lantana in the past best predicted where lantana would get to in the future. But while fire frequency was expected to promote lantana density, the unexpected finding was that fire occurrence seemed to limit lantana density. This matches what the Soligas have consistently maintained, and is also in keeping with recent findings from Australia, showing that fire can help control lantana. A related study in BRT showed that fire appears to kill lantana seeds in the soil—a possible mechanism by which fires control lantana6. It is likely that the strict policy of fire suppression, following BRT becoming a protected area in the 1970s, which abruptly brought to a halt the Soliga practice of annual fire management (taragu benki)7, was responsible for promoting the rapid spread of lantana and mistletoe8. Given present-day lantana densities in BRT, 5 Sundaram, B., and AJ. Hiremath. 2012. Lantana camara invasion in a heterogeneous landscape: patterns of spread and correlation with changes in native vegetation. Biological Invasions 14(6): 1127–1141. 6 Hiremath, AJ., and B. Sundaram. 2013. Invasive plant species in Indian Protected Areas: conserving biodiversity in cultural landscapes. In: Plant invasions in protected areas: patterns, problems and challenges. Invading nature - Springer Series in Invasion Ecology 7 (eds. Foxcroft, LC., P. Pyšek, DM. Richardson, and P. Genovesi). Pp. 241–266. Dordrecht: Springer. 7 Rai, N., C. Madegowda, and S. Setty. 2007. Taragu Benki: fire use by Soliga adivasis in Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Wildlife Sanctuary, Karnataka. In: Rethinking Forest fires: proceedings of the national workshop on forest fires (eds. Pai, R., A. Hiremath, and Umakant). Pp. 87–89. New Delhi: Ministry of Environment and Forests. 8 Sundaram, B., S. Krishnan, AJ. Hiremath, and G. Joseph. 2012. Ecology and impacts of the invasive species, Lantana camara, in a social-ecological system in South India: perspectives from local knowledge. Human Ecology 40(6): 931–942.

however, it would be impossible to re-introduce fire as a management practice without a prior reduction in flammable fuel (see Figure 1).

SOLIGA AND CULTURAL FOREST LINKAGES The idea that forests are pristine, and that wilderness areas without people existed in the past, has little basis or evidence. The forests of BRT, for instance, have not only been used and managed as we described above, but have also been spaces of cultural practice. Such cultural practice and historical connections to the landscape have not been represented in current understanding of the forest area, resulting in the Soligas being seen merely as deterrents of conservation success. In order to rectify the existing bias about historical Soliga claims to the landscape, a collaborative mapping effort was initiated between ATREE and the Soliga Abhivruddhi Sangha (SAS), in 2008. The effort included documenting practices, mapping clan boundaries, locating and recording names of forest patches, and mapping forest categories. The goal of the effort was to use these as evidence to claim rights under the Forest Rights Act (FRA), as well as to assist in evolving local systems of forest management. The mapping located 469 cultural sites in the 540 km2 area of BRT. The team relied on the expert knowledge of Soliga elders, who located sites in the landscape. Often, the locations of certain sites were known to few Soligas, due to sites being clan-specific, and seldom visited as a result of displacement following the notification of BRT as a wildlife sanctuary in 1974. The map that was finally produced, in 2010, shows the landscape as being demarcated into yelles. Each yelle contains five sacred sites that are specific to a kula (clan), and are protected and guided by the presence of gods and spirits. Yelles are thus kula-specific boundaries within which forest areas have been named. Yelles are cultural areas and 66

Figure 2. A ‘counter map’ showing sites and areas of cultural importance for Soligas in Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve, Karnataka. 67

are not territorial. There are 46 yelles in BRT. Soligas name places within the forest, making it possible for them to orally map the extent of each yelle. One Soliga remarked that just as urban dwellers have names for streets in their city, Soligas have names for sites within the forest. The resulting map has been printed and widely distributed, and has also been used as evidence to claim rights over forest use and management (see Figure 2)9. Ethnographic and counter-mapping work in BRT makes it very evident, that the entire area of forest has been influenced and managed by the Soligas for centuries. It is also apparent from our long-term research in BRT, that the effects of NTFP harvesting are not inevitably detrimental. More surprisingly, what may have been detrimental was the well-meaning, but ecologically uninformed, cessation of traditional fire management by the Soligas, coincident with BRT becoming a protected area in the 1970s. Evidence is accumulating to suggest that this abrupt change in management is possibly linked to the spread of mistletoe and lantana, both of which are now negatively affecting forest composition. Historical management of BRT by hand and flame has produced a forest that continues to hold significant levels of biological diversity, including a healthy population of tigers. In fact, it is this recognition of the existence of a healthy tiger population in BRT—centuries of coexistence with the Soligas, notwithstanding—that underlies its recent declaration as a tiger reserve. To us, this makes a compelling case for the possibility of an alternative approach to conservation—one that is not premised on the absolute need for inviolate areas, but provides space for coexistence and inclusion. This would 9

Mandal, S., ND. Rai, and C. Madegowda. 2010. Culture, conservation and co-management: strengthening Soliga stake in biodiversity conservation in Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Wildlife Sanctuary, India. In: Sacred natural sites: conserving nature and culture (eds. Verschuuren, B., R. Wild, JA. McNeely, and G. Oviedo). Pp. 263–271. London: Earthscan, Routledge.

not only be ecologically relevant, but also socially just. The enactment of the Forest Right Act, in 2006, provides the necessary legal space for such an alternative approach.

THE FOREST RIGHTS ACT The Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Rights) Act (also known as the Forest Rights Act or FRA) was enacted in 2006 to redress the historic denial of rights to adivasis and other forest dwellers, the settlement of which, though also provided for in earlier conservation legislation, was not done in practice. The FRA aims to grant tribal, and other forest dwelling communities, rights to land for habitation and cultivation, as well as other rights, including the right to forest produce, and the ‘right to protect, regenerate, conserve or manage forest resources’, and other customary rights such as grazing, fishing, and intellectual property. The Ministry of Tribal Affairs (MoTA) is responsible for implementation of the FRA, while the MoEF&CC controls forest land and is thus a major stakeholder in the rights granting process. In BRT, community rights were granted to 25 Gram Sabhas within the tiger reserve on 2 October 2011. The rights awarded range from NTFP collection, to fishing, grazing, forest conservation, and cultural practice at sacred sites. These comprehensive community forest rights have followed individual rights to cultivated land, which were granted to 1,516 Soliga households over the course of the previous year. While these rights give Gram Sabhas in BRT the ability to manage and use the forest, in reality, the Forest Department has not allowed them to exercise any of these rights. The reason for this is the very stringent implementation of the WLPA by the Forest Department, based on the premise that any use of the forest will affect tiger numbers, and hence, decrease the effectiveness of the reserve. The 68

The prominent white cliff that dominates the landscape of the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve. (Photo: Kalyan Varma)

A CASE FOR CONTINUED COEXISTENCE

struggle is over the control of the BRT landscape. Any ceding of space for use and management by Soligas is perceived as an erosion of control of the Forest Department, which relies on complete control of landscapes to implement its single-minded view of conservation. The renewed protection of tigers, the increase in surveillance of people, and the reliance on tiger numbers to assess the success of conservation, are coming in the way of the implementation of the FRA, and the exercise of rights that were legally and painstakingly obtained, after years of struggle.

From the 19th century, Indian forest administrations have premised policy on the idea, that local forest users cause irreversible damage to the forest. The idyll of pristine wilderness and protected areas, transplanted from the West, have only reinforced the belief that coexistence is not possible. In contrast to conventional understanding, recent studies demonstrate that wildlife and humans can, and do, coexist at fine spatial scales, whether 69

it be tigers in and around Chitwan National Park in Nepal, or leopards in agricultural landscapes of western Maharashtra. Forest policy in India is silent on the possibility of collaborative management of protected areas by local communities and forest departments. The WLPA does not identify a role for local communities in protected area management. The lessons that have emerged for us, from work over more than 15 years, are that landscapes like BRT have a long history of human presence and cultural attachment. These are not natural systems in the strict sense of the term, but are really novel ecosystems shaped by long human use—harvest, hunting, fire. Thus, rather than strict protection, management must engage with the ecological and cultural histories of these landscapes. Not to do so can result in unexpected ecological outcomes, apart from alienating communities that have had long-standing ties to these landscapes. BRT is only one example of numerous such historical and cultural landscapes in India. The FRA is a landmark conservation legislation, which creates space for an alternative to strict protection, and allowing for adaptive management that can engage with this history. Given the country’s diversity—ecological, cultural, and historical—we need a plurality of approaches; there cannot be a one-size-fitsall of strict nature protection. This has had mixed success so far, apart from being logistically impractical, undemocratic, and denying human dignity. And it is unlikely to serve the cause of conservation in the long term.

by Siddappa Setty, R. Ganesan, Bharath Sundaram, and other ATREE colleagues and collaborators too numerous to name here. The work would not have been possible without the support of the Soliga Abhivruddhi Sangha. The Karnataka Forest Department granted permission for the research over the years. We would like to thank the Royal Norwegian Embassy, Dorabji Tata Trust, Department of Science and Technology, and International Foundation for Science for funding support. Further Reading Bijoy, CR. 2011. The Great Indian Tiger Show. Economic & Political Weekly XLVI(4): 36–41. Brockington, D. 2002. Fortress Conservation: the preservation of the Mkomazi Game Reserve, Tanzania. Oxford: James Currey. Johari, R. 2007. Of paper tigers and invisible people: the cultural politics of nature in Sariska. In: Making conservation work: Towards innovative strategies for securing biodiversity in India (eds. Shahabuddin, G. and M. Rangarajan). Pp. 48–77. New Delhi: Permanent Black. Williams, M. 2006. Deforesting the Earth: from prehistory to global crisis, an abridgement. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Acknowledgements Vasant Saberwal and Ajit Menon provided comments on a very early draft. Many ideas in this paper build on work done 70

Ecosystems in Transition

Rainforest dynamics in a changing world: Monitoring plants, animals and climate at Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve, Tamil Nadu T. Ganesh, Soubadra Devy M. and R. Ganesan

An emergent crown of Calophyllum austroindicum covered in flowers. This tree flowers only once in several years in the rainforests of Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve. (Photo: R. Ganesan) 72

Introduction

in completely novel assemblages of species. Some species are better able to adapt to these changes, others not. However, we have very little understanding of how changing climate is affecting these tropical rainforests and their plant-animal relationships, because these changes happen very slowly, over several years to decades.

Tropical rainforests are considered a seemingly unchanging tapestry of green, humming with life, and always warm, wet, and humid through the year. Their drier counterparts, tropical dry forests, on the other hand, show marked seasonal changes, from being leafless and drab in the summer, to an exuberance of colour during the spring. But these apparently unvarying rainforests also experience seasons, though they are not as obvious as in the dry forest. There are flowering and fruiting seasons during the year. (The patterns of flowering and fruiting, and the study of these patterns, is called phenology.) More interestingly, there are huge variations in flowering and fruiting between years—years of very little flowering or fruiting, followed by years of plenty (a phenomenon referred to as masting). How do species that depend on flowers and fruits in the forest—the nectar-feeding pollinators, and the fruit-eating seed dispersers—deal with these variations? And what are the likely effects of global climate change on these plant-animal interactions? These are questions that fascinate rainforest ecologists.

KMTR: THE LAST BASTION OF UNALTERED FORESTS

Globally, with the climate becoming progressively warmer, and rains becoming erratic, flowering and fruiting phenology could also change. For example, in temperate regions it has already been observed that buds are opening earlier than normal, affecting the movement of pollinators. Similar changes in flowering phenology in tropical forests could disrupt the relationships between plants and their animal pollinators, in turn leading to failure in pollination and poor fruit production, and creating a scarcity of food resources for a variety of species in the rainforest. Another observed effect of climate change is that plants and animals are gradually moving pole-ward at higher latitudes, while in the tropics they are starting to migrate up the mountains. And since not all plants and animals move at the same rate, this may result

In the early 1990s, a group of us (then students, ably encouraged by our professors, and inspired by the Smithsonian Institution’s long-term work in the rainforests of Panama) established a programme to monitor tropical rainforest phenology, and set up permanent vegetation plots to monitor how plants regenerate, grow, and die. All this was done in a beautiful patch of rainforest with its full complement of plants and animals in the Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve (KMTR) in Tamil Nadu. This site is perhaps one of the last remaining intact evergreen wet forests in the Western Ghats and is situated in the southernmost part of the Ghats. It is unique in many ways—it has many endemic species of plants, which can be attributed to the prolonged wet season. It receives rain from both the southwest and northeast monsoons. Fauna-wise, 73

While major phenological events of commercial crops like mango, tamarind, or apples have been recorded and described, little has been written about changes in the rainforest. Long-term monitoring of such events becomes necessary, and especially if this monitoring is also linked to understanding how plants regenerate and survive, it could provide insights into how rainforests work. Unfortunately, such ‘data’ are scarce in many parts of the world and are almost non-existent in India, as it is hard to collect such data on a continuous basis. It requires a long-term commitment to a place, and resources to sustain the work.

it remains the southernmost habitat of the tiger on the Indian subcontinent, and is also home to two magnificent primate species, the lion-tailed macaque and the Nilgiri langur. It is one among the few sites in India where arboreal mammals are not hunted, and all species found in the area are present in good numbers. We tagged over 820 individual trees, belonging to 70 species, to follow their phenology. The trees were distributed in two sites—one site was in the core area of the reserve, with negligible disturbance, and the other site was one that had been partially logged in the past. The comparison of phenology patterns between the two sites was to help us understand the effects of microclimatic variations on phenology, and subsequently to also help us understand how trees respond to climate change. Since 1991, we have checked each one of the tagged trees every month to see if they were flushing new leaves, or if they were flowering, or fruiting. We also set up three 1 ha plots to follow the growth (and death) of plants. All the trees

in these plots were tagged with a unique number. Since 1994, we have censused the trees in the plots once every 5 years to check if they are still alive, if they have added to their girth, or if they have died since the previous census. At each census, we have also recorded (and tagged) all the new trees that have recruited (been born) since the last plot-census. In addition, we have monitored pollinators by counting beehives at specific locations, and by estimating bird and arboreal mammal abundances in the area. Thus began a long journey with the trees, and the associated animals, that led to a unique dataset on rainforest ecology in India. This longterm dataset is now being curated, analysed, and archived. This will give us an opportunity to unravel complex patterns and processes, and to understand the role of climate in structuring this unique forest, rich in endemic tree species and animals, and one that has remained relatively undisturbed. Here, we present a few learnings from the ongoing analysis, which highlights `what would have been missed’ had we not monitored this forest for so long.

Synchronous fruiting of the canopy tree, Palaquium ellipticum, leads to a carpet of seedlings on the forest floor a year later in the rainforests of Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve. (Photo: R. Ganesan) 74

Figure 1. Percentage of trees of Calophyllum (upper panel) and Palaquium (lower panel) in fruit in the rainforest of KMTR from 1991–1996. The figures show Calophyllum fruiting irregularly across the 6 years while Palaquium fruits regularly each year. Notice that for both the species, 100% of trees fruited only once in the 6 years. This masting event has several implications as discussed in the text. censused in 1999, we did not record the high seedling recruitment that we had anticipated.

EPISODIC AND MYSTERIOUS One general pattern that emerged from this forest was that only a subset of tree species flowered annually. Others either flowered supra-annually (i.e., once in many years), or staggered their flowering spatially (with different individuals of the species flowering at different times). Both of these patterns can have implications for regeneration of the species. For instance, as one walks through these forests one cannot miss out the distinctly yellow-crocodile-barked, massively girthed tree, Pinnai (Calophyllum austroindicum). Although we have observed sporadic and sparse flowering and fruiting of this species in certain years, it was only in the year 1995 that there was mass flowering with even the younger individuals getting bedecked (see Figure 1), and this was followed by fruiting the following year. However, when our vegetation plot was 75

One of the major reasons for seeds not transitioning to seedlings (the next step in a plant’s lifecycle) in this forest is because many seeds get eaten by ‘seed predators,’ such as arboreal mammals, and Calophyllum was no exception1. However, it is thought that the reason trees produce thousands of seeds in some years is to satiate such predators so that a few seeds can escape being eaten and establish as seedlings. Did predator satiation not happen for Calophyllum? Or were there probably other reasons? Were our plots too few to capture the tree’s recruitment as Calophyllum is not 1 Ganesh, T. and P. Davidar. 2005. Fruiting phenology and pre-dispersal seed predation in a rainforest in southern Western Ghats, India. In: Tropical fruits and frugivores: the search for strong interactors (eds. Lawrence DJ. and JP. Boubli). Pp. 137–152. Netherlands: Springer.

Megha Vishwanath

Figure 2: The total rainfall during the dry months of February and March, across 18 years (1987–2015), in the evergreen forests of KMTR. There is a general trend of increase in the first dry season rain, which coincides with the flowering of Cullenia exarillata. The flowers of Cullenia develop a fungus when the dry season turns wet and there are inadequate visitors to the flowers, leading to reduced fruits on the tree. a very common tree in the forest? Will the dramatic loss of seedlings during the masting year make Calophyllum sparser in the forest in future? These questions remain unanswered and require detailed analysis of the data. In a similar vein, Paalodi (Palaquium ellipticum) is a key tree species that attracts the seasonal rock honeybee (Apis dorsata) to its flowers and to the site right at the end of summer. The bees pollinate the flowers of Palaquium in addition to those of several other tree species that also flower during that time. Palaquium shows tremendous inter-year variation in the flowering intensity, which is closely reflected in the Apis dorsata hive density at the site2,3. Among the many arboreal mammals that 2

Devy, MS. 1998. Pollination of canopy and sub-canopy trees by social bees in a wet evergreen forest of southern Western Ghats, India. Ph.D. thesis. Madras University, Chennai, India.

Devy, MS. and Davidar, P. 2003. Pollination systems of trees in Kakachi, a mid-elevation wet evergreen forest in Western Ghats, India. American Journal of Botany 90(4): 650–657.

eat the fruits of Palaquium, only a couple of bat species are the major dispersers. In 1994, there was a major masting of Palaquium (all individuals of the species fruited together; see Figure 1), which attracted thousands of bats into the forests. These bats ate the fruit and dispersed the seeds, leading to a carpet of seedlings following the rains. Over 25 years of monitoring, we are yet to witness another episode that has occurred at such a large spatial scale. Several smaller peak or minor masting events have occurred even as recently as 2015, but all of these were localised, and restricted to a smaller area. How did the 1994 masting impact regeneration of the species? The carpet of Palaquium seedlings following the mast fruiting in 1994 eventually got thinned out, largely due to attack by fungal diseases (or ‘pathogens’), but a small proportion of seedlings survived. We speculate that in a masting year, the sheer quantity of flowers leads to a greater bee-aided transfer of pollen between trees (in the masting year 76

there was an exceptionally high number of beehives). This greater opportunity for cross-pollination could result in the production of genetically better-endowed seeds due to a greater exchange of genetic material than in non-masting years. Palaquium, unlike Calophyllum, is an annually fruiting species and therefore there is some seedling recruitment each year. But perhaps the seedlings from a mass fruiting year, even if fewer, are better adapted to survive? These are all speculations, as there could also be other external factors such as excess rain or lack of it, or higher temperatures that could increase pathogenic attack, or even insect outbreaks, which could control recruitment. We are trying to understand these complexities with more nuanced analysis, which is in progress. Such asynchrony in plant reproduction within species is very common in KMTR and what drives such patterns are challenging questions we have only just begun to address. The events described above did not occur every year, not even over a couple of years, and we would have missed them if there were no regular long-term monitoring of phenology in place. This is especially true for Calophyllum as there was no evidence of a ‘carpet of seed77

lings’ in the forests post-masting, unlike in the case of Palaquium. The fact that masting of these two species was observed just once over a 20-year period only further accentuates the need for long-term monitoring.

CULLENIA – THE WOES OF SUMMER RAIN Vedipla (Cullenia exarillata), a canopy species, is characterised by a unique pollination system. Cullenia produces flowers directly on its woody branches. These flowers are eaten by several canopy mammals and birds, some of which also help in their pollination. The flowering season of Cullenia coincides with the period of fruit scarcity in the forests, and hence its flowers become important keystone resources for arboreal mammals4. Our observations of Cullenia flowering revealed that, in degraded and fragmented forests, there are fewer visits by arboreal mammals to the flowers, which sometimes leads to fewer fruits being produced. This is 4

Ganesh, T. and MS. Devy. 2006. Interactions between non-flying mammals and Cullenia exarillata, a canopy tree from the wet forest of Western Ghats. Current Science: 90(12): 1674–1679.

often due to the unattended flowers, which are laden with sucrose-rich nectar, developing fungal infections, leading to the flowers rotting on the branch. This could be exacerbated if rains occur during the flowering period. To test the effect of unseasonal rains during the dry season, we simulated rain over the flowers using a sprayer, and tagged these flowers (and others that had not been sprayed with water) to be followed up to fruit set. Not surprisingly the ‘watered’ flowers in most cases developed a fungus; as a result, no visitors came and no fruits were produced. As highlighted in the previous section, species may flower and fruit every year but there are episodes of mass fruiting or flowering that can go unnoticed unless one has a systematic

long-term monitoring programme in place. In the case of Cullenia it took an experimental study of a few years to show how excess ‘rain’ could lead to less fruits. But knowing how consistent these ‘effects’ are needs more detailed long-term work. The long-term weather data available for the site can be linked to such potential effects. For instance, in recent years the dry season at this site appears to be getting more wet (Figure 2). This could affect fruit production in Cullenia, and possibly in other species that flower during this time. Thus, forest degradation, compounded by a changing rainfall regime, could potentially affect the reproduction of Cullenia. Clearly, responses of species to climate change can be variable, and can be linked to the flowering and fruiting behavior of the species, as evidenced in KMTR. Unraveling linkages between climate anomalies or shifts, and the growth of plants—and perhaps more importantly—the linkages between climate change and plant phenology, their interactions with animals, and in turn, their recruitment, will help us predict if these populations will grow or shrink. However, the even bigger challenge of our ongoing analysis will be to understand the response of the whole ecosystem to different climate change scenarios based on ecological traits of various species. The detailed analysis of the long-term data

Looking down on the rainforest canopy in Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve. (Photo: R. Ganesan) will help us with some of these intricacies and possibly give us a better understanding of rainforest dynamics in the Western Ghats.

Dew, JL and JP. Boubli. (eds.). 2005. Tropical fruits and frugivores: the search for strong interactors. Netherlands: Springer.

Further Reading

Umapathy, G. and A. Kumar. 2000. Impacts of the habitat fragmentation on time budget and feeding ecology of lion-tailed macaque (Macaca silenus) in rain forest fragments of Anamalai Hills, South India. Primate Report 58: 67-82.

Corlett, RT. 2014. The impacts of climate change in the tropics. In: State of the tropics. Australia: James Cook University.

INTRODUCTION India has varied freshwater habitats ranging from rivers to high altitude lakes to man-made ecosystems such as paddy fields, ponds and reservoirs. Freshwater ecosystems are unique habitats for endemic and fragile flora and fauna, e.g., large Indian rivers harbour small populations of endangered river dolphins, gharial, freshwater oysters, etc., and streams and waterfalls harbour endemic snails such as species in the genera Paracrostoma and Cremnoconchus. These freshwater ecosystems also provide a range of ecosystem services. People depend on these systems for domestic water requirements, food, livelihood, navigation, waste assimilation, health, and for various cultural practices. Over the years, human dependence on freshwater ecosystems has rapidly increased, making these ecosystems and their biodiversity among the most threatened in the world. Conservation of freshwater biodiversity in India is still in its infancy.

Navigating murky waters: Challenges and approaches for conservation planning of freshwater ecosystems of India Aravind NA., Madhushree Munsi and Roshmi Rekha Sarma

The Western Ghats and Eastern Himalayas, with their high species richness and endemism across both terrestrial and freshwater habitats, are considered biodiversity hotspots. However, the freshwater habitats in these regions, as elsewhere, are threatened by over-exploitation, poaching, pollution, habitat degradation and destruction, species invasion, and flow modification. Only 13% of the geographical area of the Western Ghats is conserved in the form of Protected Areas (PA), but these are mostly biased towards charismatic terrestrial animals like the tiger or elephant1. There are traditional practices (e.g., associated with TodiKan Temple near Sullia and Sringeri Temple, in Karnataka) that 1 Uma Shaanker, R., NA. Aravind and KN. Ganeshaiah. 2004. Forest management for conservation. In: Encyclopedia of Forest Science (eds. Burley, J.J.L., J. Evans and J. Youngquist) Volume II. Pp: 215–224. London, UK: Elsevier Science.

help in protecting endangered fish like Mahseer, but there are no conservation efforts specifically focused on freshwater habitats in this biodiversity-rich region. For the country, as a whole, there are a few freshwater-specific conservation efforts. But these, like terrestrial PAs, are also biased towards larger animals: the Vikramshila Gangetic Dolphin Sanctuary in Bhagalpur, Bihar, is the only existing sanctuary specially designated to protect the Ganges river dolphin; the Ken-Gharial and Son-Gharial Sanctuaries are managed for conservation of gharial and mugger; and there are a few aquatic bird sanctuaries across India, e.g., Keoladeo National Park, Ranganatittu Bird Sanctuary, and Attiveri Bird Sanctuary. Our review suggests there is need for extending the scope of conservation towards better representation of freshwater ecosystems and their biodiversity. We review challenges and approaches in conservation planning for freshwater ecosystems of India based on our experience of working on freshwater ecology and conservation, especially in the Western Ghats.

THREATS TO FRESHWATER HABITATS IN INDIA Although accurate data on freshwater habitat loss across the country are not available, there are estimates for certain regions. The Wildlife Institute of India’s survey of the Gangetic flood plains reveals that 70–80% of freshwater marshes and lakes have been lost in the last five decades. A notable example is from Bengaluru, which was once dotted with a large number of lakes; these have been reduced by 70% in the last five decades (from 262 in 1960 to just 81 in 2010). Pollution is a growing threat to freshwater ecosystems. Much of the pollution is from

Facing page: Eutrophication of Dal lake ecosystem in Srinagar due to excessive organic pollution from houseboats and urban runoff. (Photo: Aravind NA) 80

clam, Pseudomulleria dalyii. The impacts of mini hydel projects, supposedly ‘environmental friendly,’ also need to be assessed.

Cremnoconchus syhadrensis, an endemic freshwater mollusk found in waterfalls of Northern Western Ghats. (Photo: Aravind NA) domestic sewage. For example, the waterfalls near Mahabaleshwar, which is supposed to be the type locality of Cremnoconchus conicus (a freshwater snail) are filled with city sewage2. A similar situation is seen in Gokak falls in Karnataka, and it is no different with other water bodies across the country. Apart from this, countless tanneries, chemical plants, textile mills, distilleries, slaughterhouses, hospitals, and idol submersion during festive seasons contribute to the pollution of freshwater habitats by dumping untreated toxic and non-biodegradable waste into them. This is causing irreparable damage to these ecosystems and their biodiversity. According to a recent study, pollution affects 50% of fish, 20% of molluscs (snails, clams, etc.) and 21% of odonates (dragonflies, damselflies). Dams are another threat to freshwater ecosystems. There are nearly 5,000 large dams (height of 10 m or more) across the country. Impacts of dams on biodiversity and hydrology are well studied. Recent increase in the dam height across River Thunga, near Shimoga, has submerged one of the only five surviving population of the endangered freshwater 2

Reid, DG., NA. Aravind and NA. Madhyastha. 2013. A unique radiation of marine littorinid snails in the freshwater streams of the Western Ghats of India: the genus Cremnoconchus W.T. Blanford, 1869 (Gastropoda: Littorinidae). Zoological Journal of Linnaean Society 167: 93–135.

With growing urbanisation, land conversion is increasingly threatening freshwater habitats. Wetlands, which are considered as “wastelands,” have been drained and transformed, e.g., to create a special economic zone in Kolkata, or for shrimp farming in estuarine wetlands in coastal Karnataka. Illegal sand mining to cater to the growing demand for development also impacts aquatic life, especially bottom-dwelling (benthic) organisms, e.g., clams (Arcidopsis footei, Parryesia spp, Lamellidens spp), fish (loaches) and shrimps. Indiscriminate harvesting of fish, soft-shell turtles, freshwater molluscs (snails and clams), and aquatic plants are also a major threat. Invasive species are considered one of the biggest threat to biodiversity. However, detailed information about the impacts of invasive species on aquatic biodiversity is lacking in India. Some localised examples are available from different parts of the country, e.g., we have found that the introduced grass carp has replaced native trout in the Dal Lake, in Kashmir, and now forms 70% of the total catch.

CONSERVATION CHALLENGES The challenges for prioritising freshwater conservation areas in India are complex. Systematic conservation planning was pioneered for terrestrial ecosystems, but studies have shown that terrestrial conservation planning might not work all the time for freshwater ecosystems. One significant way in which these ecosystems differ is in the connectivity of freshwater systems—the river continuum. Any upstream disturbance will have ramifications for downstream stretches. Hence, a comprehensive plan is required which includes a full range of species, processes, ecosystems, and human elements in a study region. 82

Tsogmo Lake, a high altitude lake in Sikkim. (Photo: Aravind NA) Further, the methods used to identify important sites for conservation of freshwater environments are based on species richness and endemism. Ironically, vertebrate communities (e.g., birds and amphibians)3 have traditionally been used to identify priority areas for conservation of freshwater ecosystems, even though invertebrates (e.g., snails, clams, insects, worms, etc.) represent around 86% of known freshwater fauna. Finally, much of the biodiversity of freshwater ecosystems comes from many range-restricted species like freshwater molluscs and amphibians and separate approaches are required to conserve them as compared to large-ranging animals like tigers and elephants. We examine some of the main challenges to conservation planning for freshwater ecosystems in India. Data deficiency Data deficiency is the major hurdle for any efficient conservation. Except for certain groups, for the majority, information on the distribution and threat status is seriously lacking. For example, the Western Ghats and Eastern Himalayas are unique places for amphibian diversification with unique lineages and endemism of almost 90%. But inventories are either lacking, 3

Das, A., J. Krishnaswamy, KS. Bawa, MC. Kiran, V. Srinivas, NS. Kumar, and K.U. Karanth. 2006. Prioritisation of conservation areas in the Western Ghats, India. Biological Conservation 133: 16–31.

or incomplete, for all other groups of aquatic species, especially lower invertebrates and plants. The highest number of ‘Data Deficient’ species is found in freshwater molluscs, arthropods and other lower taxa. A recent Red-List assessment for the Western Ghats and Eastern Himalayan freshwater biodiversity showed that, for freshwater molluscs, 60% of species were assessed as data deficient and this figure is even higher for other invertebrate taxa. Many species are known only from their type locality or from a few locations4. Only 2,846 freshwater species from India have been assessed for The International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN) red listing. Out of these, 1,146 species are from the Western Ghats, and 16% are threatened with extinction. The highest numbers of threatened species are represented in fish and the lowest in freshwater molluscs. Much less is known about other freshwater taxa. Policy gaps and implementation There are 128 water related policies in India at central and state levels, most of which are 4 Aravind, NA., NA. Madhyastha, GM. Rajendra, and A. Dey. 2011. The status and distribution of freshwater molluscs of the Western Ghats. In: The status and distribution of freshwater biodiversity in the Western Ghats, India (compilers. Molur, S., K.G. Smith, B.A. Daniel, and W.R.T. Darwall) Pp. 59–72. Cambridge, UK and Gland, Switzerland: IUCN, and Coimbatore, India: Zoo Outreach Organisation.

biased towards extracting services for human use without considering the role of biodiversity in maintaining those services. There are a few policies that deal with biodiversity conservation, but these mostly focus on terrestrial habitats. The Indian Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, which lists species that need protection, is either outdated or biased towards charismatic taxa. Many threatened and endemic freshwater species are not included. Hence, there is a need to update this act to include threatened freshwater taxa as well. Effective implementation of existing laws and policies on the ground is another major issue that needs to be addressed. The main reason for hurdles to this are the multiple stakeholders involved in managing freshwater resources in India. For example, freshwater systems within PAs are under the forest department, whereas those outside PAs are used as common pool resources; all those freshwater systems in revenue lands, such as ponds, tanks, and marshes, are under the control of the revenue department; reservoir fisheries are under the fisheries department, and so on. Given this, there is a lot of ambiguity about who does what and who is responsible for what, thus hindering implementation of policies. Our recent review of some of the policies shows that there are contradictions between state and central laws, which could also affect

policy implementation. For example, the Wetland Rules, 2010, at the central level and the Wetland Acts at state levels have separate aims. While the Wetland Rules, 2010, talks about conservation of all wetlands and lists prohibited and restricted activities, the wetland policies of Kerala and Manipur promote paddy fields (as wetlands) to improve paddy cultivation for food security.

2) Evaluate current impacts and future threats

Economic value Freshwater habitats provide a range of ecosystem services and benefits, both direct and indirect. There are several global studies that have shown that biodiversity plays an important role in maintaining these ecosystem services and thus livelihoods. Economic valuation of these services, especially indirect services (e.g. regulation of biogeochemical cycles, food webs, nutrient cycling, etc.) is difficult. Understanding the economic value of the goods and services provided by freshwater systems could help in managing these resources and could be incorporated into conservation planning.

APPROACHES TO CONSERVATION PLANNING Following are the steps ideally followed in any conservation planning effort worldwide. We have followed some of the approaches listed below for prioritising freshwater habitats in the Western Ghats, which can be applied for other parts of the country as well. 1) Plan for effective and sustained implementation

Harvesting of weeds from Dal lake to make organic manure. (Photo: Aravind NA)

Conservation Reserve, and ATREEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work in setting up the Vagaikulum Community Reserve for aquatic birds, both in Tamil Nadu, have shown the possibility for coexistence between wildlife and humans. For other areas, one can think of a catchment-based approach, which encompasses both terrestrial and freshwater habitats.

Freshwater ecosystems are largely modified to suit human needs; thus, it is essential that cultural, economic, political and social (livelihoods) aspects be considered while planning. The aim is to create a balance between biodiversity conservation and livelihoods through sustainable use of resources. 84

Myristica fatuva is an endemic tree restricted to Myristica swamps of southern and central Western Ghats. (Photo: Aravind NA) Institutions play an important role in implementation, monitoring and management of resources. Involvement of local stakeholders is very crucial for better management. Incentives for sustainable resource use can help in managing resources and improve livelihood options. Studies in Bengaluru have shown that involving communities can also help in better implementation of these legal frameworks and monitoring of resources. A notable example is Kaikondrahalli Lake in Bengaluru, which is managed by local residents along with a variety of stakeholders to maintain the lake for both conservation and social activities. This has been seen as a new approach for management and governance in the urban context 5. Community Conservation Areas or Community Reserves (both of which are categories of community managed reserves) can be better options to conserving freshwater ecosystems than strictly protected areas because alienating communities can be counterproductive to conservation, as has been shown in the case of terrestrial PAs. The Tiruvidaimarudur

One of the biggest gaps in our knowledge is the lack of quantitative information on threats that freshwater ecosystems are experiencing. We have made a beginning in mapping the threats to freshwater habitats at the national level6. We have mapped all major dams across rivers in India. We have also developed a resource-use map for the whole country. We have assessed the impact of different threats at the level of the Western Ghats, for freshwater molluscs, especially those that are found in streams and waterfalls7; for other taxa, information is not available. There is not much information on the distribution of invasive species and their impact on local biodiversity. At ATREE we are trying to overcome this lack of information using a citizen science initiative implemented via the India Biodiversity Portal to determine the distributions of six aquatic invasive species: water hyacinth, Pistia, Salvinia, Potamogeton, Myriophyllum, and Tilapia. We have used a species distribution modeling approach to predict both current and future distributions of these species. This information can help us to identify regions of high vulnerability to invasion for better management. 6 Munsi, M. 2017. Prioritizing freshwater habitats for biodiversity in India. Ph.D. thesis. Manipal University, Manipal. India. 7 Aravind, NA., RR. Sarma, and NA. Madhyastha. 2016. Conservation of Cremnoconchus, an iconic freshwater gastropod genus of the Western Ghats, India. Current Science 111(6): 1097â&#x20AC;&#x201C;1113.

Nagendra, H. 2016. Restoration of the Kaikondrahalli Lake in Bangalore: forging a new urban commons. Pune, Maharashtra: Kalpavriksh.

WAY FORWARD

Data on existing water use or water abstraction for the entire country is lacking. Water abstraction seems to be one of the greatest threats to sedentary biodiversity, especially endemic clams (e.g., Arcidopsis footei, and Pseudomulleria dalyii, both endemic to Thunga and Bhadra rivers in the Central Western Ghats). We have seen hundreds of dead clams in Thunga and Bhadra rivers due to check dams and water abstraction. We have also seen numerous dead clams in lakes in Bengaluru that have been drained for desiltation. 3) Set quantitative conservation targets For conservation of biodiversity, targets need to be identified based on quantitative criteria that can be applied consistently across landscapes or regions. We assessed the status of freshwater biodiversity of Eastern Himalaya and the Western Ghats for the IUCN Red List. The assessment shows that India has nearly 340 threatened freshwater species. The most threatened group of species is fish and the least threatened is freshwater molluscs. Using this information and information for other freshwater biodiversity, key biodiversity areas have been identified in the Western Ghats and Eastern Himalaya. In addition, recently, we developed a protocol and identified regions (river sub-basins) of high conservation value using species richness and species status (i.e., numbers of threatened and endemic species), along with physical and threat maps, for identifying conservation targets for the entire country. 4) Plan for persistence Long-term persistence of species and habitats is one of the key features of any conservation planning exercise. It is important to incorporate upstream-downstream connectivity to ensure animal movement and gene transfer. For example, for Cremnoconchus species and stream dwelling frogs (e.g., the genus Nyctibatrachus), which spend their entire life-cycle in a single

Jog falls, in the central Western Ghats, is one of the largest waterfalls in South India. The water flow during summer months is reduced due to the dam in upper reaches of the river Sharavathi. (Photo: Aravind NA) water body, this connectivity becomes crucially important to maintain genetic diversity, as it is the only avenue for gene flow. We are studying how connectivity is critical in maintaining genetic diversity between upstream and downstream populations in a stream dwelling frog. Restoration of key habitats in the landscape, such as Myristica swamps, will also enhance the connectivity between upstream and downstream stretches and thus help in maintaining genetic diversity between populations. 5) Plan for representation of freshwater biodiversity Terrestrial protected areas are typically inadequate for the conservation of freshwater biota even though there is some degree of concordance between terrestrial and freshwater biodiversity. Conservation area networks should try to integrate terrestrial and freshwater conservation plans. For example, Aganashini Conservation Reserve, near Jog Falls in Central Western Ghats, dedicated to the charismatic Lion-tailed macaque, has a large number of threatened freshwater Myristica swamps and is also the type locality for a freshwater mollusc (Cremnoconchus) and the Kumbara night frog (Nyctibatrchus kumbara). 86

success for any conservation planning exercise. Finally, a watershed or catchment-based approach for planning and resource management would be an effective protection and restoration strategy for aquatic ecosystems, as they are interconnected.

A holistic approach to conservation and management of freshwater habitat is needed for India. The condition of freshwater ecosystems and their biodiversity is declining at an alarming rate due to lack of data and informed policy making. Given the severe limitations on resources, conservation actions must be carefully planned to ensure maximum impact. Freshwater systems form a part of complex socio-ecological systems and thus, the challenges for conservation of freshwater biodiversity are more numerous than for conservation of terrestrial biodiversity. In dataand resource-constrained countries like India, expert judgment coupled with a target-driven systematic conservation planning approach could lead to very substantial planning and conservation gains. Also, actively engaging stakeholders is important. Community involvement needs to be promoted, thereby empowering and motivating resource users to conserve and wisely use biological resources. This could be in the form of reinforcing existing efforts and increasing the capacity of various stakeholders. For example, fish sanctuaries, known as Matsyathavalams, have been set up in Vembanad Lake in Kerala to facilitate breeding of native fish by small groups of local fishermen in a public-private participatory model, an initiative by ATREE that has been well received.

Molur, S., KG. Smith, BA. Daniel and WRT. Darwall (Compilers). 2011. The status and distribution of freshwater biodiversity in the Western Ghats, India. Cambridge, UK and Gland, Switzerland: IUCN, and Coimbatore, India: Zoo Outreach Organisation, Pp. 59–72.

The high biodiversity outside the PA network should also be targeted. Integrating several disciplines, including ecology, conservation biology, socio-economics, hydrology, water quality, and engineering would be the key to

Nel, JL, DJ. Roux, R. Abell, PJ. Ashton, RM. Cowling, JV. Higgins, M. Thieme, et al. 2009. Progress and challenges in freshwater conservation planning. Aquatic Conservation: Marine and Freshwater Ecosystems 19(4): 474–485.

Further reading Abell, R. 2002. Conservation biology for the biodiversity crisis: a freshwater follow-up. Conservation Biology 16(5): 1435–1437. Cardoso, P., TL. Erwin, PAV. Borges and TR. New. 2011. The seven impediments in invertebrate conservation and how to overcome them. Biological Conservation 144(11): 2647–2655. Dudgeon D., AH. Arthington, MO. Gessner, ZI. Kawabata, DJ. Knowler, C. Leveque, RJ. Naiman, et al. 2006. Freshwater biodiversity: importance, threats, status and conservation challenges. Biological Reviews 81(2): 163–182. Margules, CR. and RL. Pressey. 2000. Systematic conservation planning. Nature 405: 243–253.

ECOLOGICAL HISTORY OF SAVANNA GRASSLANDS IN INDIA For most people, savannas conjure up iconic images of vast open African landscapes, with giraffes, elephants, and large herds of wildebeest, zebras, and other herbivores. In reality, savannas are a pan-tropical vegetation formation, from the pampas and cerrados of Latin America, to the plains of northern Australia.

Filling in the (forest) blanks: the past, present and future of India’s savanna grasslands Abi T. Vanak, Ankila J. Hiremath, Siddhartha Krishnan, T. Ganesh and Nitin D. Rai

The term ‘savanna’ refers to any vegetation that is a combination of grasses and trees. Savanna composition can vary widely, from largely grass-dominated landscapes dotted with the occasional tree, to almost-closed woodlands with a grassy understory, and everything in between. On a climatic gradient, tropical and subtropical savannas lie between deserts at the drier end, and deciduous forests at the moister end, but the boundaries of the savanna biome tend to be fuzzy, and can be influenced by anthropogenic factors (e.g., livestock grazing, fire) as much as by climate. Asian savannas have, in particular, been grossly misconstrued for reasons that are part biogeographical and part historic. Biogeographically, much of South and Southeast Asia lies at the wetter end of the savanna-climate region, making Asian savannas structurally similar to deciduous forests. This—in conjunction with a history of colonial forestry that emphasised trees over other vegetation, and timber production over other uses of natural ecosystems—meant that savannas were considered to be forests that had been degraded by fires, herbivores, or other human influence. The fact that these systems were in the global bioclimatic envelope of tropical savanna grasslands was always ignored1. This misclassification of grasslands as degraded forests belies the long existence of 1

The Pilot Analysis of Global Ecosystems – Grasslands, classifies as much as 17% of India’s land mass as having native grasslands.

Smitha Shivaswamy 88

savannas in Asia. The earliest unequivocal fossil evidence for grasses on the Indian subcontinent comes from Central India, where paleaoecologists have found grass phytoliths (fossilised fragments of plant material) in fossilised dinosaur dung dating back to the late Cretaceous period (about 60 million years ago). Grasses were probably not very dominant at that time however, as grasses were only a small component of these dinosaurs’ diets, which comprised several other plants including trees and palms. Grasses became dominant only 5–8 million years ago, when the savanna biome seems to have synchronously spread across several parts of the globe, including present day India, Pakistan, and Nepal. On the Indian subcontinent, this appearance of savannas has been pegged to a marked change in climate. The sudden (geologically speaking) uplift of the Tibetan plateau around this time is thought to have resulted in the development of the Indian monsoon, marking a change from a year-round warm, wet climate to a strongly seasonal one. The fossil record of this period shows a significant shift in vegetation, with forest plants making way for grasses. The fossil record also shows that large herbivores, giraffes, and other grazing ungulates make an appearance on the Indian subcontinent at this time, as do recurring fires.

SAVANNA GRASSLANDS AND HUMANS IN INDIA While there are many environmental historical studies on Indian forests and their transformation during the colonial period, pre-colonial histories of forests, let alone of pastoral lands, remained sparse. But these sparse studies provide valuable historical descriptions of grasslands, their use, and management. David Arnold and Ramachandra Guha’s edited volume (1998) contains contributions on pastoralism in pre-colonial Mughal and colonial India. In his chapter in this book, Chetan Singh draws upon sources such as

Abul Fazl’s Ain-i-Akbari, and opines that the environment affects the economic and political relationship between the Mughal suzerainty and rural classes. Whereas ‘pastoralist’ and ‘pastoralism’ serve as useful proxies to infer grassland presence, the biome is occasionally invoked more directly to establish such identities. From their topography of occupation, Singh infers the identity of some very independent tribes in conflict with the Mughals, to be pastoralist. When he writes that the movement of Mughal armies was restricted in arid regions where animal husbandry was the main occupation for instance, we can, with some confidence, assume that savanna grassland characterised these regions. Singh senses pastoralists’ abundance from a ‘stray remark’ by Fazl on livelihood opportunities being ‘as abundant to the labourer as forage for his cattle.’ Examining Mughal records on regions like Surat, Rajasthan and Chamba (a Himalayan kingdom), Singh argues that livestock, which some scholars claim were maintained in larger numbers in the Mughal period than in later centuries, were owned in substantial numbers “by pastoralists whose herds grazed” “innumerable pastures”. Alturi Murali’s chapter in the same volume on forests in erstwhile Andhra Pradesh, refers to Murty and Sontheimer’s ethnoarchaeological research from 1980 on pastoralism in Kurnool, and on prehistory of pastoralism in the

Nomadic pastoralists such the Dhangar of Maharasthra have fully adapted to the dynamic cycles of productivity in the semi-arid savannas of central India. (Photo: Kalyan Varma)

Southern Deccan as a whole. These studies point to the antiquity of dairy and agricultural systems. Inscriptions from the 11th to 14th centuries AD, when the Chalukya-Cholas and Kakatiyas ruled, indicate the revenue roles of temples. The ‘pullary’ or grazing land tax was an important revenue source for the state. Similarly, in their pioneering ecological history of India, Madhav Gadgil and Ramachandra Guha (1992) qualitatively estimate the geographical expanse of agro-pastoralism from the drier north-western tracts along with the Indus plains to the Deccan peninsula as preferred grazier habitat. Many references to grasses, grasslands, and savanna were also made in colonial botany, and in some volumes there also remains the potential for inference. In Volume 1 of James Sykes Gamble’s Flora of the Presidency of Madras (1935), Gamble divides the Madras Presidency roughly into floristic regions, including the Sal region in the North, the “Dekkan” region, and the “semi-desert” region. The last of these comprises Coimbatore, Salem, Trichinopoly (Trichy), Madura (Madurai), and Tinnevelly (Tirunelveli) districts, but much of these semi-desert regions are permanent grazing lands or temporary agricultural fallow. For instance, in Tirunelveli in Tamil Nadu, the semi-desert would include meichal (grazing) grounds, farm fallows, and temple grazing commons. Savannas in the Travancore plains are possibly also averred to by Gamble as “grassy forests” where he notes the growth of the Hardi tree (Dalbergia lanceolaria), which is commonly associated with moist savannas. On the other hand, Gamble specifically refers to the “grassy savannahs” in the more arid Cuddapah (Kadappah), Mysore (Mysuru), Coimbatore, and Madura (Madurai).

MODERN TRANSFORMATION OF SAVANNA GRASSLANDS India’s environmental history suggests that a forest- and timber-centric view of the land90

of transformation occurred in the years following the Green Revolution with a shift from rainfed, subsistence agriculture to irrigated, industrial-scale agriculture. What is significant in these figures is the difference in perspective towards such losses. Whereas forest loss received enormous attention both in the popular imagination as well as in legislature, the loss of savanna grasslands has largely gone unnoticed.

CURRENT STATUS OF SAVANNA GRASSLANDS IN INDIA

Ironically, grasslands are under most threat from forestry departments, which see these areas as degraded ecosystems and therefore candidates for afforestation activities. (Photo: Kalyan Varma) scape has had enormous implications for grasslands, their biota, and the people and livestock that have depended on them. The pressure to make landscapes productive has been a historical effort. Under the British, these lands were considered wastelands since they did not provide revenues to the state’s coffers. Such a categorisation of land had implications for not only the landscapes but also for the people: productive lands were settled by members of mainstream society, who produced revenue for the state, and, in turn, benefited from state schemes. ‘Wastelands’ and the communities that depended on them, on the other hand, consisted largely of mobile pastoralists and associated groups that became peripheral in the eyes of the state. Savanna grasslands were reserved as forests starting in 1865, with grazing constituting a forest offence. Both high altitude grasslands, and savannas in the Indian plains appeared inadequate in the Colonial calculus. In some cases, they were seen as ‘forest blanks’ and replaced with tree plantations. In other cases, such as in Punjab and Haryana, the conversion of pastures to irrigated agriculture was seen as a great symbol of British ingenuity. It is estimated that about 20 million ha of grassland and shrub land, and 26 million ha of forests, were lost in India between 1880 and 2010. In the post-colonial era, the fastest rates 91

India’s grasslands and savannas are still the poor cousins of forests. They either continue to be converted into forms of production such as agriculture (where possible through improved irrigation), or solar farms, etc., or they continue to be targets of afforestation schemes that transform the landscape. Vegetation maps still depict the biomes of India as forests, with the exception of the hot Thar desert in the northwest, and the cold desert of Ladakh in the far north. Several unique ecosystems—the shola grasslands of the Western Ghats, the flood plain savannas of the Terai, the high altitude grasslands of the Himalaya, and the extensive arid and semi-arid savannas of western and central India—get subsumed under some category of forest (e.g., scrub or thorn forests) or as ‘forest blanks’. This categorisation at once condemns these ecosystems, the species that uniquely occur in them, and the livelihoods and rich cultures of the pastoralist communities that have historically adapted to life in these variable and challenging environments. Because of these historical and biogeographic legacies, the current status of grasslands in India is bleak. A recent analysis that quantified the extent of semi-arid savannas in India found that only between 1 and 9 % of the land area of 11 states was classified as savanna. The savannas of the Deccan plateau, spread over Andhra Pradesh, Telengana, Karnataka,

Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra, have suffered large scale conversion due to the spread of irrigated agriculture, forestry plantations, and industrialisation. The remaining patches are also under threat from various factors including renewable energy schemes, biofuel plantations, afforestation under compensatory afforestation interventions, urbanisation, and industrialisation. The drier grasslands and scrub savannas of Western Rajasthan have been transformed due to irrigated agriculture, whereas in Gujarat and Tamil Nadu the rapid spread of invasive species, such as Prosopis juliflora, has resulted in massive woody encroachment of grassland habitats.

India is rapidly progressing towards becoming an energy surplus nation, with a major focus on new and renewable energy sources; of these, wind and solar power are the two biggest contributors. The Government of India is targeting a five-fold increase in renewable energy to 175 gigawatts by 2022. Most of the newly installed, and planned, solar capacity is in areas that have the highest solar irradiation in the country, which, as would be expected, are the arid and semi-arid regions. Large tracts of savanna grasslands have now been fenced and converted to solar farms, resulting in further loss of access to grazing lands for pastoralists, as well as loss of biodiversity.

CAN INDIA’S SAVANNA GRASSLANDS SURVIVE THE 21ST CENTURY?

Both these new as well as old threats affect ecological processes as well as the people— especially pastoral communities—who use and manage grasslands. The low productivity and the patchy distribution of pasture for livestock means that pastoralists and their livestock have to move long distances to track resources. This movement of people and livestock is dynamic, and subject to rainfall variability. Recent efforts to increase incomes from pastoralism have seen initiatives to provide market access and provide fodder to ensure higher and consistent production. This has resulted in pastoralists moving less. The implication of reduced mobility is that grassland use is restricted to smaller areas, which then tend to experience greater use and degradation, leaving them vulnerable to colonisation by invasive species. On the other hand, a complete lack of grazing can also alter grassland species composition and may even result in lower levels of diversity, with only a few species dominating.

With increasing anthropogenic pressures on decreasing land resources, and with acquisition of forest and agricultural land fraught with difficulty, the attention of the government and policymakers has turned to savanna grasslands. With less than 7% of existing savannas under the protected area network, it is perhaps no surprise that policy makers view these ‘barren wastelands’ as a prime target for development activities. For example, not long ago, over 4,000 ha of semi-arid savannas were diverted for an ambitious ‘Science City’ project in Karnataka.

An icon of the Indian savanna, the blackbuck antelope, once counted in the thousands, is now isolated to a few pockets of grasslands throughout the country. (Photo: Kalyan Varma)

There are also pressures from intensification of agriculture due to enhanced water availability through irrigation. This not only leads to habitat loss, but also to an increase in use of harmful pesticides. For instance, the intensive use of pesticides on crops due to the building of the Telugu Ganga canal in Kurnool 92

Many species, such as the critically endangered great Indian bustard (Ardeotis nigriceps), are wholly dependent on the savanna grasslands, and as the grasslands have disappeared, so have these iconic symbols of the Indian savanna. (Photo: Abi T. Vanak) district is supposed to have led to the death of several open country birds, including many raptors. Irrigation in dry lands also leads to homogenisation of agriculture and increase in commercial crops, leading to a loss of fallows that served as refugia, further threatening grassland biodiversity. Grasslands are therefore undergoing significant changes either through alternations in pastoral practice or in land use. These changes are a direct result of the desire to increase productivity from what are perceived as unproductive wastelands. These continued threats to India’s savannas and grasslands, and to the biodiversity and people that inhabit these landscapes, may, ironically, be stemmed because of the decline of one India’s most iconic species. The great Indian bustard is on the verge of extinction. It has been uplisted on the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red List from ‘Endangered’ to ‘Critically Endangered’. Similarly, other obligate grassland species, such as the lesser florican, and the steppe eagle, a winter migrant to India, have been uplisted to ‘Endangered’. These population

declines are an indication of changes in the broader landscapes that are beyond habitat loss. Because of these species, grasslands are getting renewed attention from conservationists, policy makers, and the general public. Just as forests are more than tigers, grasslands are more than bustards, and one hopes that such resurgence in interest to conserve these species translates to not only major policy changes, but also to action on the ground to conserve grasslands, their people, and biodiversity. Further reading Murty, MLK., and GD. Sontheimer. 1980. Prehistoric background to pastoralism in the southern Deccan in the light of oral traditions and cults of some pastoral communities. Anthropos 75(1/2): 163–184. Ratnam, J., KW. Tomlinson, DN. Rasquinha, and M. Sankaran. 2016. Savannahs of Asia: antiquity, biogeography, and an uncertain future. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B. 371(1703): 20150305. Tian. H., K. Banger, T. Bo, VK. Dadhwal. 2014. History of land use in India during 1880–2010: large-scale land transformations reconstructed from satellite data and historical archives. Global and Planetary Change 121: 78–88. Vanak, AT., A. Kulkarni, A. Gode, C. Sheth, and J. Krishnaswamy. 2015. Extent and status of semi-arid savanna grasslands in India. In: Ecology and Management of Grassland Habitats in India (eds. Rawat, GS. and BS. Adhikari) Pp. 192–201. Dehradun: ENVIS WII. Whitehead, J. 2010. John Locke and the governance of India’s landscape: the category of wasteland in colonial revenue and forest legislation. Economic and Political Weekly 45(50): 83–93.

Introduction

Moving from requiem to revival: India’s rivers and riverine ecosystems Jagdish Krishnaswamy, Manish Kumar, Nachiket Kelkar, Tarun Nair and Vidyadhar Atkore

In September 2014, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, stated, “rivers are the soul of the nation,” and committed to reviving them using the best available scientific knowledge. The following year, he remarked, “generations will not forgive us for the manner in which we have treated our water.” But such pronouncements are far removed from the realities of our policies and practices. Without doubt, human transformation of hydrology has been an important driver for sustaining agricultural productivity and urban development throughout history1. Approximately 4700 large reservoirs (reservoirs with capacity ≥1 million cubic metres) and 208 barrages have already been built in India, primarily for irrigation and hydropower. Further, several projects for power generation and large-scale inter-basin water diversions are underway, and proposed. However, these projects will undoubtedly and drastically alter regional hydrology, and negatively affect freshwater, estuarine, and deltaic ecosystems, their biodiversity and habitats, and the ecosystem services they provide (provisioning, regulating, cultural). Such projects will also displace and marginalise numerous local resident communities, and destroy forests and river ecosystems. In addition, the impacts of widespread river pollution, and overexploitation of groundwater and other freshwater resources are mounting to damaging levels. However, increasing population, and the ever-growing thirst for freshwater, have overshadowed our perceptions of the environmental risks involved in mega-scale technological solutions proposed to ‘solve’ water crises and meet demands. For instance, the plan to interlink India’s rivers is raising 1 Krishnaswamy, J. 2015. Saving India’s rivers and riverine ecosystems. Fundamatics - IITBAA Magazine. http://www.fundamatics.net/article/saving-indias-rivers-and-riverine-ecosystems/

Jayesh Sivan 94

major concerns about impacts on aquatic biodiversity and hydrological services, apart from its unsustainability and economic unviability under current and future climate change scenarios. There are legitimate ecological and environmental concerns about hydropower and irrigation projects being developed on the last remaining free-flowing streams and rivers. An ecological understanding of our rivers has remained poor and marginal in public awareness, thanks to discourses on river management dominated by myopic visions of economic growth and technological salvation. A good starting point is the reimagining of our rivers as connected ecosystems from headwaters to deltas and estuaries.

RIVERS AS ECOSYSTEMS, NOT MERE CONDUITS FOR WATER SUPPLY Rivers are unique ecosystems because of the hierarchical and nested system of tributaries. They harness and transport water, nutrients, biomass, living organisms, and sediments, from large slices of the earth’s biosphere, even as their courses straddle diverse geologies, terrestrial ecosystems, and cultures, often over hundreds or thousands of kilometres, from headwaters to deltas (see Figure 1). The functioning of riverine ecosystems, and the ecosystem services that societies derive from them, need monsoonal floods as well as dry-season baseflows. A river’s existence as a connected, dynamic ecosystem needs sandbanks, riparian vegetation, islands, and floodplains with their wetlands. Rivers are not just the cradles of civilisations, they are also barometers of change in their vast upstream catchments, linking the mountains to the seas. The role of peak monsoonal flows in sustaining downstream ecosystems and livelihoods, especially the fisheries in deltas, estuaries, and shallow marine ecosystems, tends to be ignored. Similarly, sedimentation processes play a critical role in regulating ecosystem

Megha Vishwanath

barrages, and the plans to inter-link rivers. Inter-basin transfers, as part of the National River Linking Project (NRLP), are based on the assumption that ‘surplus’ water in some basins (in the wet-season) can be diverted to other ‘deficient’ basins. In the context of the Western Ghats, numerous inter-basin transfer projects (e.g. the Mahadayi-Malaprabha diversion) have been proposed to divert ‘surplus’ water from west-flowing rivers to the ‘deficient’ basins of east-flowing rivers to meet drinking water, irrigation, and energy demands. However, the notion of surplus is often based on limited data, and a poor understanding of the role of natural flows, including floods and periodic droughts, in maintaining ecosystems and ecological processes.

Figure 1. A schematic depicting a river’s course from its headwaters to the ocean, and illustrating ecological flow regimes that are important to maintain habitats and biodiversity. functions and species diversity. These ecosystems depend on sediment, nutrient, and freshwater flows to maintain the unique salinity and biogeochemistry regimes that determine their productivity and biodiversity. The very existence of this productivity depends on dynamic fluctuations, pulses, abrupt, and rapid changes. Just contrast this with a river imagined by a purely engineering-based ‘model’, as merely a conduit of water with a steady volume of flow. Technology constantly attempts to mute the dynamic character of rivers to actually render them merely as freshwater supply channels, rather than as living ecosystems. Another instance is in the way we view floods even today. Floods perform a crucial role in sustaining the productivity of agriculture and fisheries by redistributing and connecting sediments, nutrients, and water. They also provide corridors for species to move along, and across,

the river floodplain, and indeed, multiple species of fishes, invertebrates, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals have their life-cycles tuned to cues received from rising and falling flood levels. Floods change both landscapes as well as riverscapes, but human land uses insist on permanent, stable settlements, which are an ideal in conflict with the natural character of rivers. For ecologically sustainable management of rivers and floodplains, there is a need to move away from the paradigm that floods are undesirable; we must recognise that landuse and livelihoods can be made compatible with periodic disturbance regimes.

OUR RIVERS AT RISK The dominant paradigm of river management in India (and one often repeated by politicians, engineers, and bureaucrats) is, “so much water is going ‘waste’ into the sea,” justifying the construction of a multitude of dams and 96

In most cases, water scarcity problems have been addressed by supply augmentation, either through creating additional seasonal storage, or engineered diversions from neighbouring basins. The whole engineering-dominated discourse on ‘utilisation’ of river waters, vis-à-vis ecological and environmental functions and ecosystem benefits of free-flowing rivers, is now being questioned. These definitions of surplus and deficient will also need to be revisited, especially in the context of changing climatic trends and the need to maintain environmental flows.

uncertainty in the rainfall regime is best illustrated by what we have seen in the country in 2015 and 2016: drought in some parts (e.g., Bundelkhand, Vidarbha), floods in others (e.g., Assam, Bihar, Chennai), and areas with crop failure subsequently undergoing intense rain and floods (e.g., Maharashtra, Haryana). Unfortunately, current water management fails to account for long-term climate trends as well as short-term climate variability, especially in the case of largescale inter-basin (or inter-state) transfers, raising doubts over their long-term efficacy. Development pressures have also compromised on the capacity of riverine ecosystems to sustain ecosystems such as mangrove forests in mitigating impacts of extreme flooding or sea-level rise. Similarly, loss of catchment forests, and encroachment on drainage pathways, exacerbate impacts of extreme events, as seen during the Kedarnath flash floods in 2013. Hydropower: the myth of green energy?

Climate change and the (mis)management of rivers The construction and design of dams or barrages is based on an underlying assumption of stationarity of the hydrologic cycle, that the dynamic linkages between precipitation, groundwater, and hydrologic flows are predictable and manageable. The assumption remains largely flawed and potentially disastrous in a changing climate, as India faces hydrological uncertainties. The Indian monsoon has been declining since the 1950s, but extreme rain events are increasing in some parts of the country. The spatial and temporal 97

Hydropower development in India, particularly in the Himalayan basins, has increased at an unprecedented rate in the past decade, with plans to generate 50,000 MW. We have ignored the poor environmental record of hydropower, e.g., widespread forest submergence, biodiversity loss, and large-scale displacement of people; and have, instead, promoted hydropower as ‘green energy’. The consequences of hydropower, both small and large, continue to impact the Himalayas: stagnant river stretches behind dam-structures, de-watered stretches for several kilometres downstream, devastated hill slopes, frequent landslides, the affected Bhabar floodplains, and increased seismic vulnerability in this earthquake-prone region. And this is despite India being power surplus and states not buying power. Even small hydro-power projects—clusters of which are being planned since large dams are no longer feasible or acceptable—by design,

introduce artificial fluctuations in stream-flow during the power generation cycle. These fluctuations differ from natural daily and seasonal pulses in stream-flow by orders of magnitude, with negative impacts on aquatic plants and animals.

and towns take responsibility for recycling water and investing in local reservoirs, and take major steps to reduce water pollution, ecological flow regimes in rivers cannot be achieved. We hope that India’s plans for ‘smart cities’ are also ‘smart’ about managing and recycling water.

Urbanisation and pollution impacts India’s move towards increased urban and industrial growth is unplanned in terms of water demand and supply, and environmental impacts on rivers and wetlands. Water supplies to urban, industrial, and other settlement clusters place ever greater demands on the limited sources of unpolluted freshwater, and in return they often discharge highly polluted water (sewage) back into rivers (see Thomas et al., Jamwal et al., this volume). Over-exploitation of groundwater in urbanising watersheds is reducing base-flows, and in some cases eliminates base-flow in many rivers (see Srinivasan et al., this volume). These demands have also brought forth issues of access and quality of available water, leading to conflicts and loss of riverine ecosystems and services. These issues are well illustrated in the cases of the Yamuna and Daman Ganga, as they flow past Delhi and Vapi, respectively. Promoting recycling, and reducing water use and wastage of water in all sectors (agricultural, industrial, and domestic) is critical given the levels of pollution caused by these demands. Furthermore, high quality water from ecosystems should be at a premium so that industry cannot get water at a cheap rate anymore. Interventions like the National Mission for Clean Ganga (preceded by the Ganga Action Plan) attempt to address river pollution. However, they are often too narrowly focussed on the cleanliness of pilgrim centres along rivers that are considered holy, rather than considering eco-hydrological conditions at the river-basin scale. Unless cities

Dredging for national waterways: breaking our rivers’ backs? Envisioned by India’s Ministry of Road Transport, Highways, and Shipping, the National Waterways Act, 2016, if implemented, will lead to the conversion of 111 rivers and creeks across India into waterway canals, for ‘eco-friendly transport’ of bulk cargo, coal, industrial raw materials, and for tourism purposes. Indeed, many of India’s larger rivers, especially in the Gangetic plains, were used for navigation and goods transport until almost the early 19th century. However, this was in an age where rivers flowed without barriers, and there was no large-scale extraction to reduce dry-season discharge and depth.

IMPACTS OF ALTERED FLOWS AND OTHER HUMAN DISTURBANCES

shellfish (molluscs, crustaceans) and fish production—are also often ignored.

Impacts on biodiversity

Populations of riverine wildlife have been fragmented by multiple dams and barrages. In some cases, alteration to river flows, and consequent threat to livelihood security, has also forced local communities to resort to large-scale hunting. Many endangered species such as river dolphins, gharials, freshwater turtles, otters, and birds, have seen significant local population declines due to overexploitation and poaching. A good case of this is the near-extinction of many freshwater turtle populations from a large region of the Gangetic basin due to hunting. Turtles contribute to cleaning the river water by feeding on organic matter, and their decline can deplete this important ecosystem service.

Dams, barrages, and hydropower projects have led to widespread destruction of river fish breeding areas and disconnected their migration pathways. For example, studies on the impacts of hydrological regulation in the Malaprabha and Mahadayi (Mhadei) catchments, in the Western Ghats, found decreased local abundances of hill-stream fishes such as Western Ghats loach (Bhavania australis) and catfish (Glyptothorax sp). Similarly, the controversial Farakka Barrage, in West Bengal, was chiefly responsible for the collapse of the commercially prized hilsa fish because it prevented their upriver movement to spawn in the Ganga basin. The impacts of reduced freshwater flows into estuaries—despite the contribution of these flows to vital coastal and marine processes critical for estuarine

Even though they are being promoted as fuel-efficient, cost-effective, and carbon-friendly2, waterways, today, cannot be maintained without ecologically-destructive practices such as river-bottom dredging and channelisation to maintain a depth sufficient for ships and vessels to ply. This can cause complete destruction of fish-breeding habitats, disturbance to aquatic wildlife such as river dolphins, turtles, and crocodilians, and loss of resources for people dependent on river fisheries for subsistence. Channelising river courses and flows by construction of ports, embankments, and navigation locks is certainly going to endanger what remains of our rivers. 2 Kelkar, N. 2016. Digging our rivers’ graves? A summary analysis of the ecological impacts of the National Waterways Bill (2015). Dams, Rivers, and People Newsletter. South Asia Network for Dams, Rivers, and People (SANDRP) 14(1-2): 1–6.

Impacts on river-based livelihoods Due to poor water levels in our rivers, caused by flow regulations and alarming pollution levels, fisheries productivity is declining and fisher-folk are highly vulnerable to losing their resource base. It is a shocking fact that our river fisheries are on the verge of collapse, despite India being the second-largest producer, globally, of farmed freshwater fish today. Tropical estuarine areas, free from major developmental projects, have been known for their extremely productive fisheries. However, reduced/ unseasonal freshwater flows due to dams and diversions have affected these occupations. For instance, the Sharavathi estuary fishery (only 29 fish species) has reportedly collapsed after hydropower development, while the neighbouring Aghanashini estuary fishery (77 fish species) continues to thrive at the mouth of the undammed Aghanashini river. Yet, few studies have ascertained the importance of unaltered hydrologic regimes, and economic returns from fisheries, to in-stream and downstream local communities in India.

RIVER RESTORATION: RHETORIC AND REALITIES Lack of scientific ecological guidelines in India’s water policies The impacts of altered river-flow regimes on biodiversity and ecosystem services have largely been ignored in India, and even associated concepts and methods are usually hydrologically and statistically driven, without sufficiently addressing ecosystem processes and services, species biologies, and livelihood dependencies. The National Water Policy (2012) has mandated that ecological and environmental flows be maintained in rivers, but we do not have any scientific guidelines or management frameworks for assessing flow regimes for specific riverine ecosystems and ecosystem services. Our policies do not impose efficiency criteria for competing water-users like industry, cities, or agriculture, to enable allocation of water for maintaining ecological and environmental flows. Environmental flows also include water allocations to support the livelihoods of over 15 million fisher-folk dependent on India’s rivers. Many scholars now argue that ‘surplus’ water assessments conducted for NRLP have ignored a whole range of ecological, environmental, and social issues. The methods used to estimate the environmental flow requirements (EFReq) and in-stream utilisation (water demands) of streamflow to arrive at the surplus followed the outdated guidelines proposed in the India Water Policy (2002) and draft Revised National Water Policy (2012). The application of new methods for understanding environmental flow ‘regimes’ (EFReg) would classify these large storage and diversion projects as either environmentally damaging or socially unjust/inequitable. The July 2016 interim order verdict in the Mahadayi water dispute, for example, is there-

fore significant, because for the first time, two paradigms dominating the discourse on sharing river waters (between the headwater streams of Mahadayi, and the east-flowing Malaprabha river) have been challenged by the court: that river water flowing to the sea is a ‘waste’ and that so called ‘surplus’ has to be estimated at the point of extraction (i.e., in the headwater catchment), and not at the entire basin scale. All concerned parties will hopefully use the best available knowledge on these issues to agree on socially just and environmentally sustainable demands on river waters, and plan to reduce wastage and enhance recycling of water.

erations make a strong case for incorporating ecological knowledge into existing paradigms of engineering-based river management, can have a significant impact on reducing the negative impacts of existing river regulation, and offer opportunities for partially restoring river ecosystem health and services. These opportunities will be constrained by existing water-allocation agreements, and political or legal impediments, but it is necessary to recognise that dam re-operations are in the best interest of rivers, biodiversity, and human society at large. The following examples highlight potential scenarios in which this could be achieved.

Sediment fluxes as an integral part of the ecological flow regime

Barrages and novel habitats

As mentioned earlier, sediment flux plays a critical role in regulating ecosystem function and species diversity. ‘Ecological flow regime’, by definition, includes sediments and nutrients, which are crucial for downstream ecosystems—the term does not merely refer to the volume of water. By trapping sediment in reservoirs, dams interrupt the continuity of sediment transport through rivers, and deprive downstream reaches of sediments essential for channel form and aquatic habitats. This also results in the loss of reservoir storage and reduces the usable life of reservoirs. The complexities of managing ecological flows from dam reservoirs all over India are illustrated well by the Bansagar Dam. Constructed in 2006, upstream of the Son Gharial Sanctuary in Madhya Pradesh, this dam threatens the continued survival of the critically endangered gharials there. Sand and silt deposits are crucial for creating and maintaining sandbanks and emergent sandbar habitats of gharial, turtles, and Indian skimmers, to cite a few species of management focus in the sanctuary. Flow reduction, erratic releases from the dam, drastically reduced sediment supply, and sand mining, deplete 100

these island deposits within the sanctuary, leading to habitat loss and breeding failure for many species. We assessed the scope of dam re-operations like sediment flushing for the Bansagar Dam, such that ecological flow regimes and sediment fluxes are maintained for the successful breeding and continued persistence of endangered wildlife in the sanctuary. Our work has shown that short-term sacrifices in water storage or power generation from dam reservoirs will be inevitable, but can result in long-term gains in storage capacity, downstream ecological benefits, and biodiversity conservation.

While the overall impacts of barrages are negative, some barrages have also, incidentally, created new habitats and ecosystems for biodiversity. Some have helped conserve forests in the upper catchment, due to the declaration of protected areas to reduce siltation into dam reservoirs, and reduce pollution. These novel ecosystems include globally significant Ramsar sites such as the Pong Dam Lake in Himachal Pradesh, and Harike in Punjab, as well as numerous wetlands in and around protected areas, where the annual drawdown for irrigation results in new grassy habitat for wildlife, both aquatic and terrestrial. Such scenarios, indeed, offer some hope to conserve biodiversity and ecosystem services, and the attributes of these hydrologic and ecological transformations must be studied to manage existing and new reservoirs/barrages with local stakeholders.

Managing barrages and dam reservoirs for biodiversity and ecosystem services

Fish ladders versus ecological flows

Dam re-operations (via ecological flow regimes, habitat management, sediment flushing, dry-season release timing, and optimised irrigation water supply) for biodiversity and ecosystem services remains a highly neglected area in current water management. Re-op-

There is renewed talk of constructing new fish ladders at the controversial Farakka Barrage (with an already defunct fish ladder) to ensure that fish such as hilsa can swim upriver to spawn in the Ganga and revive livelihoods of fisher-folk. The success of fish

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ladders in tropical and subtropical rivers, with high sediment fluxes, has been abysmally poor because of poor water levels released downstream. Solutions for sustaining fisheries need to therefore go beyond band-aid engineering solutions, and will require the combined efforts of hydrologists and fish biologists towards experimentally arriving at, and adaptively managing, flow regimes for facilitating upriver fish migration. Preserving undammed and undisturbed tributaries, which may serve as habitat refuges for fish downstream of dams from further water development, will be crucial for the success of fisheries restoration measures.

CONCLUSION: THE NEED FOR A PARADIGM SHIFT TO MOVE FROM REQUIEM TO REVIVAL Given the scale of threats facing our river ecosystems, it is critical to emphasise the need for a paradigm shift in the way we look at our rivers and their importance for our own resilience, development, culture, and welfare. This paradigm shift is essentially a call for foregrounding a dynamic and ecolog-

ical understanding of rivers by going beyond the dominant engineering-based outlook that views them merely as ‘volumes’ or ‘conduits’. We have a limited window of time to infuse ecological concerns into major imminent projects that are likely to modify our rivers even further. The appreciation of rivers as interconnected socio-ecological systems needs to be developed across civil society and government. While we acknowledge the benefits of irrigated agriculture and hydropower from dams, barrages, and reservoirs in India, we believe it is necessary to examine the costs of further large-scale transformations on the last remaining free-flowing rivers and streams, and to question our approach to water management in the country. The growing evidence from negative impacts of barrages and dams on downstream ecosystems, ecosystem services, and livelihoods, should be carefully assessed by all stakeholders before planning any new transformations. It would only be prudent for engineers to reconsider largescale riverlinking plans, keeping in mind their overall feasibility and environmental impacts.

Even for projects that may meet these criteria and are eventually implemented, scientists, stakeholders, and land-use planners, need to work hard to minimise damage to biodiversity and plan for mitigation and adaptation. If we wish to meaningfully move from requiem to revival for India’s rivers and riverine ecosystems, ecological flow regimes should become an integral part of any future project design, rather than an afterthought. At present it is unfortunate, but necessary, to acknowledge that for many rivers, regulated flows may be the only option for conserving aquatic biodiversity and traditional river-based livelihoods. As we have argued, concerns for conservation and sustainable livelihoods hinge not only on reducing socio-economic inequities to accessing water, but also integrating recycling and reducing water wastage across sectors, and sparing water for ecological processes. These efforts will only support and strengthen the continuity of ecological flow regimes maintained within existing management structures. In the short term we need to engage urgently to avoid the potentially irreversible impacts of immediate, and ongoing, large-

Gharials need adequate flows, regular sand deposition, and restrictions on fishing, to breed. (Photo: Tarun Nair) 102

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scale transformations of flowing rivers. This will need an effort by interdisciplinary eco-hydrological science, over and above mere engineering calculations. Further Reading Dandekar, P. 2012. Indian Himalayas moving towards highest dam densities in the world. Dams, Rivers & People 10(10-11): 14–15. Ghosh, S., H. Vittal, T. Sharma, S. Karmakar, KS. Kasiviswanathan, Y. Dhanesh, KP. Sudheer, et al. 2016. Indian summer monsoon rainfall: implications of contrasting trends in the spatial variability of means and extremes. PLoS One 11(7): e0158670. Huber, A. and D. Joshi. 2015. Hydropower, anti-politics, and the opening of new political spaces in the Eastern Himalayas. World Development 76: 13–25. Mittra, S. and R. D’Souza. 2013. Fishing in troubled waters and the cusec-megawatt river. Seminar 652.

Addressing pollution in urban rivers: Lessons from the Vrishabhavathy river in Bengaluru Priyanka Jamwal and Sharachchandra Lele

Introduction The sight of black, foaming, and stinking rivers is a familiar sight in urban India. We hear about the pollution of the Ganga and Yamuna rivers. Some may have also heard about certain (in)famous cases such as the Palar river in Tamil Nadu (polluted by tanneries), or the Tungabhadra river in Karnataka (polluted by a pulp and rayon factory), which are celebrated in the environmental literature for the social movements they sparked. The Central Pollution Control Board reported, in 2015, that 67% of the river stretches in its monitoring network are polluted. Why is river pollution so ubiquitous in India? More than 35% of India’s 1.25 billion people live in urban areas. In the absence of infrastructure to treat wastewater, these urban centres let out untreated effluents into nearby rivers and lakes. Moreover, with industrialisation going hand-in-hand with urbanisation, and with the domestic use of industrial and chemical products increasing dramatically, pollution is no longer just biological in nature (i.e., sewage), but contains a variety of chemicals, including heavy metals. The consequences of river pollution depend upon how this water is utilised downstream. In many cases, farmers downstream of an urban centre use the polluted water for irrigation. If the water contains industrial effluents, it can damage the crops, or the heavy metals can accumulate surreptitiously in the food chain, leading to serious health consequences for consumers. There is, of course, an elaborate legal framework and apparatus for regulating surface water pollution in the country. The pertinent question then is, why are Indian rivers and their users facing such high levels of exposure to contaminants? In this chapter, we summarise the findings of 4 years of research by ATREE on the Vrishabhavathy river, which originates in the city of

Vartika Sharma 104

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Bengaluru. We then use this to illustrate the multiple dimensions of river water pollution and its associated problems in an urbanising context.

THE STATE OF THE VRISHABHAVATHY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES The Vrishabhavathy river originates in Bengaluru and flows south–southwest for ~50 km before joining the Arkavathy river (Figure 1). The city of Bengaluru, about a third of which is located within the Vrishabhavathy catchment, is one of the fastest growing cities in India. The city has grown from a population of 4.2 million in 2001 to nearly 10 million today. About two-thirds of the water used in the city today, i.e., about 1350 million litres per day (MLD), is drawn from the Cauvery river 100 km away, with the rest coming from local groundwater pumping. This generates an estimated 1400 MLD of wastewater, a third of which then drains into the Vrishabhavathy. An irrigation reservoir that was constructed across the Vrishabhavathy in 1943, at Byramangala village (about 15 km downstream of where the city ends today), has today become a receptacle for this wastewater, which is then used to irrigate almost 2000 ha of agricultural land. Continuous inflows of wastewater into the reservoir have led to anaerobic conditions that spread a foul stench over the surrounding villages. The water in the reservoir is black in colour and large amounts of froth form at both the inlet and the outlet of the reservoir. In our study, conducted between 2013 and 2015, water samples were collected monthly at three sites located in the Peenya catchment—Chowdeshwari (CHO), Sumanahalli (SUM), and Bangalore University campus (VRH)—for a period of 1 year. In addition, soil, irrigation water, groundwater, and milk samples were also collected monthly from three villages downstream—Chikkakuttenahalli (CKT), Bannigiri (BNG), and M Goppahalli

higher than the standards set by WHO for safe irrigation practices. The chemical quality of water in the Vrishabhavathy river, both at the upstream and the downstream ends of the catchment, is very poor. The upstream stretch of the river has high levels of non-biodegradable chemicals, as well heavy metals exceeding the industrial effluent discharge standards. As the river flows, because of dilution, sedimentation, and other instream processes, the levels of heavy metals in the water reduce. But even after this reduction the levels, observed in the water at the point of use for irrigation at the three study villages, are higher than the guidelines set by the UN Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO), especially for manganese and nickel (Figure 2). The use of heavy-metal laden wastewater for irrigation eventually results in the bioaccumula-

tion of these metals in soil, dairy products, and vegetables. Significant heavy metal concentrations were found in the fodder, milk, and vegetables that are produced in these villages.

HEALTH RISK Exposure to biological contaminants can lead to various gastrointestinal and skin infections, and chronic exposure to heavy metals can cause neurological and developmental disorders in children, and can increase the risk of cancer in adults. We identified the multiple pathways through which these contaminants create public health risks, and found them to broadly fall in two categories (Figure 3). The farmers, who come into contact with irrigation water, and also consume some of the agricultural produce and the local drinking water, are at risk of disease from the pathogens and skin infections from the heavy metals in the irrigation

Figure 1: Vrishabhavathy river’s urban catchment, and the area irrigated by the Byramangala reservoir. Upstream sampling locations were Chowdeshwari (CHO), Sumanahalli (SUM), and Bangalore University (VRH); sampled villages downstream were Chikkakuntanahalli (CKT), Bannigiri (BNG), M Gopalahalli (MGP). (MGP)—for a period of one year (Figure 1). The samples were brought back to ATREE’s soil and water quality lab to test for biological and chemical contamination. Because the water is used for irrigation, the observed water quality was compared with standards for irrigation water. Our assessment of the water quality in the urban river stretch, the Byramangala reservoir, the irrigation channels, and groundwater in the command area points to serious biological and chemical contamination. This poses grave health risks to the farmers who grow, and the urban consumers who consume, the agricultural produce1. 1

Jamwal, P., PR Urs., and D. Nayak. Urbanisation and its impact on peri-urban areas: a case study of Bengaluru city (unpublished manuscript)

BIOLOGICAL AND CHEMICAL QUALITY Biological contamination is often measured using levels of faecal coliforms in the water. Fecal coliform (FC) are a group of gram negative bacteria that indicate the presence of pathogens (disease-causing organisms) in water. According to the World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines, the level of FC should be less than 10 3 most probable number (MPN)/100 ml if wastewater is reused for irrigation. In our study, FC levels at the upstream and downstream locations in the Vrishabhavathy river were found to be 10 8 MPN/100 ml and 105 MPN/100 ml respectively, i.e., 100,000 and 100 times greater, respectively, than guidelines set by WHO. Thus, although the level of FC decreases as the water flows downstream, it is still much 106

Figure 2. Heavy metals levels in irrigation water at Byranmangla tank (ITT) and three villages (CKT, BNG and MGP) located in its command area (ppm=parts per million). Horizontal lines indicate permissible levels (as per FAO guidelines). 107

water. Urban consumers (mostly in Bengaluru) face risks from the heavy metals in the milk and vegetables, although the extent of risk is hard to assess, given complexities of produce movement and food habits among these consumers. Farmers in the villages around, and downstream of, the Byramangala reservoir of course know from sight, smell, and skin irritation, that their water is polluted, and our study further communicated the less-visible risks, such as heavy metals. Yet the farmers face a conundrum. While the health risks are undoubtedly there, this wastewater is also their economic lifeline. As Bengaluru grew, it increased the water drawn from the Cauvery, and its increased effluents have made the Vrishabhavathy river perennial, enabling yearround irrigated cultivation in the Byramangala region at no cost—a luxury in an otherwise dry region that is experiencing declining groundwater levels. Moreover, these wastewater flows are rich in nutrients like nitrogen and phosphorous, which further benefit agricul-

ture. Thus, it is unlikely that the farmers will cease using this wastewater on their own. Pollution mitigation must happen upstream.

REASONS: LACUNAE IN MONITORING, REGULATION AND GOVERNANCE So why is there so much biological and chemical pollution in the Vrishabhavathy? Why do current laws and enforcement mechanisms not work? To begin with, it is important to understand that the two forms of pollution— biological and chemical—have somewhat different sources. Biological contamination comes from sewage being added, without treatment, to the river from all parts of Bengaluru. Heavy metals, on the other hand, emerge from certain kinds of industries that are not found in all parts of Bengaluru. We traced the source of heavy metals to the Peenya sub-catchment, which overlaps with Peenya Industrial Area, the largest industri-

Sewage mismanagement BWSSB is a para-statal agency set up to provide water supply and sewerage facilities to the city of Bengaluru. However, full treatment of sewage has not been much of a priority for them for a long time, and that reflects their ‘out of sight, out of mind’ approach towards handling of sewage. When coupled with the incredible pace at which Bengaluru has grown

Sampling at VRH

One-time grab sample (KSPCB)

Hourly composite sample (ATREE)

Figure 3: Multiple pathways of toxic heavy metal exposure experienced by peri-urban and urban populations. Risk to the peri-urban population is much higher than the urban population as the former is exposed to multiple contaminants via multiple pathways. 108

in the past 2 decades, the result is a huge gap between installed sewage treatment capacity (721 MLD) and Bengaluru’s need (~1400 MLD).

al zone in Bengaluru, and one that houses several potentially polluting industries such as electroplaters, alloy and metal works, battery refurbishers, and so on. Corresponding to these two forms of pollution (i.e., biological and chemical), and their sources, we investigated the efforts of the Bangalore Water Supply and Sewerage Board (BWSSB) towards treatment of sewage in the whole catchment. We also investigated the level of compliance of industries in the Peenya catchment with effluent disposal norms, and the Karnataka State Pollution Control Board’s (KSPCB) efforts to monitor pollution and enforce the law vis-à-vis both the BWSSB and the industries. We also looked at whether the legal framework itself is adequate. The findings were quite revealing.

We also found that the existing treatment plants function far below installed capacity; moreover, they have to draw diluted and chemically contaminated water from the river to make up for the shortfall in raw domestic sewage coming from their underground pipes because of the incomplete, broken, and clogged pipe network. The mixing of river water also leads to malfunctioning of the treatment plants, resulting in ‘treated’ effluents that do not at all meet discharge standards set by the law2. While BWSSB is building more sewage treatment plants, it remains to be seen whether they will address the bottleneck of an inadequate underground network, or rethink their approach to locating and determining the size of plants. Equally, KSPCB’s monitoring of these plants seems faulty—even while our tests showed the effluent quality to be below standard, KSPCB’s monitoring suggests the quality is acceptable. 2

Jamwal, P., TM. Zuhail, PR. Urs, V. Srinivasan, and S. Lele. 2015. Contribution of sewage treatment to pollution abatement of urban streams. Current Science 108(4): 677–685.

Levels

Mn (mg/l)

Cu (mg/l)

Cr (mg/l)

Ni (mg/l)

Pb (mg/l)

Max

0.08

BDL

0.05

0.07

Min

0.00

BDL

0.01

0.06

Max

0.85

0.80

0.50

0.12

0.20

Min

0.24

0.01

0.00

Table 1. Comparison of the levels of heavy metals, manganese (Mn), copper (Cu), chromium (Cr), nickel (Ni), and lead (Pb) detected in samples collected monthly by KSPCB, and those collected hourly by ATREE’s water and soil laboratory. (BDL denotes ‘below detectable limits’). All samples were collected at Bangalore University campus (VRH). Units are milligrams of heavy metal per litre of water. 109

Inadequate outcome monitoring If the goal of imposing discharge standards on industries and public sewerage agencies is to make sure that rivers and lakes do not get polluted, then it seems obvious that one would also monitor whether this goal is being ultimately met. Unfortunately, such ‘outcome’ monitoring by KSPCB began very late and only after pressure from the courts. While biological contamination is visible and also easy to monitor (domestic effluents are discharged continuously), the strategy for monitoring industrial contaminants in the river, initiated by KSPCB in response to court pressure, was found to be seriously inadequate.

Figure 4. Variations in concentrations of chromium (Cr), copper (Cu), lead (Pb), nickel (Ni), and manganese (Mn) in the Peenya stream at Chowdeshwari Nagar (CHO) over a 24-hour period (ppm is equivalent to milligrams per litre). Concentrations peak at night/early morning (see distinctly different colour of these samples; bottles at bottom left). Poor enforcement of industrial emission norms KSPCB’s main focus has been on regulating water pollution by industries. To fulfil this mandate, KSPCB uses two main instruments: providing consent for establishment and operation of upcoming/existing industries, and inspecting and enforcing effluent discharge standards on the effluents from industries in operation. In a growing economy, the first function (consent) itself demands a lot of time. As a result, 70–90% of a KSPCB environmental officer’s time is spent processing consents—mostly paperwork—rather than on monitoring, inspecting, and taking ac-

tion against polluters. And KSPCB has not augmented its staff strength to put greater efforts into inspection and enforcement, although it has the financial resources to do so. Moreover, KSPCB has not been very successful at prosecuting polluters. While the slowness of the Indian judicial system is certainly part of the problem (the median time for case disposal being 7 years), KSPCB lost two-thirds of the cases that did get disposed, indicating lacunaea in their prosecution as well3. 3

Lele, S., N. Heble, BK. Thomas, and P. Jamwal. 2015. Regulation and compliance in industrial water pollution: the case of the Vrishabhavathy river, Bangalore. Bengaluru: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment.

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KSPCB officials collect one-time ‘grab’ samples from the river once a month. Our team intensively monitored the Peenya industrial area sub-catchment for 1 year, collecting hourly samples over a 24-hour period, once every month, at three locations on the Peenya stream. Our results show high and legally unacceptable levels of heavy metals in the stream, whereas KSPCB data show lower levels (Table 1). The reason for this mismatch becomes clear from the graph and photograph in Figure 4. The major effluent discharges seem to be happening at night, and in large quantities, but that is not the time when KSPCB collects samples. Clearly, a more thorough and comprehensive monitoring system is needed. Governance issues The problem of pollution in the Vrishabhavathy river has been known for a long time, and the limitations faced by KSPCB—inadequacy of staff and poor prosecution—have also been known to the Board, itself, for a while. The lacunae in their monitoring strategies are also fairly obvious. But the agency has been slow in responding to these shortcomings. Our study suggests that this is a symptom of a deeper problem, that of governance structure. 111

The governing board of KSPCB consists of representatives from various state departments, non-official members nominated by the government to represent agriculture, fisheries, and industries, representatives from urban bodies, and heads of para-state bodies, such as BWSSB, that are responsible for sewerage. Given that these top-level bureaucrats keep changing, and the sewerage boards are actually potential polluters, the governing board has neither stability nor balance. There is no representation for the potential pollutees—the people who will suffer from the pollution. Nor is there any space for independent experts. Moreover, the Member-Secretary of KSPCB, who is effectively the CEO, is an officer of the Indian Forest Service on deputation for a few years. This is the norm in most Pollution Control Boards in India. If the governing board is to hold the CEO of any agency accountable, then the CEO must be a professional hired by the governing board, not someone with a permanent job elsewhere. Thus, at both the governing board and the CEO level, a major restructuring of the way Pollution Control Boards are governed is required4. Legal framework Our research also indicated that there are gaps in the legal framework that defines water quality and effluent discharge standards5. The Environmental Protection Act of 1986, and rules formulated under it (which subsume the older Water Act, 1974) lay down standards used for regulating water pollution in India. These include a set of standards for the quality of water at the point of discharge 4 Lele, S. and N. Heble. 2016. Changes in pollution board undermine accountability. Bengaluru: Deccan Herald. June 16: 11. 5 Jamwal, P., S. Lele, and M. Menon. 2016. Rethinking water quality standards in the context of urban rivers. In: Urbanization and the Environment: Eighth Biennial Conference of the Indian Society for Ecological Economics. Organised by IISc, ATREE and NIAS. Bengaluru. January 4–6, 2016.

from an industry, and a set of standards for the quality of water in surface water bodies, when the water is used for various purposes. Most of the focus in the rules, has been on the former, and so we have 39 parameters, including 14 heavy metals, being specified for when industries discharge (treated) water to surface water bodies. But if treated industrial effluents are used directly for, say, irrigation, then only 10 parameters are regulated, including only one heavy metal, i.e., arsenic. Even more surprising is the fact that there are no water quality standards in the law for inland water uses other than bathing. So if industries discharge effluents into a river, and then downstream farmers use this water for irrigation, which is now increasingly the case across the country, there are no standards specified for quality of water used for irrigation. All that exists is water quality â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;criteriaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; announced by the Central Pollution Control Board for various uses including drinking, bathing, fisheries and irrigation. Unfortunately, they do not contain any standards for heavy metals other than boron (which is a metalloid), or for any other chemicals. Nor are these standards legally enforceableâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; farmers cannot demand that the Pollution Control Board ensure the water they receive into their irrigation reservoirs meets irrigation quality criteria.

water body to the standard appropriate for that use, within a fixed time frame.

LOOKING AHEAD It is clear that we need a paradigm shift in the manner in which surface water pollution is regulated and managed in our country. First, at the outset, we need to recognise that the days of primarily rural catchments are behind us, and that industrial and other chemicals (now increasingly used in homes) are present in all catchments. Therefore, our regulatory framework must set standards for what are permissible concentrations of these chemicals. Second, urban use of water is largely non-consumptive and year-round. Thus, urbanisation often increases local flows, and may make previously seasonal streams and rivers perennial. Downstream communities are therefore increasingly interested in using these flows

for irrigation and fisheries. At the same time, upstream communities (e.g., urban residents) want to use water bodies, such as lakes and rivers, for recreation, environmental amenities, or storage/recharge functions. In all cases, pollution, especially chemical pollution, will pose a serious risk to these users, or to those who consume the products of agriculture or fishing. Therefore, the need of the hour is to set standards for all such uses and designate what use a water body is to be put to, so as to identify the goals of regulation. Third, more rigorous, innovative, transparent, and participatory approaches to monitoring the status of these water bodies will have to be coupled with equally rigorous and transparent monitoring of individual polluters. Fourth, the states must also pin the responsibility of domestic sewage treatment on the municipalities or para-state bodies that

It is almost as if the law was framed on the assumption that rivers that supply water for these uses have either pristine or rural catchments, where one needs to worry only about biological contamination. Given the fact that most rivers in India today carry both industrial and domestic untreated wastewater, it becomes important to revise these standards substantially, to legally notify them, and to put in place a statutory process for determining (through public participation) what should be the designated use of a particular water body; there should then be a legal requirement that Pollution Control Boards bring that

deal with water supply. At the same time, these agencies will have to re-think water treatment, not as a cost but as a benefit, as it can generate substantial water for reuse in increasingly water-scarce regions. A beginning has been made in this direction with the promotion of apartment-level treatment and reuse6, but much more can, and needs to, be done. Finally, for all this to happen, the restructuring of the Pollution Control Boards is required to make them more accountable. Pollution is too important an issue to be left to the Pollution Control Boards alone. Further Reading Amerasinghe, P., RM. Bhardwaj, C. Scott, K. Jella, and F. Marshall. 2013. Urban wastewater and agricultural reuse challenges in India. Research Report. Hyderabad: International Water Management Institute (IWMI).

6 Kuttuwa, P., S. Lele, and GV. Mendez. Decentralized wastewater systems in Bengaluru, India: success or failure? Water Economics and Policy (in press).

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Going with the flow? Urban wastewater and livelihoods change in peri-urban Bengaluru Bejoy K. Thomas, N. Deepthi and Priyanka Jamwal

INTRODUCTION As cities grow, peri-urban areas and surrounding villages undergo rapid changes in land use, environment and livelihoods. The conventional view on change in peri-urban areas is one of shifts in livelihoods away from agriculture towards urban jobs, as well as keeping lands fallow, to be taken up by real estate or industries. Further, people in peri-urban areas experience huge changes in the nature of and control over local natural resources. This is particularly so in the case of water resources. The demand for water from expanding cities is often met by sourcing it from peri-urban areas. In addition, domestic sewage and industrial discharges from cities put pressure on lakes and rivers, and the impact of pollution is felt in surrounding landscapes. Planners and policymakers have been grappling with the implications of such transformations for both agricultural production and environmental sustainability. Here we examine the case of peri-urban Bengaluru to ask the questions: is abandoning agriculture inevitable in the wake of urbanisation or can there be other trajectories? How have peri-urban farmers been responding to water pollution and changes in irrigation water quality? The growth of Bengaluru has been especially significant, with the city population increasing from 4 million in 1991 to 8 million in 2011 and the area from 226 km2 in 1995 to 741 km2 in 2007, due to a combination of factors such as natural growth, massive immigration and jurisdictional changes. The city has created opportunities for people in the neighbouring rural areas and there has been a steady movement out of agriculture to non-agricultural and city-based jobs. We studied the impact of Bengaluruâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s urbanisation on water resources and agriculture in the peri-urban areas taking the case of villages along two contrasting rivers downstream of Bengaluru viz., the Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi.

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Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi catchments form part of the Arkavathy sub-basin, itself part of the larger Cauvery basin. A large portion of the Arkavathy sub-basin (with a catchment area of 4,169 km2), from which Bengaluru city used to draw its water previously, is currently dry, primarily due to declining groundwater levels and cultivation of plantations, particularly eucalyptus, upstream (see Srinivasan et al, this volume). Bengaluruâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s current water requirement, domestic as well as industrial, is met by groundwater and by pumping water from the Cauvery river. This results in a return flow, which keeps Vrishabhavathy perennial. Vrishabhavathy (catchment area 561 km2), which originates inside the city, carries the cityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s domestic waste as well as industrial waste from Peenya and Bidadi industrial areas (see Jamwal and Lele, this volume). The reservoir at Byramangala on the Vrishabhavathy stores this water which is used by farmers downstream for irrigation through a canal system. Suvarnamukhi (catchment area 286 km2), on the other hand, fed by streams from the Bannerghatta forest, is relatively unpolluted, and unlike most other streams in the Arkavathy basin, flows for most part of the year, except in peak summer. We used a two-stage analysis to assess the extent of urbanisation and the impact on agrarian livelihoods and water resources in the two catchments. In the first stage, we analysed census data. In the second stage, we selected six villages lying along the river course, three each from the Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi catchments, for field research, conducted in 2013. Field research involved participatory rural appraisal tools, questionnaire surveys and water quality testing.

QUITTING OR STAYING IN AGRICULTURE? Our analysis of census data (1991, 2001 and 2011) showed that on the whole, there has been a clear shift from agriculture to non-ag-

Of the three villages that we had selected for detailed study along the Vrishabhavathy, none had moved away from agriculture (using the 30% cut off, based on census data) during the period 1991–2001, and just one moved to non-agricultural employment during the period 2001–2011. On the contrary, along the Suvarnamukhi river, just one village of the three was urbanised in 1991, and over the next decade (1991–2001), all three had more than 30% of working population employed in non-agricultural jobs. Our survey data showed a similar trend, with the number of households engaged in non-agricultural jobs increasing from 11% to 27% in Vrishabhavathy villages, and 4% to 38% in Suvarnamukhi villages during the period between the early 1990s to the present.

Figure 1: Trends in the proportion of agricultural cf non-agricultural employment in Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi river catchments (based on an analysis of census data from 1991-2011). Agricultural employment included farming, farm-labour, dairying and sericulture; non-agricultural employment included jobs in the city, or in nearby industrial areas. (Source: Village boundaries and classification are based on census data for respective years, mapped at the Ecoinformatics Lab, ATREE) ricultural employment in villages falling in both the Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi catchments during the last two decades. Contrary to this trend, livelihoods in the villages along the course of the Vrishabhavathy river, and in the command area of Byramangala reservoir, still centred around agriculture. While it is natural to point to availability of water for irrigation as the reason for this, a similar preference for agriculture was not evident in villages along the Suvarnamukhi river just a few kilometres away, which were not as water abundant, but were by no means water scarce. We explored this issue in detail. We examined the trend in ‘extent of urbanisation’ in Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi catchments in census villages downstream of the points where Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi exit the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahana-

gara Palike (BBMP) area (figure 1). We defined ‘extent of urbanisation’ as the proportion of non-agricultural workforce to total workforce, classifying villages where more than 30% of the workforce is employed in non-agricultural occupations as urbanised. We included farming, farm-labour, dairying and sericulture in agricultural work. Other jobs, whether citybased, or in industrial areas close by, were considered non-agricultural. We drew upon census data for the years 1991, 2001 and 2011 to create the maps. As the figure shows, over the period 1991–2011, there is a sharp increase in the number of villages across both catchments where more than 30% of the working population is engaged in non-agricultural employment. Interestingly, the villages where agriculture is still the mainstay are concentrated around the Vrishabhavathy, especially in the Byramangala command area. 116

A possible ‘biophysical’ explanation for the movement out of agriculture in the Suvarnamukhi catchment would be lack of availability or access to water. However, even as we found increased groundwater dependence (largely a 1990s trend), gradual increase in depth at which water was first sighted in borewells, and several instances of failed borewells in the 1990–2013 period, both the Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi catchments are better endowed with irrigation water compared to the rest of the Arkavathy sub-basin. Census (village amenities) figures showed that the total irrigated area increased from 17% to 28% in Suvarnamukhi catchment and from 19% to 28% in Vrishabhavathy catchment, during 1991–2001 (data from 2011 census was not available). Of the total irrigated area, surface water (river) irrigated area constituted 42% in the Suvarnamukhi catchment in 1991, declining to 35% in 2001. In the Vrishabhavathy catchment, there was a marginal decline in surface-water irrigated area from 57% in 1991 to 54% in 2001. Our survey data also showed a similar picture as the census with respect to irrigation. Irrigated area constituted 86.5% of the total area cultivated by households we surveyed in the three Vrishab117

havathy villages in 2013, and the corresponding figure for the three Suvarnamukhi villages was 68%. Of the total irrigated area, 66% in the Vrishabhavathy villages and 38.5% in the Suvarnamukhi villages used surface water. There is apparently little variation in irrigation water availability between villages in the two catchments that we surveyed. Our household surveys showed that the depth at which water was found in recently drilled borewells (drilled between 2008 and 2013) for agricultural households was in the range of 36.5 to 121 m (120 to 400 ft) in the Vrishabhavathy villages and 38 to 121 m (125 to 400 ft) in the Suvarnamukhi villages. Most Vrishabhavathy villages, especially the ones in the command area of Byramangala reservoir, cultivate monsoon and summer crops, as do some in the Suvarnamukhi catchment, particularly the downstream villages. Interestingly then, households have been gradually quitting agriculture post-1990 in the Suvarnamukhi catchment, although there has not been a drastic decline in water availability. On the other hand, the Vrishabhavathy villages saw households largely staying in agriculture, despite being more or less similar to the Suvarnamukhi villages in proximity and exposure to the city. What might explain this difference in trajectories and responses to urbanisation?

Wastewater irrigation in the Byramangala command area. (Photo: Nakul Heble)

CROPPING PATTERN IN VRISHABHAVATHY VILLAGES, 1990–2013 Cropping pattern in both Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi villages were comparable till the 1990s. From our households’ survey, we found that in 1990, ragi (finger millet) and paddy used to be grown in 70% of the area under cultivation in Vrishabhavathy villages and 79% in Suvarnamukhi villages. The quality of water in Vrishabhavathy began eroding steadily during the 1990s with the expansion of Bengaluru and the establishment of new industrial areas upstream in the Vrishabhavathy catchment. Surface water, as well as groundwater, were affected. There was substantial reduction in returns from crops such as paddy and sugarcane cultivated in poor quality water, compared to good quality water. Studies have also established heavy metal contamination in water in Byramangala reservoir and command area, resulting from the mixing of industrial waste with domestic sewage (see Jamwal & Lele, this volume). While water quality deteriorated and made cultivation of sugarcane and paddy difficult, farmers adapted by trying out other crops

that could withstand and gain from the nutrient-rich wastewater. Baby corn, a high value commercial crop, proved successful, catering to the growing demand in the Bengaluru metropolis and elsewhere, and bringing in steady returns to the farmers. The production and procurement of baby corn in Vrishabhavathy villages was facilitated by private agencies such as the Namdhari Seeds Group, which owns the Namdhari’s Fresh supermarket chain. Baby corn is a post-2000 phenomenon, with the earliest baby corn farmer in our sample reporting having started cultivation in 2002. In 2013, baby corn occupied as much as 20% of the area cultivated by our respondents in Vrishabhavathy catchment (nil in 1990), and another commercial crop, mulberry, used for sericulture, occupied 22% (6% in 1990). With water not suitable for cultivation, many farmers resorted to growing fodder, which occupied close to 9% of cultivated area in 2013. Between 1990 and 2013, the area under ragi and paddy registered a massive decline from 70% to 27%. As we noted earlier, the crops are irrigated, largely by surface water. The nutrient-rich and perennial Vrishabhavathy, along with a steady and growing market for commercial crops, has kept the villages in the Vrishabhavathy catchment in agriculture.

declined from 79% to 45% during 1990–2013, but not as much as in Vrishabhavathy catchment. The decline has been made up by crops including coconut (nil in 1990 and 17% in 2013) and mulberry (2% in 1990 and 12% in 2013). Ragi and paddy require high labour input and are grown nowadays mostly for their own consumption. Agriculture is a viable option in Suvarnamukhi villages, but not as attractive as non-agricultural employment in the city or in the industrial areas close by. Over time, the region has witnessed a shift towards less labour-intensive crops, and in general, a move out of agriculture as we noted earlier. Of our sample households, 55% in the three Vrishabhavathy villages, and 28% in the Suvarnamukhi villages, attributed the reason for crop change to better income, while the responses did not vary much with regards to water availability as a factor leading to crop change (14% in Vrishabhavathy and 15% in Suvarnamukhi). Paddy (54%) was seen to be the most adversely impacted by deteriorating water quality amongst respondents in the Vrishabhavathy villages. On the other hand, fodder (44%), input for dairying, which has become a major activity in the region during the past several years, and baby corn (37%), were viewed as having benefitted from wastewater irrigation.

Suvarnamukhi villages have also seen a move away from ragi and paddy, the area of which

IMPACT OF WASTEWATER AGRICULTURE Deteriorating water quality in the Byramangala reservoir and Vrishabhavathy river has been a topic of discussion in the popular press and civil society circles for some time now. Our research looked at the reasons for this and the extent of contamination. Results from our assessment of the Vrishabhavathy valley wastewater treatment plant showed that there was no positive impact of treated effluent discharge on river water quality. Thus, the wastewater being used for irrigation largely consists of untreated sewage. One third of all farm households that we surveyed in the Vrishabhavathy villages reported

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skin ailments (and unsurprisingly, none in the Suvarnamukhi villages), which could be attributed to the contaminated water they use for cultivation. While the farmers and residents in the villages are concerned about the visibly bad water, the never-ending stink, and mosquito menace, they seem to be oblivious to a more serious threat that is lurking in the background. We tested for heavy metal concentrations in milk, vegetables, groundwater (used for drinking), and irrigation water, in the villages where we carried out the household survey, and found that 98% of irrigation water samples, 68% of drinking water samples, 77% of vegetable samples, and 85% of milk samples exceeded limits prescribed by existing standards. The impact of industrial waste and heavy metal contamination on human health will not be visible as skin ailments are, but will be apparent only in the long term. Even when the levels of heavy metals may not be above the standards in all the sites and for all the samples, there are multiple channels through which they enter the human body, such as water, vegetables, and milk, all consumed by the same person, which can have a cumulative impact. Heavy metal contamination may have already entered the food chain, thereby posing a health risk to consumers of vegetables, and milk produced by cows feeding on fodder grown in contaminated water. It is important to conduct a systematic assessment of health risk to farmers in the region, and to urban consumers of farm produce. Epidemiological studies can throw light on the severity of the problem and make clear the impact of wastewater irrigation on human health.

FINAL REMARKS The contrasting experience of Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi villages offer some interesting pointers in conceptualising responses of peri-urban agrarian communities to urbanisation as well as in planning water

lihoods, and environmental—perhaps under the umbrella of political ecology.

Byramangala reservoir, from where Bengaluru’s wastewater flows downstream for irrigation through canals. Note the froth visible at the outlet of the reservoir. (Photo: T. Md. Zuhail) management in such settings. While peri-urban areas are witnessing tremendous social and economic change, explanations for these changes are varied in the scholarly literature. A classical political economy approach would characterise the change in terms of changing agrarian relations (e.g., land ownership, tenure), whereas a development perspective would view it in terms of livelihoods change (e.g., migration, diversification). What has been overlooked in these approaches are the environmental factors that might have triggered the change. Even while they are acknowledged, they either do not figure prominently in the analytical schemes or get subsumed under other systemic factors. While the Suvarnamukhi villages followed the conventional narrative that urbanisation leads to abandoning of agriculture, the farmers in villages fed by Vrishabhavathy adapted to changes brought about by the expanding city and largely stayed in agriculture. What has made the difference is the availability of nutrient-rich urban wastewater. A fuller explanation of the transformation that peri-urban areas downstream of Vrishabhavathy and Suvarnamukhi rivers have undergone is possible by combining insights from the three modes of thinking—classical agrarian, live-

The response of farmers in Vrishabhavathy villages raises questions of values, interests, and institutions. First, wastewater reuse has become a feature of peri-urban agriculture with many scholars and agencies actively advocating it. The framing of the problem seems to centre around the inevitability of urbanisation and the dependence of the peripheries on the urban core. The Vrishabhavathy farmers seem to have successfully adapted to the changes triggered by Bengaluru’s growth, by experimenting with and eventually switching to different and more economically profitable crops. However, whose adaptation are we talking about if, as we saw, irrigation using heavy-metal-laden wastewater poses risk to the health of farmers and agricultural labourers who work in contaminated water, putting their well-being and sustainability of the practice in question? In addition, it is also possible that the urban consumers of farm produce, such as baby corn, are also not spared, and the contamination comes back to them through the food chain. Second, planners need to be mindful of the multiple actors and competing interests at various scales, city/village and state, catchment/sub-basin and basin, while attempting to address issues of water management across the urban, peri-urban, and rural continuum. Wastewater reuse is a stated objective of many urban administrative and water supply bodies, including the Bengaluru Water Supply and Sewerage Board (BWSSB). Improvements in wastewater treatment infrastructure and supply may enhance the demand for treated water in urban centres. This, in turn, will deprive the peri-urban and rural users downstream of irrigation water. In the case of Bengaluru, wastewater reuse in the city will considerably reduce the flows in Vrishabhavathy, affecting agriculture, and thereby livelihoods, of farmers in the command area of the Byramangala reservoir. Reduced flows would also mean increased con120

centration of contaminants, aggravating health risk. Wastewater reuse upstream becomes especially complex when inter-state commitments and political interests are involved as in the case of Bengaluru. Vrishabhavathy is fed mostly by return flows of Cauvery supply, and in the event of massive recycling upstream, and reduced flows, Bengaluru may not be able to meet the obligations under the inter-state Cauvery Water Disputes Tribunal (CWDT). Third, there are several institutional challenges to be addressed if wastewater reuse is to become a viable option for the future. Facilities for wastewater treatment in cities and newly emerging urban areas are grossly inadequate compared to the quantum of wastewater generated. There is often no separation between domestic and industrial wastewater and both get mixed as in the case of the Byramangala reservoir in the Vrishabhavathy stream. Cities are home to numerous small-scale industrial units, several of which do not end up in the official lists of pollution control agencies. Even when they do, it is not economically feasible for them to set up an in-house pollution control infrastructure. The idea of Common Effluent Treatment Plants (CETPs) initiated to address this problem has met with limited uptake. Wastewater irrigation would be viable only when cities are able to separate industrial effluents that cause health hazards, from sewage, which has potential benefits in irrigation.

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Further reading Amerasinghe, P., RM. Bhardwaj, C. Scott, K. Jella and F. Marshall. 2013. Urban Wastewater and Agricultural Reuse Challenges in India. IWMI Research Report, 147. Colombo, Sri Lanka: IWMI. Centre for Science and Environment. 2012. Excreta Matters: 71 cities: a survey (Vol. II), 71. Delhi: CSE. Naraina, V., MSA. Khan, R. Sada, S. Singh, and A. Prakash. 2013. Urbanization, peri-urban water (in)security and human well-being: a perspective from four South Asian cities. Water International 38(7): 930–40. Qadir, M., D. Wichelns, L. Raschid-Sally, PG. McCornick, P. Drechsel, A. Bahri, and PS. Minhas. 2010. The challenges of wastewater irrigation in developing countries. Agricultural Water Management 97(4): 561–8. Wastewater irrigation and health: assessing and mitigating risk in low-income countries. 2009. (eds. Drechsel, P., CA. Scott, L. Raschid-Sally, M. Redwood, and A. Bahri). London and Sterling, VA: Earthscan with IDRC and IWMI.

INTRODUCTION Urban areas in India have been experiencing unprecedented population and economic growth in the last decade. As cities grow and incomes rise, a new challenge has arisen: that of supplying domestic water reliably, and of reasonable quality, to this rapidly growing urban population, while ensuring that the well-being of future generations is not jeopardised.

Whose river? The changing waterscape of the upper Arkavathy under urbanisation Veena Srinivasan, Sharachchandra Lele, Bejoy K. Thomas and Priyanka Jamwal

The implications of this unprecedented urbanisation on water resources are only beginning to be understood. The story of the Arkavathy sub-basin, on the outskirts of Bengaluru city, offers rich insights into the complex interactions between urbanising areas and their surrounding hinterlands. A semi-arid catchment with an average annual rainfall of 830 mm, it overlaps with the western portion of the rapidly growing metropolis of Bengaluru. The main tributary of the Arkavathy river has its headwaters in the Nandi Hills, north of Bengaluru, and is joined by its first major tributary, the Kumudavathy river at Thippagondanahalli (TG Halli) village. At this confluence, the TG Halli reservoir, with a catchment area of 1447 km2, was constructed in 1933. The reservoir’s current storage capacity can supply 149 MLD (million litres per day) to Bengaluru city. An older reservoir, Hesaraghatta, constructed in 1896 to supply 36 MLD to Bengaluru, is located further upstream on the Arkavathy river1 (see Figure 1).

THE CHANGING WATERSCAPE Historical development

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For many centuries, irrigation was only possible in the command areas of these tanks, agricultural land adjacent to streams and rivers, and areas where the groundwater table was shallow. Groundwater was accessed via large open wells about 10–20 m (about 30–60 feet) deep. Typically, wealthier, upper-caste farmers owned land in tank command areas and used the tank water to irrigate paddy, sugarcane, and other crops. The tanks themselves were communally managed, and the sluices were operated by neergantis (village watermen). The neergantis, a hereditary post, received a share of the harvest for their efforts. On the one hand, tanks reinforced the existing social hierarchies, albeit while increasing the total agricultural surplus in the villages. On the other hand, the productivity of the landscape was limited by the amount of runoff that could be captured and stored in these tanks. Contemporary changes

The original scrub forest of the Arkavathy catchment was gradually cleared to make way for cultivation as early settlers moved in, 1 Lele, S., V. Srinivasan, P. Jamwal, BK. Thomas, M. Eswar, and TMd. Zuhail. 2013. Water management in Arkavathy basin: a situation analysis. Environment and Development Discussion Paper No.1. Bengaluru: Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment.

Reshu Singh

probably several thousand years ago. The rulers between the 10th and 17th centuries constructed a series of small earthen bunds on the tributaries to store runoff in small water bodies or ‘tanks’ to create sources of water for irrigation and other domestic water uses. The catchment has an estimated 617 such tanks. These tanks would capture part of the surface flows in the stream, and the overflow would cascade to the next tank in the chain. In effect, this system of small, cascading tanks captured some of the streamflow for providing irrigation to the local community while also allowing significant flow to downstream communities.

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The most significant and visible change in the Arkavathy catchment over the past 3–4 decades is that the inflows into TG Halli reservoir have gradually declined by almost 80–90%. Other tanks in the catchment also exhibit a drying trend, and in fact interviews with neergantis suggest tank-based irrigation has

both drilling time and costs, allowing farmers to drill deeper in search of water. This meant that farmers’ choice of crops was no longer limited by the amount of rainfall in a particular season. They could access groundwater recharged in previous years, or even previous decades.

Figure 1. Map of TG Halli catchment showing TG Halli and Hesaraghatta reservoirs. The catchment includes the towns of Nelamangala and Doddaballapur and a part of Peenya Industrial Area in Bengaluru city. completely stopped over the last 2 decades. What might explain the complete disappearance of surface water irrigation and concomitantly, the inflows into TG Halli reservoir? There are several possible causes of decline, or some combination thereof (see Figure 2). We examined all possible causes of this decline2. There could be a decrease in water coming into the catchment (i.e., declining rainfall over the years); or there could be an increase in water leaving the catchment (increased temperature and land use change leading to greater evapotranspiration through plantations or irrigation). Analysis of the historical rainfall from 4 rain gauge locations within the catchment suggests that neither annual average rainfall nor daily rainfall intensities have changed significant2 Srinivasan, V., S. Thompson, K. Madhyastha, G. Penny, K. Jeremiah, and S. Lele. 2015. Why is the Arkavathy river drying? a multiple-hypothesis approach in a data-scarce region. Hydrology and Earth System Sciences 19(4): 1905–17.

ly. Potential evapotranspiration also did not change significantly, so the inflow decline could not be explained by the higher temperatures causing trees to take up more water. Rather, direct anthropogenic factors are to blame. The rise of borewell irrigation Our analysis suggests that groundwater over-exploitation has played a key role in the disappearance of the Arkavathy River. The region is underlain by hard-rock aquifers with the upper aquifer highly weathered and water-bearing, but 50–60m below ground level (BGL) there are mostly massive rock formations with fewer fractures. The frequency of occurrence of these fractures decreases with depth. Till the 1960s, well drilling was severely constrained by the ability to drill into hard rock formations. A new borewell drilling technology called ‘down-the-hole’ (DTH) drilling that arrived in the late 1960s completely altered the waterscape. The DTH technology decreased 124

Groundwater irrigation also became the great leveller. Previously, irrigation was only available to land owners (usually the upper-caste elite) in tank command areas, for a limited period, and according to customary rights. Borewells allowed farmers outside the valleys and canal command areas access to irrigation. Indeed, early government schemes offered free or subsidised borewells to Scheduled Caste and Scheduled Tribe (SC/ST) individuals, who tended to own farmland outside the tank command areas. Even within the tank command areas, many farmers drilled borewells and were no more dependent upon the communally managed tanks, and the timing and quantum of water released from them. To promote groundwater ‘development,’ the government introduced a low flat rate electricity tariff in the 1980s, which meant that the farmers did not have to worry about either the depth from which they were pumping water or the volume of water they pumped. Empowered with electricity subsidies, borewell drilling grew rapidly in the 1980s and 1990s. The early borewells drilled in the late 1970s report the groundwater table at 5–7 m BGL. These were typically drilled up to depths of 10–20 m. But with no restrictions on pumping, groundwater tables across the Arkavathy catchment began to rapidly decline. By the early 1990s, the shallow weathered aquifer had completely become de-watered. Farmers began to drill deeper to tap the increasingly infrequent water bearing fractures below, and this slowly led to frequent failure of borewells. Despite the declining water table and high rate of failure, borewell drilling has not 125

slowed. In fact, paradoxically, the number of borewells continues to increase rapidly even today. Borewells in rural areas of the catchment currently average 250–350 m BGL. Interestingly, analysis of secondary data suggests that despite the increase in the number of wells, irrigated area has actually declined in the last decade. There are indications that borewell yields have declined significantly as the borewells have gotten deeper, consistent with the geology of declining fracture densities. This has led to adoption of water-efficient irrigation technologies such as drip and sprinkler systems to some extent. The rise of eucalyptus In the early 1980s, another set of pertinent, but unrelated developments took place. Under a World Bank aided scheme called the “Social Forestry Programme,” farmers

began to get interested in eucalyptus trees in a big way. While the original intent of the Social Forestry Programme was to promote fodder, timber, fuelwood, and horticulture species on village common lands, eucalyptus as a species (in this case Eucalyptus globulus) only provides small timber and softwood for the paper and synthetic fibre industries. The area under eucalyptus plantations in 1973, as indicated by Survey of India topo-sheets, was only 11 km2, all of it within the boundaries of State Reserve Forests. By 2001, the area under eucalyptus plantations had increased to 104 km2, and by 2013 almost 280 km2 of the catchment area was under eucalyptus plantations, the vast majority of it on private lands. The motivations for farmers to shift from agriculture to eucalyptus plantations has very little in common with the original goals of the Social Forestry Programme. Most farmers cite the difficulty in obtaining labour for agriculture, and the desire for upward mobility to white collar urban jobs, as the reason. Evidence of the impact of eucalyptus on water resources is quite well established through numerous studies in South India conducted in the 1990s. The studies suggest that eucalyp-

tus has a very high transpirational efficiency, in the sense that it is able to convert water absorbed into biomass very efficiently. However, in the absence of water and nutrient limitations, eucalyptus trees grow very fast and use a lot of water overall, per unit land area. In all sites studied in South India, eucalyptus water use far exceeded that of the rain-fed millet. In deeper soils, eucalyptus roots can penetrate the soil at a rate of >2.5 m per year, and if water is available in the soil column, the transpiration can exceed rainfall in a given year. Thus, there is every reason to believe that the largescale conversion of rain-fed agricultural land (annually transpiring 300–400 mm of water) to eucalyptus (transpiring between 600 mm to as much as 1300 mm of water, if the roots are able to access groundwater) has increased total evapotranspiration and decreased the amount of water making it past the root zone and reaching the groundwater table, i.e., groundwater recharge. Watershed development as a silver bullet solution Starting in the late 1990s, alarm bells were raised over rapidly declining groundwater

Figure 2. Climatic factors alone cannot explain the decline of inflows into TG Halli reservoir. Groundwater pumping, eucalyptus plantations and watershed development also play a major role 126

tables. The solution that emerged to address this was ‘watershed development’. Check dams—small masonry structures, 1–2 m in height—were constructed along the first and second-order streams to arrest runoff and allow water to percolate into the ground. Indiscriminate construction to increase recharge has meant that today, the check dam density in parts of the catchment is ~2 structures/km2 of catchment area. Our preliminary studies show that much of the runoff is being trapped, especially in low rainfall years. About 20% evaporates and the rest is redistributed in the unsaturated zone. Only a fraction reaches the groundwater table.

DRIVERS OF CHANGE Although electricity is free or subsidised, farmers nevertheless have to make large investments in groundwater abstraction technologies (drilling the borehole, submersible pumps, piping, casing, etc.), and in the case of eucalyptus, they have to forego regular returns from seasonal crops for 6-yearly returns. Yet, the number of borewells and the area under eucalyptus is continuing to rise. What might be driving this behaviour? The answer lies in the growth of Bengaluru as a thriving ‘global city’ and its economic influence that extends far beyond its borders to the peri-urban and surrounding rural areas. As job opportunities became available in the city and the surrounding industrial areas, rural youth became less interested in agriculture. As labour and groundwater for agriculture disappeared, farmers were left with two options. Many farmers switched to eucalyptus plantations, as it required far less labour and investment. They were able to obtain returns from their land comparable to rain-fed agriculture (~Rs. 10,000/ha/year), but it freed up their time to pursue alternative occupations. Other (usually wealthier and risk-taking) farmers went deeper for groundwater but could only justify the capital expenditure by switching 127

to horticulture or floriculture3. The proximity of a major city like Bengaluru opened up new markets for these high-value cash crops.

SHIFTING MANAGEMENT STRATEGY The story of the Arkavathy in TG Halli catchment has been about the complete transformation of surface water, a public resource controlled by the government, to groundwater, a common pool private resource abstracted by individuals. This has been driven by technological change as well as the changes in employment opportunities and agricultural product markets due to the proximity of a major, growing city like Bengaluru. Authority over the water resources of TG Halli is spread between many different agencies, each with its own mandate and stakeholders. As stakeholder interests have changed with the changing economic circumstances and water resource availability, agency responses have also changed. Phase 1 (1975–1995): Shift to groundwater, plantations Stakeholder interests Farmer stakes shot up after the 1970s as groundwater became accessible through borewell technology. While earlier, irrigation was only an option for farmers in command areas of irrigation tanks, lower cost of fast drilling technologies allowed irrigation to become a viable option for all farmers. Policy responses In the early phase of groundwater exploitation, the main policy objective was to promote “groundwater development.” The 3

Thomas, BK., M. Eswar, SD. Kenchaigol, V. Srinivasan, and S. Lele. 2015. Enhancing resilience or furthering vulnerability? Responses to water stress in an urbanizing basin in Southern India. In: Fourth Global Meeting, Organised by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, May 7-9, 2¬015

taneously declined, BWSSB’s interest in TG Halli gradually waned. TG Halli water today amounts to just a small fraction (1%) of BWSSB’s supply. In the last few years, for the first time, sewage and industrial effluent inflows have been entering TG Halli reservoir from Bengaluru’s expanding fringe.

government of Karnataka adopted the policy of low, flat-rate electricity tariffs to allow groundwater irrigation to increase. Independently, as Bengaluru’s demand for domestic water grew beyond the capacity of TG Halli reservoir and TG Halli inflows declined, BWSSB (Bengaluru Water Supply and Sewerage Board, responsible for water supply and sewerage within Bengaluru city) increased its withdrawals from the far-away Cauvery. Phase 2 (1995–2005): Commercial agriculture, deep groundwater extraction

Dry bed of TG Halli Reservoir. (Photo: T. Zuhail)

Stakeholder interests Over time, farmers’ interests in the type of agriculture also changed. Traditional, subsistence food grain crops that were predominantly rain-fed, declined, to be replaced by commercial horticultural crops and vegetables, all of which are water-intensive. The irrigated area continued to expand both in absolute terms and as a fraction of cultivated area, despite depleting groundwater levels, and borewell failure. Farmers began to drill many more, and deeper wells. Simultaneously, the area under eucalyptus also continued to expand.

catchment. A decade later, most of these regulations remain unimplemented.

Policy responses By the mid-1990s, BWSSB got really alarmed about declining stream flows into TG Halli. In 2000, the Bangalore Metropolitan Region Development Authority (BMRDA) commissioned the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) to diagnose the problem. ISRO’s study also found steady declines in tank inflows, attributable to a range of causes including inadequate wastewater treatment, and direct discharge of pollutants from industry and domestic sewage into storm drains and streams. It recommended the creation of 4 zones around TG Halli reservoir and the main river channels, and the placing of restrictions on new constructions, eucalyptus plantations, and groundwater extraction. However, these were never implemented, as lack of jurisdiction limited what BWSSB or BMRDA could do in the Arkavathy

Stakeholder interests With expanding urbanisation, stakeholder interests in the catchment gradually shifted from agriculture to urban, commercial interests. Since 2005, for the first time, the region has seen a decline in irrigated agriculture, both in absolute terms and as a fraction of cultivated area. The proximity of Bengaluru to the peri-urban and rural parts of the Arkavathy catchment has created diversified income opportunities. So, rainfed farmers diversified their dependence on non-agricultural activities, and many farmers in peri-urban areas abandoned cultivation in anticipation of high land prices.

As groundwater levels declined and wells began to fail, the groundwater department and village panchayats increasingly began to invest in watershed development projects in response to farmer concerns over groundwater depletion, inadvertently causing further reductions in streamflows. Phase 3 (2005–2015): Expanding urbanisation

Over this period, as the multiple stages of water supply from the Cauvery were commissioned and inflows into TG Halli simul128

Policy responses The current situation is a fragmented set of policy responses that reflect divergent stakeholder interests and fragmented understanding of the hydrology. As TG Halli’s importance for Bengaluru’s water security has declined, the deterioration in the quantity and quality of water coming into TG Halli became less relevant to the citizens of Bengaluru. TG Halli is now only valuable because of its reservoir storage capacity, not for the water itself. Reflecting this, recent plans for TG Halli involve using it to store either treated wastewater or the planned diversions of water via inter-basin projects such as the Yettinahole project. Likewise, in recent years, a number of citizen’s groups and social movements have emerged with the objective of ‘rejuvenating the Arkavathy river’. These movements are driven by a range of underlying motivations including urban elite looking for recreational or spiritual spaces, and rural environmentalism driven by farmers concerned over disappearing water. Responding to these demands, the Cauvery Neeravari Nigam Ltd. (CNNL), a quasi-state-government agency, was given responsibility for rejuvenating the Arkavathy river. But in practical terms, they have focused on the wrong end of the problem—removal of vegetation and encroachments in the stream channels to remove ‘obstructions’ to a non-existent flow, and de-silting of tank beds to store more non-existent inflows. Additionally, in response to widespread concerns over groundwater depletion, the Karnataka Groundwater Authority was created by an Act in 2011. The Authority was given 129

the mandate to regulate groundwater in the state, but has yet to put in place any rules to regulate pumping. At present, the only action undertaken is a requirement for registration of all borewells in the state. However, to date, even these rules do not appear to be enforced. Finally, in recent months, the BWSSB has completely stopped using water from TG Halli. In response to lawsuits, the High Court, in its environmental activism, has been focused on enforcing zoning within the TG Halli catchment, mainly to control pollution while also commissioning studies to ‘rejuvenate’ the river. However, the non-dependence on TG Halli, the fragmented jurisdictions, and the poor understanding of the hydrology means that nothing significant is really being done.

THE WAY FORWARD Many of these changes occurring in the TG Halli catchment are difficult to regulate practically by public policy instruments, as they are driven by private decisions of lakhs of land owners. Moreover, a number of agencies are in charge of different interconnected components of the water resources in the region. These agencies each respond to their own mandates, and have different understandings of the system depending on their training and stakeholder interests. Given this complex reality, what is the way forward? There are no simple answers. The science tells us that groundwater over-extraction, watershed interventions such as check dams, and indiscriminate land-cover change to eucalyptus are inevitably going to reduce downstream flows. But who gets to decide who has a greater right on the water—upstream farmers (who are growing vegetables for the city or flowers for export), or downstream Bengaluru (which already gets a lot of water from the Cauvery)? Even if Bengaluru gives up its claim to surface flows, what about small towns whose municipal borewells are

TG Halli catchment is dotted with dry dug wells like this one. (Photo: T. Zuhail) drying up, or small farmers who cannot afford to drill to 300 m? What is needed is a public consultation (either under the aegis of a single watershed authority, or a joint meeting with all relevant agencies) that makes these trade-offs clear. Such a consultation must negotiate a vision for the TG Halli reservoir and catchment that is acceptable to all stakeholders. Then all agencies must execute rules that are consistent with the common vision.

Further reading Calder, IR., RL. Hall, and KT. Prasanna. 1993. Hydrological impact of eucalyptus plantation in India. Journal of Hydrology 150(2–4): 635–648. Milly, PCD, J. Betancourt, M. Falkenmark, RM. Hirsch, ZW. Kundzewicz, DP. Lettenmaier, and RJ. Stouffer. 2008. Stationarity is dead: whither water management? Science 319(5863): 573–574.

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Perspectives on Conservation and Development

A cultural crisis amidst the ecological crisis: Critiquing the conservationist understanding of culture Siddhartha Krishnan

Prabha Mallya 132

Introduction: CULTURAL BLINKERS Culture has played a prosaic, yet limited, role amongst conservationists. Culture is either invoked as a proxy, serving as place holder for a people, or invoked in terms of expressive aspects such as dancing, singing, cooking, cultivating, or storytelling. For a powerful instance where these two aspects combine, consider ‘indigenous’ cultures and their traditional routines and habits of caring for, and celebrating, biodiversity. This essay is a conversation on culture that I, as an anthropologically sensitive sociologist, have been wanting to have with my ecologist, economist, and political ecology colleagues and students. I also hope that the conservationist who chances upon this conversation will see my point. Yes, efficiency as either a rational or capitalist value, does conflict with the political value of rights, and these conflicts are recognised in conservation. But, culture, here, tends to be reduced to identities and behaviour—whether modern, calculative, and efficient; or traditional, customary, and political. A valid grouse the ‘political’ scientist and student have against the ‘apolitical’ and ‘efficient’ scientist and student is that, the valuation of resources, far from being a logical and natural solution to any resource crisis, is just a neo-liberal ideology that invests unquestioning faith in the markets. Such valuations came into vogue ever since the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (MEA) formulated the ecosystems services (ESS) framework. The MEA designated certain ecosystem functions like fodder availability and flood control, as ‘provisioning’ and ‘regulating’ services, respectively. The MEA also designated certain ecosystem services as ‘cultural’. These included recreational, aesthetic, inspirational, and spiritual opportunities. An ecosystem is also claimed to provision a subjective sense of culture and place. Culture, in the ESS scheme, is simply invoked in its expressive dimensions, 133

whether playing, praying, painting, or picnicking. For a sociologist and anthropologist, it is disquieting that economists and ecologists who spearheaded the MEA may actually believe that this is all there is to culture. While I engage with a certain capitalist culture of valuation that dominates the ESS arena, my concentration, and consternation, are on how culture itself is understood—it is deterministically assumed that it is produced by nature, and reduced to an expressive dimension dependent on ecosystems. Such an environmentally deterministic understanding is a powerful and popular one preceding the MEA. The ecologist, Jared Diamond, even won a Pulitzer in 1998 for writing that climate and crop made temperate states powerful. Such determinism persists and is now epitomised in the ESS framing of culture as provisioned by forests, beaches, or savannah. The ESS framework promotes culture as a service or benefit to society that ecosystems provision. Further, the services framework has become both a conceptual lexicon among conservationists, and an arena of serious interdisciplinary research with professed policy merit. What follows, is largely an anthropological and sociological debunking of this value, and also, tangentially, a political critique of a certain capitalist culture of valuing ostensible services of an ecosystem, specifically culture. Anthropology students and their supervisors have had to undertake difficult treks into the ‘culture theory jungle’, given the sheer diversity of research on what culture means. I shall take the reader on a conceptual trek through the ‘cultural’ ecosystem. By way of an itinerary, we stop first at ‘culture’, a chiefly anthropological territory, and then enter sociological territory. Here we first enjoy some ‘leisure culture’, then acquaint ourselves with some ‘cultural relativism’, later gain some ‘cultural capital’, and then finally trace the ahistorical and elitist culture of price-tagging resources or services.

CULTURE: RUMBLE IN THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL JUNGLE The classical definition of culture emerged from Britain in 1871. For many centuries, Britain famously valued and preserved its landscape ‘amenities’—the historical foundation of the ‘ecosystems services’ idea. Contained in this ‘holistic’ definition is a sense of culture that ecologists and economists perhaps unintentionally drew upon for the ESS framework. For English anthropologist, Edward B. Taylor, culture or civilisation entailed a complex of knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and acquired capabilities and habits. But unlike the ESS definition, culture, here, is about human custom, capability, and habit acquired as society members, not ecosystem dependents; the stuff of human interactions and not human interactions with nature. This broad classic definition of culture does not lend credence to the ESS school’s bestowal of forests or pastures with abilities to provision human custom and habit. Culture, as defined later in 1968 by Rappaport, an American ecological anthropologist, is the distinctive means by which a local population maintains itself in an ecosystem. This is an adaptation definition with cultural practices and beliefs or ‘tools’—including physical implements—serving as means. Culture, here, be it in the form of knowledge, norm, or knife, is a resource that emerges from within human interaction and organisation. With culture, so conceived, there remains little or no scope for ecosystems to serve exclusively as a cultural source.

as experienced and lead) aspects of human life. Kluckhohn’s Harvard student and North American anthropology superstar, Clifford Geertz, ‘cut’ his mentor’s definition to size. He provided in 1973, what has become the classic cognitive definition of culture. Culture, for him, was inherited conceptions expressed in symbolic forms, with which humans communicated and perpetuated their knowledge and attitudes. Description of physical behaviours such as playing, picnicking, or praying in a forest could, for Geertz, only be ‘thin description’. But the anthropologist has to ‘thickly’ describe—a Geertzian method of intense, and detailed interpretation for meaning hidden in such acts, for instance how the family patriarch controls activity in the forest picnic. At best, ecosystems can provide context to behaviour and activity. Behaviour is symbolic and communicates meaning that an anthropologist needs to interpret. When people meditate on a river bank, or do so half immersed in the river, culture lies in the act of dry or half-wet praying, rather than being provisioned by the river ecosystem. Humans culturally select ecosystems for symbolic activity.

Earlier in 1952, anthropologists, Alfred L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn, in taking stock of all prevailing definitions of culture, came up with a more cognitive definition that paid attention to how one ‘knows’ and ‘perceives’. Founded upon meaning and communication, this definition of culture confined itself to the linguistic, symbolic, and meaningful (life 134

The MEA may have merely been pointing to ecosystems as being important for symbolic activity. Perhaps, as just contexts to recreational or spiritual behaviour that bear symbolic meaning, can the Amazonian or Himalayan ecosystems be considered to provision cultural services? There are political and philosophical problems with this argument. Politically speaking, even a polluted river, with all its ecosystem integrity compromised, can provision ‘cultural’ services for the economically and socially marginalised. For, it is not an uncommon site to see children happily splash around in Chennai’s Cooum or Delhi’s Yamuna, both very polluted rivers. Culture is how and why one decides to play amidst a landfill, or pray amidst polluting traffic. There is political insight here. For some reason, forests and beaches are implicitly considered in their pristine forms to provision cultural services. Even if we discount the complicating of culture and engage politically with ESS, it turns out to be a sanitised framework. Philosophically, the influential postmodernists who argue that no meaning can be researched of social behaviour as mass media has saturated social life and that nothing in life is ‘authentic’, will scoff at ecosystems being cultural agents. It seems what we know about these forests, including that they appear aesthetic or trek worthy, is powerfully mediated by National Geographic, Discovery, Patagonia, Canon, and Thomas Cook. Take yoga posturing amidst wet evergreen forests of Kodagu, or even community run rafting along Assam’s Manas. These activities, ostensibly, cultural services provisioned by the ecosystem, would seem, for postmodernists, more a health and tourism industry plot; static poses and adrenaline rushes that television and internet have coaxed upon one. Postmodernists may be out on a limb to say that all symbols and signs, for example, a forest as representing a peaceful and spiritual holiday opportunity, are inauthentic. But they get one to reflect politically about 135

how capitalism has converted everything into consumables. Be that as it may, the notion that culture is nature provisioned, can neither withstand Geertzian thick description nor postmodernist authentication. Let us see how it fares sociologically.

SOCIOLOGICALLY SPEAKING: CULTURE AS LEISURE; AS RELATIVE; AS CAPITAL Culture of leisure An MEA document, ‘Ecosystems and Their Services’, mentions that people spend their leisure time based, in part, on the characteristics of the natural or cultivated landscapes. Perhaps. But note here the importance afforded to a landscape characteristic’s influence. According to Michael Bell, an environmental sociologist, while tourists seek out a place’s look, this look is an excuse for the ‘culture of leisure.’ No, a forest valley or river front does not provision leisure culture, for the culture of leisure is a uniquely human trait. It entails, for example, apportioning

time between the hotel or resort, view point, open air museum, elephant back, and ‘traditionally’ styled souvenir shops. These are places and spaces that local folks hardly visit. For Bell, tourists objectify a landscape and use its looks as a cultural opportunity for leisure. The opportunity-set that economists speak of, lies here with the tourist, and not with the landscape. Even if, for a moment, we concede that Kerala’s famed Vembanad lake, or Sikkim’s rhododendron forests produce and distribute an aesthetic effect, there is the brute reality of differential experience. The visual experience of local people who live and work in these ecosystems differs from that of tourists. The lake and the forest mean different things to Kerala’s coastal Ezhava community, and the

mountain Lepcha of Sikkim. The Lepcha may save money from her homestay business in Sikkim’s Dzongu Valley, visit Vembanad, board a houseboat, and take in the aesthetics provisioned by blue skies and grey weedy waters, tourist-filled house boats, and local fishermen and farmers following their daily routines. But for the Ezhava farmer or fisherman, the grey waters, and the tourist can symbolise pollution and annoyance. Here is Bell citing instructive and evocative lines of sociologists, Thomas Greider and Lorraine Garkovich: “Every river is more than one river. Every rock is more than one rock…every landscape is a symbolic environment.” “These landscapes reflect self-definitions grounded in culture.” Depending on who we are, we see landscapes differently for different purposes, writes Bell. This alerts us to cultural relativism.

Cultural relativism Relativism chastises anyone who is prone to aggregation—grouping or lumping—with the advisory that different societies, and different groups within these societies, think differently. To be fair, some ecologists do anticipate relativism when using the ESS framework, even as they remain oblivious to problems in conceiving culture as an ecosystem service. In discussing the impacts of invasive species on cultural services, ecologists, Heather Charles and Jeffrey S. Dukes, point to a colourful instance of the purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria). “Alteration of cultural services is far more difficult to assess, given the subjective nature of these services,” they write. The bright profusion of loosestrife may increase aesthetic value of wetlands for a few, but appear ‘distasteful’ to others, whose concerns are the invasive species’ effects on water quality and wildlife habitat. But aesthetics and taste are not just a matter of subjectivity. Gasping at inflorescence, or grumbling at invasiveness, are aesthetic and scientific values that one inherits by virtue of one’s membership in class, age, gender, and ethnic and occupational locations. Cultural capital Pierre Bourdieu, a French sociologist, credited culture with enabling the social mobility of his nation’s middle classes through the provision of non-economic and political assets. He called this cultural capital (cognitive and aspirational advantages one inherits), which needs to be linked with his other concepts of habitus (dispositions or acquired mental deportment), and distinction (taste-based discrimination). In a field of networks and competition that is society, different capitals are deployed that determine one’s position. One such is cultural capital, which accrues from contacts with experts and refined individuals including parents, teachers, and peers, and affiliation with institutions that

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provision valuable credentials like IIT, MIT, and Oxford. One becomes familiar with the milieu and thrives in it; one also internalises it as habit, or ‘habitus’, or acquired dispositions in perceiving, understanding, classifying and appreciating. If it helps, imagine the milieu of a businessman’s daughter or large carnivore conservationist’s son. The forest for the businessman’s daughter is wild, leisurely, and an alternate space to explore, on a World War II Willy’s low bonnet, in designer fatigues, and through a Leica lens. For the conservationist’s son, who appreciates low bonnets, knee lengths, and sharp optics, the forest is a wild territory exclusively for the tiger, and for the pleasure and patronage of appreciative patrons like the businessman’s daughter. For Bourdieu, ‘social’ and ‘political’ capitals would also kick in to maintain this powerful network of ideologies and lifestyles. Now, a forest habitat does not necessarily provide aesthetic value, habitus does. Appreciation is a matter of taste. For Bourdieu, the dispositions of classes to differentiate and appreciate aesthetic tastes provides one with a sense of place in the social order. This differs from the ‘sense of place’ that ecosystems are commonly said to provision. Under a sociological framing of culture, a ‘sense of place’ would not necessarily constitute culture, but the ‘social place’ of this sense, would. When people categorise a Costa Rican rainforest and adjoining beaches as objects of recreational and aesthetic desire, and categorise a Canon EOS 5D Mark III as the object that best captures such desire, they are, in effect, also categorising themselves as privileged and celebrated classes. Price-tagging nature Speaking of class and consumption, I would be guilty if I did not critique capitalism—the efficient pursuit of profit—for being a conservation problem, and also ironically becoming the solution. Take India’s forest history. Deforestation and forest homogenisation in the subcontinent

Wenlock Downs, Nilgiris. A woody and invasive landscape for the local gaze, and beautiful forests for the tourist gaze. (Photo: Siddhartha Krishnan) began when the British Raj attributed to forests a ‘timbered’ value. Now, more than a century and a half later, the same idea of ‘valuation’ has become the solution, the logic being, that if a forest’s value is calculated, people will conserve it: A calculated basis for conservation, rather than an ethical one, despite our problematic history of forest valuation. Like many other conservation and sustainability initiatives emanating from academia and policy networks, the rearrangement of human-nature relations the way the ESS framework attempts, is susceptible to criticism as urban and elitist. The public intellectual, Ramachandra Guha, once famously commented, “the Indian environmental debate is just the city’s argument of what’s happening in the countryside.” Urban discourse bears material rural consequence. Resource or service budgeting and monetisation price them out of the wretched reach of folks usually blamed for the ecological crisis, namely, poor peasants, pastoralists, and fishermen. The rich who are responsible, in scale and quantum, for the

ecological crisis, will find valuation useful in terms of price and privilege. If there is a price, it can be paid. If ecosystems and their services are priced, then there must be some ecosystems that are pricier, depending on value imputed. Affording their pricey cultural services, then, is a status and prestige marker.

services-based publications. The reductionist and ‘determined’ sense of culture is confidently replicated in publication-after-publication. To be fair, they inherited this understanding of culture from an earlier generation of scientists. This continues to be the case, given how ecologists and economists engage with culture even outside the ESS arena. Conservation biologists, for instance, go about as if local tradition (enduring and ecologically noble knowledge and practice), and perception (actually just response to external stimuli that is exaggerated as stable opinion), is all there is to culture. Economists treat culture as an annoying and irrational variable that needs to be discounted in aggregating efficient and utilitarian behaviour.

functions, then a certain political usefulness kicks in. In highly and unjustly stratified countries like India, for instance, one can study whose labour was involved in co-production, who benefited from the consequent flow or provision, and who was ‘over’ or ‘under’ serviced.

The whole services framework can still outlive its usefulness if we substitute cultural services of an ecosystem with societal services. The word ‘social’ appears more apt, standing as it does for exchanges and interactions. For, if we acknowledge that ecosystem services are co-produced, that is, a consequence of interactions between human labour and ecosystems

Charles, H. and JS. Dukes. 2008. Impacts of invasive species on ecosystem services. In: Biological Invasions. (ed. Nentwig, W.). Ecological Studies Vol. 193. Berlin: Springer-Verlag.

CONCLUSION: STRAW MAN AS BEST MAN The reader may have experienced a nagging sense of my having picked ‘cultural services’ as a straw man. But given that the notion of culture as posited by the ESS school epitomises the deterministic (nature produces culture), and reductionist (culture is what is expressed about nature), thinking about it amongst ecologists and economists, the straw man becomes my best man to flog. It may be that the MEA and its ecologist and economist members were aware of the complexity of culture, and were only conveniently drawing upon the expressive facets of culture. But this does not appear so from the mass of 138

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Further Reading Bell, MM. 1998. An invitation to environmental sociology (III edition). Thousand Oaks, California: Pine Forge Press. Bourdieu, P. 1985. The forms of capital. In: Handbook of theory and research for the sociology of education (ed. Richardson, JG.). New York: Greenwood.

Greider, T. and L. Garkovich, 1994. Landscapes: the social construction of nature and the environment. Rural Sociology. 59(1): 1–24.

Domesticating water: the challenges in Indian cities

THE URBAN WATER PROBLEM Urban regions in India are experiencing an unprecedented growth in population and income, and providing safe, adequate, and affordable domestic water continues to be a challenge. Although 90% of urban households in India have access to safe drinking water, households in 22 out of the 32 big cities in India face frequent water shortages1.

Durba Biswas and Veena Srinivasan

Currently, the international ‘ideal water system’ that urban water agencies aspire to achieve is ‘24/7 water supply’, i.e., water that is supplied through pressurised pipelines to households throughout the day. In the western world, 24/7 water supply is considered the gold standard in civil engineering design. Cities are tapping into water sources further and further away, building large reservoirs to store water. Water is transported via massive pipelines to centralised treatment facilities, where it is treated to potable quality, and then distributed through pressurised pipelines to households. Because the pipes are fully pressurised, sewage or groundwater does not seep into them, and the water utility is able to effectively control the quality of water delivered. Households are charged for the services provided based on their water meter readings. The utility is able to recover the cost of supply, and is able to maintain and expand infrastructure in the long run. In such systems, because households receive high-pressure, good-quality treated water in their taps round-the-clock, there is no need to store water in buckets or in underground sumps. In the USA, in 2010, for example, 86% of the total population received water from the public supply system, and only a small fraction of the population (14%) depended on their own domestic wells.

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1 Households access to safe drinking water. https:// data.gov.in/catalog/households-access-safe-drinking-water. Accessed January 3, 2017.

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Under such a system, water supply to the household is not constrained in any way. Water agencies are able to supply as much water as households need at the prevailing water tariff structure. Households can use as much water as they want as long as they can pay for it. They do not need to resort to any other source of water. On the flip side, significant changes in the price of water can influence the way households use water. In other words, the water tariff (based on the meter reading) can regulate the water use behavior of people. The link between the price of water and its use at the household level is therefore straightforward. In India, however, such a system has not worked. Faced with highly variable and uncertain rainfall, limited reservoir storage, an aging piped network infrastructure, poor cost recovery, and rapidly growing demand, no Indian city today has 24/7 water supply. Instead, piped supply is intermittent—available for only a few hours each day with variable pressure and quality. Consequently, cost recovery from the households is low, which in turn leads to a low level of reinvestment in domestic water infrastructure. This situation is strikingly different from that in other Asian countries where 24/7 water supply has been achieved in at least some major cities. Many urban households in India that have in-house water connections also depend on private sources such as borewells, water vendors, etc., to supplement their piped water supplies. In reality, households effectively get water 24/7 in their taps by collecting water in a local storage structure, either at the household, or at the apartment-block level. The water is then pumped using motor pumps to overhead tanks, from where the water flows into the households’ taps. If the water stored in the overhead tanks is of sufficient quantity, then the household can get high pressure water supply any time of the day without needing to store it in buckets or pots.

Most cities in India do not have metering. Instead, water agencies charge a flat-rate tariff regardless of the quantity of water used. Most Indian water agencies recover barely a fraction of the cost of supply. As a result, the existing piped infrastructure is poorly maintained and leaky. In some cities, only half the water brought from reservoirs hundreds of kilometres away eventually reaches end users. Some scholars have termed this situation of poor cost recovery, an unreliable supply, and a crumbling infrastructure as a ‘low-level equilibrium’. Additionally, many households do not have access to in-house connections at all. The public water supply situation is even more precarious in the case of socio-economically weaker sections of the city and slum dwellers, who receive poor quality intermittent water supply delivered through public standpipes. These households tend to collect water from various formal and informal sources and store it in pots and buckets for their daily domestic use. Studies show that slum dwellers are left out of the public water supply system, either completely, or almost completely, and have to turn to expensive private sources such as water vendors. Even when they are given ‘free water’, they often have to pay some forms of bribes (‘tips’) to linemen, public water tanker drivers, and others to access public water.

DEBATES ON URBAN WATER SUPPLY The main ongoing debate in the urban water sector is whether Indian cities should follow the Western model of 24/7 water supply, or evolve an alternative model more suited to local conditions. If the latter, what might such a model be? Proponents of 24/7 supply point out the health benefit of high-quality water, along with the reduction of losses through pipeline leaks, and improved financial viability of the water utility in the long-term. They argue that many Indian cities, like Delhi and Mumbai, ac-

to yield tangible benefits, as they often lack transparency in the manner in which funds are allocated and used, and end up as a bottomless sink for tax-payer funds that benefits the utility-politician-contractor lobby. Finally, opponents argue that water pricing cannot actually control demand as effectively or equitably as a combination of rationing plus local storage, and the goal should be to rely on a mix of local and imported sources.

A public drinking water tap next to a flowing open drain in a Coimbatore slum. (Photo: Durba Biswas) tually have enough water resources to supply every single citizen 100–150 litres per capita per day (LPCD), and the true problem is not resource scarcity but pipeline leakage. They believe that charging people the cost of water will ensure that households are responsible about water use. In fact, they argue that it can benefit the poor and the women, who are the worst hit by the need to store and collect water. Further, they contend that a basic lifeline amount can be supplied free of cost through targeted subsidies, so affordability should not be a concern. Opponents of 24/7 supply argue that charging people the full cost of water, in a highly unequal society, will lead to the rich (who can afford to pay) capturing most of the water at the expense of the poor. They point out that figures of available water are grossly overestimated, because they only consider the populations of cities that currently have access to piped supply, not the unserved (often poorer) peri-urban populations. In an era where water resources are fully allocated, new reservoirs or water transfers to urban areas must deprive either farmers or ecosystems of water. If 24/7 water supply becomes a norm, water resources will be allocated to the wealthiest cities first, while smaller towns and villages trail behind, waiting for their share. Moreover, pipeline leakage-fixing projects have yet 142

The problem is that, while some of these arguments stem from differences in normative concerns (efficiency versus equity versus sustainability), many of these differences stem from different beliefs about user and system behavior, which cannot actually be resolved in the absence of solid empirical evidence. Can water pricing effectively constrain water use so the city’s total water use does not exceed the available water resources? On the face of it, this question may seem to be a simple economic one. A deeper investigation, though, reveals several layers of assumptions that must be uncovered in order to answer it: that households ‘know’ the price of water, that the person paying the bill is the same as (or can effectively control) the persons using the water, that price is a relevant, or even an important factor in constraining water use, and that the burden of procuring and/or paying for water is equitably distributed among all household members. ATREE’s research in urban water has been aimed at unbundling some of these complexities.

LESSONS FROM ATREE’S WORK ON URBAN WATER SUPPLY AND USE There are limits to imported water, but local alternatives exist The central question of ‘is there enough water for everyone’ persists. Given the increasing urbanisation and growth of population, there is an increasing scarcity of river water. Not only is it expensive to import water to cities 143

by transporting it over long distances, far from the cities themselves, but river water itself may be insufficient to meet all household-level demands. Coimbatore, a city in Tamil Nadu, offers a glimpse into what an alternative to complete dependence on imported river water would look like. Coimbatore currently uses a unique ‘dual source’ water supply system— the water agency supplies locally procured groundwater along with imported river water. Water (of different qualities) from these two sources may be supplied through the same piped system on different days, through different piped networks, or it may be blended. Local groundwater is typically hard and saline, and is therefore considered to be of an inferior quality. Nevertheless, it is typically used for mopping, washing

Generally, older (often wealthier) parts of the city have shallow water tables as groundwater is not used and piped water use is high, whereas newly added areas get very little piped water and rely significantly on groundwater. Ironically, because water supply pipelines tend to leak and recharge groundwater, the core areas of most cities also have plentiful groundwater supply. This creates severe inequities in water availability between the core and peripheries of the cities. In theory, it should be possible to distribute the available water resources more evenly, and encourage the older areas to recycle, or use local groundwater. In practice, communities tend to exert political power, or simply bribe linemen to hold on to their allocations. However, transparency and awareness may create opportunities to reallocate water more equitably within cities. Such a policy of reallocation can be an alternative to the 24/7 water supply system.

A woman carrying water from a public drinking water tap in a Coimbatore slum. (Photo: Durba Biswas) clothes, and for toilets. Imported river water is considered ‘sweet’, and of superior quality, and is generally used for cooking, drinking, and whenever possible, for bathing. Although the frequency of supply of river water varies widely across the city, the frequency of groundwater supply is fairly good. Interestingly, the city’s water utility seems quite effective in compensating for the differences in river water supply in different parts of the city, by augmenting with groundwater. In spite of significant differences in supply of ‘sweet’ river water, the total water supply is remarkably equitable. There are opportunities to reallocate water within cities Secondary data across cities in India show vast differences in water use within cities.

Understanding households’ response to pricing is extremely challenging in the absence of data The question of whether households respond to price signals remains very difficult to answer. A significant number of the households (60%) in Coimbatore are not metered at all, and even those that are have defunct, or tampered meters. In cities like Chennai, the fraction of metered households is even lower. Even if all households were fitted with well working water meters, when water is insufficient pricing is a difficult policy to use to influence consumer behavior. In Indian cities households use water of various qualities, from multiple sources, which can be either formal (in-house water taps), informal (water vendors), or even illegal (illegal water connections), some involving direct payments, and others involving indirect costs, and connections are shared between multiple households. In such a context, understanding how 144

households respond specifically to pricing of piped water poses methodological challenges. At present, there are no reliable data on actual water use by a household. Our analysis of the meter reading data suggests that they are suspect, given the large degree of tampering and poor maintenance. This at least points towards the need to quantify actual household water use, without which it is difficult to understand the behavior of the consumers. For example, initial results from an extensive household-level water monitoring exercise undertaken by ATREE in Coimbatore shows that at least 50% of the households among the monitored households received 110 LPCD, which included both local groundwater and imported river water. Thus there is a need to acknowledge, at a policy level, that groundwater is being used significantly, and that households use water of different qualities for different purposes. Existing household coping-infrastructure may limit how much tariffs can be raised One of the biggest gaps in the push towards a 24/7 water supply policy, is the understanding of how such a policy would be affected by the existing household infrastructure. A sizeable portion of households in cities in India already have sumps (to store piped water), and borewells (to supplement with ground water). For instance, in Chennai, 60%, and in Coimbatore, 28% of the households have access to private borewells. When households have existing sumps where the piped water is collected, they may not realise the water quality benefits, as the water often gets re-contaminated in these household storage structures. A study in the 24/7 zones in the twin cities of Hubballi–Dharwad, in Karnataka, showed some empirical evidence for this. A study in Chennai, on a linked groundwater and user-behaviour model, indicated that if the price of piped supply is hiked significantly, households that have already invested in 145

borewells may use more groundwater, although they might not drill new borewells. So, raising water tariffs could have an unintended consequence on groundwater over-extraction, unless groundwater regulation is also brought under the purview of the water utility. Storage, and not quantity delivered, limits water use by the poor Surveys in Coimbatore show that slum households lack adequate water storage space within their homes. Inexpensive storage options such as drums and pots take up a lot of space in small slum dwellings. Alternative storage structures, such as sumps (sub-surface), or overhead tanks (on the roofs), are expensive. This implies that even in slums where the public supply of water is high

Where households lack sumps or overhead tanks, water must be stored in pots and drums. (Photo: Durba Biswas) pressure and frequent, women have to make multiple trips to the standpipe to fetch water. However, investing in enhanced local storage by the state can lead to a 24/7 water supply at the locality level, which can benefit the poorest households, as well as women, by removing uncertainty around water supply. Women bear the burden of poor supply in multiple ways Women living in slums spend up to 2 hours per day in collecting, storing, and redistributing the water for various uses such as cooking, mopping, washing clothes, etc. However, as the slums receive water at irregular, and often inconvenient, times of the day, women tend to wait for many hours for the supply, making the effective time spent on collecting water much longer than 2 hours a day. The irregularity of water supply timings also has other kinds of implications for the women. For example, given that the water supply timing is not fixed, women do not travel too

far away from the home for work, because they have to rush back as soon as they hear the news that water supply has begun. This limits their employment opportunities. When household financial decisions are made jointly by both the husband and the wife, it allows women to pay bribes to tanker drivers and linemen. However, in cases where women have no say in financial decisions, women tend to put in more time and physical effort to find cheaper water sources.

to households. Based on ATREE’s work, we argue that in the Indian context, the 24/7 system may not work as well as it is meant to, if it ignores Indian realities. The 24/7 system is limited by how much water can be imported from outside the cities, and once imported, how it can be distributed among households through a well-functioning piped-water system. Our study in Coimbatore, with its dual-source water-supply system, throws up some interesting insights. Primarily, the dual-source system can lead to an overall equitable access to water, where households use groundwater for the purpose of mopping, sanitation, and washing clothes, and surface water for the purpose of drinking, cooking, and bathing. This provides an alternative to the model of 24/7 supply of only imported river water. Secondly, 24/7 supply of river water can benefit poor households and women from slum households, as it removes water supply uncertainty, thereby removing the time spent

In contrast, a 24/7 water delivery system designed to be subsidised, regulated and strongly monitored, could minimise or completely eliminate the burden of water collection on women from poor and minority backgrounds and benefit the poorest of households in the cities.

CONCLUSION In a developed country context, 24/7 water supply system implies high pressure, treated river water supplied through pipelines 146

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in collecting water and investing in storage options. Finally, a 24/7 water supply system is a pricing strategy to influence households’ water use behavior. ATREE’s work in Coimbatore shows that a significant percentage of households are either not metered at all, or have incorrectly functioning meters. Therefore, before moving towards the 24/7 system, there is a need to have good estimates of households’ water consumption patterns. Further reading Maupin, MA., Kenny, JF., Hutson, SS., Lovelace, JK., Barber, NL. and Linsey, KS., 2014. Estimated use of water in the United States in 2010 (No. 1405). US Geological Survey. Shaban, A. and Sharma, RN., 2007. Water consumption patterns in domestic households in major cities. Economic and Political Weekly, 42(23): 2190–2197.

Contested waterscapes: Land use change, decentralised interventions and complex impacts Shrinivas Badiger and Sharachchandra Lele

THE CHANGING WATERSCAPE OF KARNATAKA Traversing the state of Karnataka in peninsular India, from the coconut-shaded coastline, through the spectacular Sahyadri mountain range, towards the vast Deccan Plateau, one encounters a fascinating range of hydrological conditions. The Sahyadris, or Western Ghats, running close to the western coast, not only forms a natural hydro-climatic divide, but is also a complex vegetated landscape of rich forests intermingled with diverse agro-ecosystems in its valleys and slopes. Heavy monsoon rains in this densely vegetated Sahyadri ridge is the primary ‘source’ of water for all the major rivers—both east- and west-flowing—and a lifeline to more than a quarter of a billion people in peninsular India. The west-flowing rivers are short but gushing, creating a water-rich coastal area before joining the Arabian Sea. On the other hand, the east-flowing rivers are long and slow, meandering across the much drier Deccan Plateau of Karnataka, and then Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, or Tamil Nadu before reaching the Bay of Bengal. These landscapes and waterscapes have been significantly transformed by civilisations over centuries, initially through modest alterations to make the water work for an agrarian way of life. Thus, the water and forest-rich environments of The Sahyadris have seen the emergence of agricultural adaptations: arecanut and paddy cultivation in the valleys, and coffee cultivation on the slopes, with highly localised water diversions. The relatively drier eastern plains see more visible hydrological interventions, with thousands of cascading irrigation ‘tanks’ dotting the landscape, built over centuries and enabling agricultural intensification. More recently, large-scale interventions such as large dams for irrigation and hydropower, big pipelines for urban water supply, and millions of deep borewells to expand irrigation have dramatically transformed the waterscape across the state.

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Environmentally speaking, one distinct feature of water is that it always flows: in streams and rivers but also from the surface into the ground through ‘infiltration’ and then from groundwater back in to streams as ‘baseflow’. This flow links upstream and downstream users, as also surface and groundwater users, in complex ways. As we reach greater intensities of water use far beyond those prevailing for much of the Anthropocene, tensions and conflicts between upstream and downstream water users have increased dramatically, especially in water-scarce countries like India. While the impacts of direct interventions in hydrology, such as the construction of large dams, is fairly obvious, the cumulative impact of indirect or subtle interventions such as modifying forest vegetation or soil, changing agricultural practices, constructing tiny water conservation structures, or pumping of groundwater from thousands of wells, are much less visible or understood. We present here some of the understanding of these cumulative impacts we have gained through research spanning a decade and a half and ranging from the forest catchments in Uttara Kannada and Mysuru, to the eastern slopes in Belagavi, and the water-scarce semi-arid regions of Bidar, Haveri and Chitradurga.

INFLUENCE OF HUMAN USE OF FORESTS ON WATER It is conventional wisdom in environmentalist circles that forests provide numerous benefits to humans, including flow of streams and rivers. Even conservation scientists claim that ‘hydrological regulation’ is one of the key benefits of tropical forests. Deforestation or forest degradation is therefore considered to affect downstream communities through hydrological change, in addition to all the other impacts these processes might bring. Yet, the hydrological changes actually caused by changes in tropical forest condition and their

social implications are the most poorly understood and contentious of all the environmental benefits of forests. Human use changes forests in diverse ways—e.g., in the Western Ghats of Karnataka, this has created tree savannahs, pure grasslands, sometimes barren lands and in other places dense fast-growing plantations out of dense ‘natural’ forests. Some forest hydrologists have argued that denser forests (or fast growing forest plantations) may consume more water as compared to tree savannas or grasslands. Others point out that forest use, especially grazing of livestock, not only changes vegetation dynamics but also often compacts the soil, which may decrease infiltration and increase surface runoff. What the net hydrological effect is, and more importantly, how exactly this affects downstream communities, has been debated but hardly studied in the tropics, especially in India1,2. Between 2002 and 2006, we carried out a multi-disciplinary effort to understand some aspects of this issue using sites in two regions in the Western Ghats of Karnataka. What seems to emerge is that not all types of ‘forests’ have equal or even unidirectional influence on hydrology, and neither do these changes in hydrology have the same socio-economic impact everywhere.

paddy during the monsoon, but also used the seepage flows from headwater catchments to irrigate more valuable arecanut and spices in the valleys, and downstream of it, if possible, some cultivated a second crop of paddy. Another set of catchments was in a low rainfall (700-800 mm) semi-arid region in Nanjangud taluka of Mysuru district near Bandipur National park, where villagers also used forests for firewood and grazing. However, farmers also captured monsoon runoff from these heavily used forest catchments in irrigation tanks, and, if adequate, used that for cultivating paddy (surprising, since this is a low rainfall region). The impact of intensive human use of forests for firewood collection and grazing on the surface hydrologic processes was similar in both regions: reduced infiltration and increased overland flows. But in the high rainfall region, where soils had inherently higher permeability, groundwater recharge was still significant even under human-impacted catchments, and the

lower density vegetation in these catchments may have partly compensated with lower evapotranspiration loss. Planting up originally grazed patches with acacia improved infiltration, although it also increased evapotranspiration to some extent. Thus, these land use transformations affected the post-monsoon baseflows in streams only somewhat, as long as the larger catchment contained a mosaic of intact and modified forest3. Further, a comparison of productivity and profitability of arecanut cultivation in valleys with different duration of post-monsoon flows showed that the valleys with longer post-monsoon flows had, on an average, greater arecanut productivity. On the other hand, farmers with greater access to forest products, particularly leaf manure and mulch, also had higher arecanut productivity. This suggests that arecanut farmers have to strike a balance between the hydrological benefits of intact forests, and the direct benefits of forest product harvest for agriculture, livestock, and the domestic sector, and up to a certain threshold, they might get enough of both. Human use of forests causes limited hydrological impact, and the impacts are compensated by the direct benefits of forest use. In the drier region also, intensive use of forests reduced infiltration, and therefore groundwater recharge. But the increased and earlier runoff that resulted, actually benefited downstream farmers, because their irrigation tanks were more likely to fill under these conditions. If, on the other hand, the forest cover in the tank catchment is somehow improved, that would then decrease surface runoff, increase evapotranspiration from the trees and probably increase groundwater recharge marginally. Eventually, this ground-

One set of catchments was in a high rainfall (2000-3000 mm) region in Uttara Kannada district, where farmers had modified some forests into tree savannas (known as soppina bettas, locally) to meet their firewood, fodder and mulch needs, while the Forest Department had pursued a plantation programme with fast-growing earleaf acacia (Acacia auriculiformis) in other patches. Farmers cultivated 1

For details, see Krishnaswamy, J, S. Lele and R. Jayakumar (eds.). 2006, Hydrology and watershed services in the Western Ghats of India. New Delhi: Tata McGraw-Hill.

Krishnaswamy, J., M. Bonell, B. Venkatesh, BK. Purandara, S. Lele, MC. Kiran, V. Reddy, et al. 2012. The rain-runoff response of tropical humid forest ecosystems to use and reforestation in the Western Ghats of India. Journal of Hydrology, 472–¬473: 216–237.

Lele, S. 2009. Watershed services of tropical forests: from hydrology to economic valuation to integrated analysis. Current Opinions in Environmental Sustainability 1(2): 148–155.

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Farmers can take up paddy when the irrigation tank fills. (Photo: Shrinivas Badiger) water could emerge as baseflow in the stream somewhere much downstream of the tank. But in a tank-based irrigation system, which is designed to support a water-intensive paddy crop, partially-full or slowly filling tanks are not useful. Our simulations indicated that improved forest cover would significantly reduce the probability of tanks filling, and the frequency with which farmers could cultivate irrigated paddy crops. Thus, paradoxically, reforestation may have negative economic consequences for farmers in the command area of such tanks4. In short, forest use or reforestation will change the hydrology of forested catchments. But whether the socio-economic consequences of these changes are positive or negative is highly contextual. The type of technology society has used to create socially useful flows, such as irrigation tanks, seepage-based agriculture, or wells influences these outcomes. Thus, hydrological ‘services’ of forests depend not only on the type of forest transformation but also on the type of socio-technical conditions downstream of the forest. 4

Lele, S., I. Patil, S. Badiger, A. Menon, and R. Kumar. 2011. Forests, hydrological services, and agricultural income: a case study from Mysore district of the Western Ghats of India. In: Environmental valuation in South Asia. (eds. Haque, AKE., MN. Murty, and P. Shyamsundar) Pp.141–169. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Diversion of river water for water-intensive crops such as sugarcane has led to increasing conflict between upstream farmers and downstream domestic water users. (Photo: Shrinivas Badiger)

UPSTREAM AGRICULTURE AND DOWNSTREAM IMPACTS How significant are these forest-cover-driven hydrological changes in the larger picture of changing hydrological patterns in Karnataka? We analysed several decades of streamflow data from government records of 20 catchments in the Western Ghats, and also estimated forest cover changes in these catchments using satellite images. It turned out, neither was forest cover decline significant in most of the catchments, nor could the hydrological change—where visible—be explained by just declines in forest cover or changes in rainfall pattern. Several catchments showed declining trends in flows, which could only be explained by increased agricultural water use through direct pumping from the streams5. This led us to pay greater attention to agricultural land use changes. The catchment of a major irrigation dam on the Malaprabha—an east-flowing river in Belagavi district, Karnataka—provided an interesting case. The upper 5

Lele, S., J. Vaidyanathan, S. Hegde, V. Basappa, and J. Krishnaswamy. 2007. Influence of forest cover change on watershed functions in the Western Ghats: a coarse-scale analysis. Project report. Bengaluru: Centre for Interdisciplinary Studies in Environment and Development.

10% of the 2200 km2 catchment is under forest cover, which has not changed much over several decades. The remaining area is largely under agriculture. The rainfall varies from 2000 mm in the upper catchment to 500 mm at the dam, and even lower in its command area. The dam is witnessing a steady decline in inflows. Initial visits suggested it might be the towns immediately upstream of the dam that were extracting water for domestic use, but these quantities turned out to be rather small. We then analysed the changes in agricultural land use in the catchment using multi-season IRS-P6 satellite data6. We found that the net area under irrigated crops in the catchment had increased from 10f to almost 40% of the total cultivable land, and this area consisted primarily of sugarcane, paddy and some area under oilseeds. Sugarcane, the most water-intensive of these crops, and one that is perennially irrigated, occupied almost half the irrigated area. The crops were being irrigated either by pumping from borewells or by (mostly clandestine) lifting of water directly from the Malaprabha river and transporting it several kilometres. It is this increase in consumptive use of water for irrigation that is responsible for reduced inflows into the dam. Interestingly, the reduced inflows into Malaprabha did not trigger a conflict between command area farmers and upstream farmers, probably because there are similar inequities within the command area itself7. But it did trigger action from Bailhongal and Soudatti towns, which depend significantly 6

Heller, E., JM. Rhemtulla, S. Lele, M. Kalacska, S. Badiger, R. Sengupta and N. Ramankutty. 2012. Mapping crop types, irrigated areas, and cropping intensities in heterogeneous landscapes of southern India using multi-temporal medium-resolution imagery: implications for assessing water use in agriculture. Photogrammetric Engineering & Remote Sensing 78(8): 815–827.

Farmers at the head-reach of the Malaprabha canals appropriate most of the irrigation water, and so hardly anything reaches the tail-end. In this situation, the effect of reduced inflows and releases from the dam are hardly felt by the headreach farmers.

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on the Malaprabha reservoir, in the form of sending patrols to stop illegal lifting of water from the river-bed upstream. But the larger role of groundwater pumping in the catchment as a whole was not foregrounded. An exploration of what is driving sugarcane expansion in the Malaprabha catchment took us into the political economy of sugar production and policies supporting the setting up of sugar factories at the expense of other forms of agricultural development. But that is a story for another day8.

WATERSHED DEVELOPMENT: NOT A SILVER BULLET As environmental concerns around large dams became prominent in the mid-1980s, one solution to the problem of water scarcity and low agricultural productivity in semi-arid areas that became quite popular in both civil society and policy circles was the idea of ‘participatory watershed development’. The idea was to carry out soil and water conservation activities in common lands, streams, and individual farms, so as to capture as much of the rain falling in micro-catchments and to make it available as soil moisture, and to recharge the groundwater, which can later be pumped for farming. The activities included land levelling, farm bunding, contour trenching, re-vegetation of common lands, check-dams and other recharge structures on streams, all of which were to be planned and implemented in a participatory manner. This idea was piloted in places such as Ralegaon Siddi in Maharashtra, and Sukhomajri in Haryana, and then mainstreamed into rural development policy for semi-arid areas. Starting in the late 1990s, a series of large state and donor-funded projects and programmes were implemented 8

Badiger, S., S. Gopalakrishnan, and I. Patil. 2013. Contextualizing rural-urban water conflicts: biophysical and socio-institutional issues of domestic water scarcity. In: Water in a globalizing world: state, markets and civil society in South Asia. (eds. Narain, V., C. Gurung Goodrich, J. Chourey, and A. Prakash) New Delhi: Routledge Publishers.

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Rainwater harvesting structures constructed in many watershed development programmes become dysfunctional even before they start reaping benefits due to lack of social engineering. (Photo: Shrinivas Badiger) across the country, including the drier parts of Karnataka, for enhancing and stabilising rural livelihoods. It seemed that a silver bullet for integrated natural resource-based rural development had been found9. As a part of a collaborative three-state study spanning Karnataka, Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh, we sought to firstly assess whether these programmes had resulted in any lasting impacts on the rural landscape and the water resource, and then to understand the hydro-agro-socio-economic nature of these impacts (where visible) and factors shaping them. A rapid assessment across a large number of locations indicated that, on an average, 40% of recharge structures, such as check dams and nala bunds, were already damaged within the first year of project completion, and more than half of the structures were no longer in good condition 3 years after project completion. And while micro-credit groups set up in these projects—but de-linked from natural resource management—continued to function, watershed committees set up to maintain 9

Joy, KJ., A. Shah, S. Paranjape, S. Badiger and S. Lele. 2009. Re-visioning the watershed development programme in India. In: Agricultural development, rural institutions, and economic policy: essays for A.Vaidyanathan (eds. Kadekodi, GK, and B. Viswanathan). Pp.152-175. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

recharge structures or regulate common land management were largely dysfunctional. A detailed assessment of the more successful watershed development programmes— spread over Bidar, Haveri and Chitradurga districts—indicated a more complicated dynamic that illustrates how such interventions lead to mixed outcomes. First, structures such as check dams increased groundwater recharge, but this only benefitted those farmers who already owned or dug new borewells or open wells close to these structures. Thus, the benefits were highly unevenly distributed within the watershed. Second, even if the structures were maintained over time, the benefits were becoming unsustainable because groundwater pumping was encouraged and unregulated, resulting in gradual but irreversible groundwater decline. This is not to say that the watershed development has not worked. We had ourselves documented the success of this approach in Hivre Bazar in Maharashtra. In such cases, people had not built very different structures, but they had managed to put in place strict regulations on water-intensive crops and drilling of borewells. Mechanisms for water sharing were collectively agreed upon even before the structures were built and much before the benefits of these structures started showing up. Distributional issues were sought to be addressed through sharing of wells. Where access to commons was closed off to enable regeneration, compensatory fodder supply and changes in livestock management were promoted. Unfortunately, government-supported or implemented watershed programmes lacked both the patience and the political will to mandate fair water allocation or regulation of water use in their agenda. A third dimension of our findings further underlined how such well-meaning micro-level interventions, made in the absence of a full appreciation of larger socio-hydrologi-

ment has adverse impacts per se, but that it reapportions surface water flows in favour of micro-watershed-level users, like the “robbing Peter to pay Paul” analogy. It triggers rapid expansion in groundwater over-extraction that can eventually undermine these gains, which anyway accrue only to those who already have or can afford to dig new wells. And local gains—when scaled up—can have wide spread consequences if prior use of surface water existed downstream.

SUBTLE ACTIONS, LINKED HYDROLOGIES AND COMPLEX OUTCOMES

motivations—greening, soil conservation, groundwater recharge, agricultural development or drought-proofing. But focusing on techno-fixes with a cursory nod to participation will not work in the long run, and participation will have to be coupled with self-regulation. For this to work we need a better understanding of how water moves in complex ways, how human modifications in the landscape influences this movement at multiple scales, and how traditional and modern socio-technical adaptations or interventions shape and re-shape when, and how, and to whom, benefits accrue. Acknowledgements

cal processes, can have unintended consequences. The micro-watersheds we studied in Bidar district were part of the catchment of a medium irrigation tank on the Upper Mullamari stream, most of which had been similarly ‘treated’ with watershed development interventions. The tank was providing irrigation water to about 1,000 ha. We asked whether scaling up watershed development in the catchment—including not just increased recharge but also, as mentioned above, increased utilisation—had any implications for the tank. Our analysis of the tank inflows and outflows indicated that, during the 18 years prior to the watershed interventions, the monsoon runoff into the reservoir was 16% of the net seasonal rainfall. During this period, the reservoir filled 10 times, of which it overflowed to downstream tanks 7 times. During the post-intervention periods, the runoff was 14% of the rainfall over a period of 4 years and the reservoir filled twice but without any overflows to downstream tanks. Anecdotal information gathered from discussions with farmers further confirmed the implication that large-scale watershed development upstream had reduced downstream flows. This is not to say that watershed develop154

Conducted in different contexts with different methods, collaborators, and even overall goals, these studies nevertheless have shown us that understanding of linkages, contexts, and scales can upset conventional ‘wisdoms’. First, our hydrological work has showed the importance of understanding linkages—between forest cover and infiltration, between upstream water use and downstream availability, and between surface and ground water. Second, the socio-technical context determines whether the hydrological changes are positive or negative and for whom: the same biophysical impact produced by trees or rainwater harvesting in the upper catchments has different implications depending upon whether downstream users harness surface water or groundwater, what crops they grow, and how they distribute water. Third, scaling up of apparent silver bullets—whether all-out afforestation with fast-growing species, or indiscriminate construction of check dams— may lead to both hydrologically inequitable and socially unsustainable outcomes. While the era of large dam construction seems to be drawing to a close, at least in peninsular India, the last few decades have seen a shift towards millions of micro-scale interventions in watersheds, with different

The insights presented here emerged from collaborations and conversations over many years with several colleagues, including Ajit Menon, Jagdish Krishnaswamy, Iswaragouda Patil, K J Joy, Suhas Paranjape, Amita Shah and other collaborators from UNESCO, National Institute of Hydrology, SOPPECOM, and Gujarat Institute of Development Research. Further reading Bruijnzeel, LA. 2004. Hydrological functions of tropical forests: not seeing the soil for the trees? Agriculture, Ecosystems and Environment 104(1): 185–228. Joy, KJ., S. Paranjape, AK. Kiran Kumar, R. Lele and R. Adagale. 2004. Watershed development review: issues and prospects. Bengaluru: Centre for Interdisciplinary Studies in Environment and Development. Lele, S. 2009. Watershed services of tropical forests: from hydrology to economic valuation to integrated analysis. Current Opinions in Environmental Sustainability 1(2): 148–155. Narasimhan, TN. 2006. Water and science in India. Current Science 90(10): 1321–1322.

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Conserving the less-charismatic: Making conservation inclusive for insect diversity Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan, Anu Radhakrishnan and Seena Narayanan Karimbumkara such a mutually beneficial relationship, which might lead to the extinction of Ficus species, thus triggering cascading effects on tropical forests. The ‘Ficus–fig insect mutualism’ best epitomises the importance of insects in the sustenance of the biosphere.

A parasitising fig wasp Apocrypta. (Photo: Sandesh Kadur) The mighty Indian banyan tree (Ficus benghalensis L) is pollinated by a tiny wasp, Eupristina masoni, which lives inside the ovaries of its miniscule flowers. The banyan tree, like every other species of fig (genus Ficus), hides its flowers inside the chamber of an urn-shaped inflorescence, which can be accessed only by fig insects (family Agaonidae). Similarly, each of the approximately 900 known Ficus species all over the world depends on a fig insect that is specific to that particular Ficus species, to reproduce. The fig insects lay eggs inside a few fig ovaries, and the larvae develop there. The Ficus, thus, provides food and accommodation to the developing fig insects by sacrificing several of their own offspring. Apart from providing food and space for these pollinators, and for other wasps that parasitise these pollinators, Ficus also provides food and shelter for a wide range of other animals—from thrips and ants, to apes and elephants—and therefore qualifies to be called a ‘keystone’ genus of tropical forests. Local extinction of fig insects due to habitat disturbance, changes in weather patterns, or for other reasons, can cause a breakdown of

Insects form a major part of the biodiversity, and assume a critical part in ecosystem functioning. About 90% of flowering plants depend on an insect to get pollinated; insects consume more vegetation mass than all other herbivores; through predation, parasitism, and scavenging, they kill more animals than any other carnivores; and they are a vital prey base for many species, including humans. The morphological, ecological, and behavioural adaptations attained over a relatively long period of time, and the genetic versatility and diversification attained through co-evolution with flowering plants, make insects the most abundant and speciose organisms on earth. Although many people are averse to the very idea, insects are a part of the human diet

Moth pupa being sold along with fruits at a market in Jaintia Hills, Meghalaya. (Photo: Rajkamal Goswami) 156

all over the world. More than 300 species of insects are consumed in different parts of India, while more than 3,000 species of edible insects are recorded around the globe. Considering the growing human population, depleting natural resources, and strained environment, the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) foresees a protein famine in the near future, and recommends insects as a viable alternate source of protein for humans. Recent studies show that insects could even play an important role in mitigating the effects of climate change. For example, livestock are the largest source of anthropogenic methane, which is an important greenhouse gas. Methane formation is attributed to the growth of methyl forming bacteria in cattle manure, which need optimum temperature and moisture conditions. Dung beetles, belonging to the families, Geotrupidae and Scarabaeidae, bury dung pats into the soil, reduce the volatilisation of ammonia, and thus reduce methane emissions. More than a million species of insects have been described after Carl Linnaeus, an 18th century Swedish biologist, who suggested the system of biological nomenclature—the system for naming, ranking, and classifying organisms, that we follow even today. It is estimated that there could be 5–30 million insect species, perhaps 85% or more of which still remain unknown to science; scientists are grappling to get a better estimate of the dimension of global insect diversity. Because of their small size and modest needs, most insects and other invertebrates—such as nematodes (round worms), spiders, molluscs (snails, clams, etc.)—occupy ecological niches that are more numerous, smaller in all dimensions, and more sensitive than those of vertebrates. Many species of insects are highly endemic, are sensitive to habitat disturbances, and even to microclimatic changes. Unprecedented loss of insect diversity across biomes is now widely acknowledged. Rapid habitat loss or alteration, and hazardous pollutants, 157

are recognised as important causes for this decline. The situation is particularly serious in the tropics, where invertebrate diversity is poorly documented. Currently, in the tropics we have A rare fungus feeding dung reached a situation beetle Delopleurus parvus. (Photo: Seena Narayanan where we do not even have a rough Karimbumkara) estimate of how many invertebrate species are threatened, or have already become extinct in the last few decades. This is largely due to our poor documentation and understanding of invertebrate diversity and ecology. This state of affairs is amply reflected in the peripheral treatment of invertebrates in our conservation policies, laws, and management practices.

KNOWLEDGE OF A THING PERISHES IF THEIR NAMES ARE UNKNOWN (Carl Linnaeus) Sound taxonomy is fundamental to the conservation of biological diversity. If an organism cannot be identified, we cannot understand the consequences of environmental changes and habitat degradation on that species; nor is the conservation of that species or group possible without proper identification (see Ganesan et al, this volume). Approximately 60,000 species of insects are identified and named in India, and it is estimated that at least 400,000–600,000 or more species are yet to be discovered. Somehow, in the post-independence era, insect studies have largely been biased towards control of pests to increase agricultural productivity, rather than focusing on diversity, or the ecological importance of insects. Today, species extinction is occurring faster than species discovery, and the loss of insects can impact ecosystem goods and services, and thus human wellbeing.

Since gene flow is largely restricted within it, the species is the natural taxonomic rank that forms the basis for both conservation assessments and management. Fundamental observations of the species or populations that require conservation attention are translated into some kind of population monitoring programmes, which lead to species conservation. Such systematic characterisation and quantification of biodiversity forms an essential pre-requisite for its conservation, management, and sustainable utilisation. Moreover, correct identification of the species forms the foundation for the formulation and implementation of national and international legislations. Without correct taxonomy, the lists that globally drive species conservation efforts, such as the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red Lists prioritising species for conservation, or The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) Onthophagus jwalae* lists of species prohib(Photo: Seena Narayanan Karimbum- ited in international kara & Dharma Rajan trade, are nugatory. Priyadarsanan) Due to realisation of the importance of biodiversity after the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) came into effect, taxonomy is at the threshold of a revival all over the world. The practice of taxonomy is making rapid strides, by imbibing energy from developments in molecular and computational techniques. Existence of a taxonomic impediment for conserving biological diversity, underscored by the CBD, is explicit in India. Irrespective of growing demand for taxonomic expertise, the number of taxonomists are dwindling all over the world. In recent years, research in insect systematics has dwindled at an alarming rate in India, and the number of practising taxonomists has come down drastically, with only a few trained taxonomists engaged in active research. The number of people available for systematics needs to * new species described by the lab in 2016

be increased several times to fulfill the primary task of inventorying our insect fauna. Unfortunately, national policies are further impeding taxonomy Onthophagus and biodiversity pithankithae* (Photo: Seena Narayanan Karimresearch in India. For example, legis- bumkara & Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan) lations such as the Biodiversity Act (2002), instead of promoting taxonomy, are bringing in new obstacles to taxonomic research, by impinging upon the freedom of researchers for exchange of specimens between countries for comparative studies, and even to safely deposit type specimens in museums of their choice1. Quality taxonomic research requires extensive collaboration and cooperation among specialists and institutions across continents, as the type of specimens of even closely related species may be held in museums in different continents (see Ganesan et al., this volume). No country has ever possessed enough expertise to identify all biological groups, and this gap was traditionally addressed through collaboration and collegiality of taxonomists. Species and genera with extensive geographical distributions breaching political boundaries of nation states make biological systematics Onthophagus tharalithae* (Photo: Seena truly international in Narayanan Karimbumtheory and practice2. kara & Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan) 1 Prathapan, KD., DR. Priyadarshanan, TC. Narendran, CA. Viraktamath, KA. Subramanian, NA. Aravind, and J. Poorani. 2006. Biological Diversity Act, 2002: shadow of permit-raj over research. Current Science 91(8): 1006–1007. 2 Priyadarshanan, DR., and P. Divakaran. 2009. Shared ownership of biological resources. Science 324(5930): 1014–1015.

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Box 1: The True Dung Beetles in the Western Ghats Dung beetles have recently received a great deal of attention from ecologists and conservationists, due to the range of ecological roles they play, and their high sensitivity to many kinds of human activities and habitat disturbances. They have therefore, been identified as an ideal focal group for biodiversity monitoring and inventory. Our studies have revealed that, dung beetle diversity increases with proximity to human settlements, owing to the high concentration of resource in the form of cattle dung, or human excreta. India has a rich dung beetle fauna of around 400 species, belonging to 30 genera and nine tribes. According “Your job in the dung is not easy. to our ongoing studies, the Western Ghats has an exYou have your own unique skills. Be of ceptionally rich dung beetle fauna of 194 species, beservice and help others.” -Elise Icten. longing to 29 genera. Apart from this, nine more new Considering the ecological importance, dung species of dung beetles have been described from the beetles (Scarabaeinae) are a focal group Western Ghats, and two from North East Himalayas. for ecological studies for entomologists at ATREE. Image: Proagoderus pactolus -Priyadarsanan Dharma Rajan and Seena (Fabricius, 1787) (Photo: Anu Radhakrishnan) Narayanan Karimbumkara.

DEMOCRATISING TAXONOMY FOR CONSERVATION AND HUMAN WELLBEING A reliable and comprehensive taxonomic treatment of most insect taxa of India is lacking, and this is impacting conservation, and other insect-based enterprises in the country. This is why ATREE has deliberately chosen insect taxonomy as one of the areas of its focus. The Insect Taxonomy and Conservation Laboratory (CITAC, ATREE) has initiated several national and regional-level programmes for advancing insect taxonomy in India by integrating taxonomy with modern techniques, and linking it to conservation and sustainable management of natural resources. Taxonomists here are undertaking inventory and taxonomic revisions of several lesser known, and functionally important, insect taxa such as dung beetles (subfamily Scarabaeinae), fig insects (family Agaonidae), ants (family Formicidae), etc. The insect lab team has published two monographs, several research 159

papers, and described several species new to science over the past few years. This research team, in collaboration with the India Biodiversity Portal, is leading an effort to compile information on insect resources of India into a multi-relational database, to be disseminated through the portal. The team has already compiled and published two national databases, one for Orthoptera (grasshoppers, crickets, etc.) and the other for Scarabaeinae (true dung beetles; see Box 1) of India3. These databases contain an information page for every species so far reported from India. Each species page is a compilation of curated systematic information of that species, high quality images depicting key features, habitat, and associated ecological, evolutionary, and ethno-biological information. The species pages also contain digitised data and images of specimens maintained in different museums within and outside India, including type specimens (i.e., specimens on which the species description is based). 3

http://indiabiodiversity.org/species/list

in order to conserve biological diversity that occurs across, and outside, protected areas. Large mammals utilise an extensive variety of habitats, and may not be as sensitive to small environmental changes as invertebrate taxa. The same yardstick that applies for the conservation of tigers cannot be applicable to tiger beetles, which are a much more diverse group with different niche requirements.

Students from pilot schools of the Vembanad Bioblitz being engaged in a Bioblitz session at ATREECERC, Alappuzha. (Photo: Anu Radhakrishnan) India should prioritise taxonomy as an important science, which forms the basis for the conservation of biological diversity. ATREE is attempting to revitalise insect taxonomy in India by training young taxonomists, organising capacity building and policy workshops, networking, strengthening inter-institutional collaborations, and providing taxonomic services to those who need it in an organised way.

A BOTTOM-UP STRATEGY FOR CONSERVING INSECT DIVERSITY Recent studies show that insects in the tropics are already living at the limit of their temperature threshold, and could be among the first taxa to go extinct as a result of global warming. The prevalent trend in conservation has been to neglect insects and other invertebrates due to their smaller size, and the associated taxonomic impediment. While formulating conservation policies and legislations, insects and other invertebrates, which comprise more than 95% of all species, are overlooked. Instead of graduating to an interdisciplinary and inclusive approach, conservation is still pivoting around a protectionist paradigm4. Such a conservation approach focusses on ‘charismatic species’, such as the tiger or elephant. It is time we ended this fetishisation of charismatic species, 4

Prathapan, KD., DR. Priyadarshanan, and J. Poorani. 2009. Protectionism and natural history research in India. Current Science 97(10): 1411–1413.

Questions vital to conservation, such as how a particular species of tree is pollinated, or how the pattern of herbivory is affected due to changes in climate, largely remain unattended. Many species of insects are being discovered from extremely small areas of the tropics. The potential diversity of these life forms in the tropics is very high, and if a relatively small area is logged or disturbed, many species will disappear forever. For example, Ficus, the most revered plant group in India, and a keystone resource for several birds and mammals, are the victims of developmental activities such as road widening. During one of our recent studies on fig insects (Chalcidoidea) collected from fig trees in Bengaluru urban district, we discovered that almost a dozen out of the 40 species of wasps were new to science. The goals of the CBD cannot be accomplished by conserving a few taxa and their habitat, but by conserving habitat heterogeneity, and ensuring ecosystem functioning.

itats such as village forests, or farm corridors amidst human-dominated landscapes. The majority of the Indian population still lives in these villages, synergistically protecting the biodiversity which they also depend on for their livelihood. Habitat loss and fragmentation caused by large tracts being converted for various development projects, and other environmental disturbances, are the major drivers of biodiversity loss.

which tropical forest management can minimise their loss. So, for effectively conserving the insect diversity, rather than a species-focussed approach, a conservation paradigm prioritising habitat heterogeneity and ecosystem health should be evolved. In short, conservation needs a ‘habitat approach’, conserving ‘macroscapes’ to conserve maximum diversity and maintain ecosystem integrity. Further Reading

We often forget lesser-known taxa like invertebrates, which comprise more than 95% of all species. The potential diversity of these less-charismatic taxa in the tropics is very high, and most of these are endemic to very small areas. Therefore, if a relatively small area is logged or disturbed, many species will disappear forever. Hence, every ecosystem, every fragment, small or large, is important for conserving insects. Since the majority of species remain undescribed, and data on the distribution and abundance of only a very few described species are available, assessing the threat status of each species, according to current day conservation norms, may not be practical. Very little is known about the degree of loss in insect diversity, and the extent to

Dubois, A. 2003. The relationships between taxonomy and conservation biology in the century of extinctions. Comptes Rendus Biologies 326: 9–21. Klein, AM., BE. Vaissière, JH. Cane, I. Steffan-Dewenter, SA. Cunningham, C. Kremen, and T. Tscharntke. 2007. Importance of pollinators in changing landscapes for world crops. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London B: Biological Sciences 274(1608): 303–313. New, TR. (ed). 2012. Insect conservation: past, present and prospects. Dordrecht: Springer. Samways, MJ. 2005. Insect diversity conservation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

An increasing human population is projected as the reason for biodiversity loss in India, but a closer perusal reveals a different picture: a large amount of biodiversity lies in island hab-

Orthopterans of India species page hosted at India Biodiversity Portal (IBP). 160

Dung beetles, ants and general collections at AIM-B. (Photo: Anu Radhakrishnan) 161

“Without taxonomy to give shape to the bricks, and systematics to tell us how to put them together, the house of biological science is a meaningless jumble,” Robert May (1990)

Introduction

The nitty gritty of a name: Systematic biolog y and conservation R. Ganesan, N.A. Aravind, Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan and G. Ravikanth

Smitha Shivaswamy 162

Effective conservation and management of biological diversity depends on our understanding of taxonomy. Taxonomy is the science of naming, describing, and classifying flora, fauna, and microorganisms. Taxonomists identify, describe, and classify species— including those that are new to science—on the basis of characteristics that include morphology, behaviour, genetics, ecology, and biochemistry. Systematics, on the other hand, is about the evolutionary inter-relationships of each and every named and described organism. Thus, taxonomy and systematics provide basic knowledge of biological diversity to underpin conservation, management, and implementation of national commitments under the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD). Unfortunately, inadequate taxonomic information hinders our ability to make informed decisions about conservation, sustainable use, and benefit sharing. India, a signatory to the CBD, is one among the 17 mega-diversity countries of the world, with four biodiversity hotspots. It has 136,000 species described till date, and has a unique assemblage of biodiversity. This rich biodiversity can be attributed to its varied climatic zones and geological features such as the Himalaya, the Western and Eastern Ghats combined with the Deccan Plateau, hot and cold deserts, mighty rivers such as the Ganga and Brahmaputra, with their flood plains, and a long coastline. The subcontinent’s diverse cultures and hundreds of ethnic communities are, in turn, intricately connected to this biodiversity and its conservation. However, the process of biodiversity documentation in

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India lags behind when compared to neighbouring countries such as Bhutan, China, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. As part of achieving the Aichi targets (20 new biodiversity targets for 2020) related to the CBD’s Strategic Plan for Biodiversity 2011–2020, India needs to better document its biodiversity, improve the conservation status of endangered species, and conserve ecologically representative landscapes. Taxonomy and conservation go hand-inhand. Efforts to understand the consequences of environmental change and degradation will be incomplete if the components of the ecosystems are not identified or described. Hence, documenting and assessing the biodiversity of a region is the first step to devising conservation plans to achieve the goal of biodiversity conservation. Although biodiversity in India was well documented during the pre- and post-independence period, recent studies have described numerous new plants and animals in the last 15 years, though they are restricted to selected groups such as frogs, butterflies, orchids, and rhododendrons. New descriptions of species are either due to intensive exploratory efforts in the Himalayas, or due to monographic studies involving molecular biological approaches (e.g., in the case of amphibians). Cataloguing and documenting India’s biological diversity, from genes to ecosystems, and reconstructing the evolutionary history and phylogeography (i.e., the distribution of genetic lineages) of India’s biodiversity, are the primary objectives of the Systematic Biology Group at ATREE. Our group works on systematics of plants, insects, freshwater and terrestrial snails, and frogs. We draw upon this work to illustrate how systematic biology (i.e., the study of the diversification of living forms, and their evolutionary inter-relationships) underpins biodiversity conservation.

its restricted distribution, and threats to the habitat of the endemic species, P. indofischeri, resulted in it being listed in the vulnerable threat category by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), and it has now been prioritised for conservation efforts at the national level. This example illustrates how bad taxonomy could ‘kill’ a species.

WHAT’S IN A NAME? Correct identification and naming are critical in planning for conservation, management, and sustainable harvest of resources, and also for prioritising sites for conservation programmes such as species recovery programmes. A good example is the case of amla or nelli (Indian gooseberry), an important fruit resource from Indian forests that is widely used in indigenous health practices and is also heavily traded. A large proportion of fruit collected still comes from wild populations, though the plant is also being cultivated for commercial-scale harvest. In India it has been collected from the plant botanically called Phyllanthus emblica, which is widely distributed in the Indian sub-continent, Sri Lanka, China, and most Southeast Asian countries. Interestingly, fruit from the Deccan Plateau of southern India are harvested from another species called Phyllanthus indofischeri1. The 1

Ganesan, R. 2003. Identification, distribution and conservation of Phyllanthus indofischeri, another source of Indian gooseberry. Current Science 84(12): 1515–1518.

Soliga, an indigenous community that resides primarily in the Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve (BRT), are aware of the distinct morphological features and spatial distribution of these two species, and have distinct vernacular names for them—bettada nelli (P.emblica), and ittu nelli (P. indofischeri). P. indofischeri is endemic to dry forests of the Deccan region, and its distribution is spatially segregated from that of P. emblica. Dry forests in the Deccan region are highly fragmented, denuded, or have been converted to farming, urbanisation, and other land use practices. In addition, P. indofischeri populations are also threatened by destructive harvesting practices, where branches are lopped for the collection of fruit. Most of the herbarium collections of this endemic species were wrongly identified as P. emblica. Similarly, many ecological and bioprospecting studies also have not distinguished between these two species of amla. Wrong identification led to a faulty status for the endemic species in the Deccan Plateau. This case study, which highlighted the taxonomy of amla, 164

The importance of taxonomy and identification in assigning conservation priorities for rare plants and threatened habitats is highlighted by another plant species, Crotalaria digitata, which has a narrow distributional range. C. digitata was described from a single collection from Madurai district in Tamil Nadu in 18292. Since then, it has not been recorded either from the location of its first collection (what taxonomists would call its ‘type location’), or anywhere else, and was considered extinct. However, there were reports about the plant from Coorg in the Central Western Ghats, and we found that it was due to wrong identification that it was confused with yet another species, C. grahami. Recently we collected C. digitata from a small hillock (surrounded by farmlands) on the periphery of Madurai. Rediscovery of C. digitata highlighted the fact that it is indeed restricted to Madurai region, and that its habitat is highly threatened. The present distribution and habitat status of this species indicates that C. digitata needs to be prioritised for conservation, e.g., through a species recovery programme.

Insect collections were made from all over the Western Ghats. The samples were curated and specimens are catalogued in the ATREE Insect Museum – Bangalore (AIM-B). A number of taxonomists from within India and abroad are collaborating in this effort. Taxonomists at ATREE are also involved in the revisions of a few ecologically important groups such as dung beetles (Scarabaeinae), ants (Formicidae), and parasitic wasps (Chalcidoidea). Several new species, especially of ants (Vombisidris humboldticola, Discothyrea sringerensis and Anochetus daedalus), moth flies (Gondwanoscurus jezeki, Saximormia gladiator, and Telmatoscopus arcuatus), parasitic wasps (Neorichohalticella sringerensis, Australomymar formosum, and Kiggaella oryzae), and dung beetles (Onthophagus jwalae, Onthophagus pithankithae, Onthophagus tharalithae, Onitis bhomorensis, Onitis kethai, and Onitis visthara), which are new to science, were described from this collection. Of these, Neorichohalticella and Kiggaella are genera that are new to science, and Gondwanoscurus and Saximormia are genera that are new to India.

CLASSICAL TAXONOMY Classical taxonomy was used for the Western Ghats Insect Inventory Programme, which is a large-scale insect inventory and documentation project planned and implemented by the team at ATREE. This programme was aimed to source new collections and data for the terrestrial insect fauna of the Western Ghats. 2

Muthu, RK and R. Ganesan. 2012. Rediscovery of Crotalaria digitata (Fabaceae) from Madurai district, Tamil Nadu, India. Rheedea 22(2): 103–106.

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Crotalaria digitata, only found in Madurai district, Tamil Nadu. We recently collected a specimen from a small hillock on the outskirts of Madurai-the first such record since its original collection in 1829. (Photo: R. Ganesan)

UNRAVELING HIDDEN TREASURES FROM HERBARIUM AND MUSEUM COLLECTIONS

well-studied groups such as Rhododendron, indicates the potential for more studies that could unearth many new discoveries.

As part of the strategy to allocate resources towards improving taxonomic studies in India, systematic revisions (which entail revising taxonomic knowledge of organisms to the global standard) involving rich collections in herbaria and museums, and explorations in regions that are less explored, have been highlighted. Globally, collections in herbaria and museums are curated for their current systematic position due to systematic revisionary studies. However, collections in India are still far behind in curation for taxonomic details with updated taxonomic status.

Hidden treasures in museums are not only restricted to plants. Another example comes from land snails of the genus Allopeas. Col. Henry Haversham Godwin-Austen, one of the pioneers who worked on Indian snails in the 18th and early 19th century, had collected 19 species from India (two from South India, and 17 from Northeast India), and had described the species in an unpublished manuscript, that remained hidden in the archives of the NHM in London. We are now collaborating with researchers at NHM to describe these 19 species.

A plant belonging to genus Litsea (Lauraceae) , collected from long-term vegetation monitoring plots established in Kalakad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve (KMTR; see Ganesh et al, this volume), was not comparable with any described species available in floras or collections from regional herbaria. Later, we referred to collections from India and adjacent floristic regions, deposited at the Kew Herbarium, and at the British Natural History Museum (NHM) in London. Interestingly, in NHM we found unnamed specimens from KMTR (at that time known as Singampatty Hills and Courtallum Hills), collected by Col. Richard Beddome, which resembled the unidentifiable plant collected from KMTR by us. It was confirmed that the plant was new to science. The collections from NHM and Kew also showed that the plant is endemic to the Agasthyamalai forest in southern India. This highlights the importance of herbarium collections, field collections, and systematic revisions in documenting and assessing biodiversity, even in regions such as the Western Ghats. Also, the number of new discoveries of plants in the Himalayan region, especially in 3

Ganesan, R. 2011. Litsea kakkachensis (Lauraceae) – a new species from Agasthyamalai, Western Ghats, India. Rheedea 21(2):143–146.

The recent discovery of a novel ant species, Anochetus daedalus by ATREE entomologists further underscores the importance of museum collections. It was a single specimen of an ant collected 165 years ago, and safely preserved in a museum abroad that helped to reveal the identity of this mysterious ant collected during a field trip. On a vertical fall along a forest trail in Sirsi (Karnataka), we found an elaborate, maze-like structure made of mud. Excavating this structure revealed a few trap jaw ants (genus Anochetus) moving around in horizontal galleries. Anochetus is a genus of carnivorous ants, possessing long

Anochetus daedalus, a new ant species discovered by Aniruddha Marathe and Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan in 2016. (Photo: Aniruddha Marathe) 166

and to make them available for scientists from all over the world to study.) On our request, the curators of the museum arranged good quality in-focus images of the holotype. The availability of the data of this 165-year old specimen was instrumental in accurately identifying this ant, found along a forest trail in Sirsi, as a new species4.

MULTIPLE APPROACHES IN TAXONOMIC RESEARCH

pincer like mandibles that snap shut on their prey like a bear trap, with such force that the prey may get cut into pieces. These ants form small nests with around 100 individuals in a colony, and are very shy and cryptic. Moving silently through the leaf litter, they forage on insects and other small invertebrates on the ground. From a detailed study of a few collected specimens in the lab, scientists found it different from all other 11 species of Anochetus known from India; it closely resembled Anochetus neitneri, another species described from Sri Lanka by the British Entomologist, Roger, in 1891. Roger got only a single specimen of this ant, which he had described as Odontomachus neitneri, and this remains the only authentic report of this species till now. Luckily, this holotype was safely preserved in the National Museum of Natural History in Berlin (Museum für Naturkunde) with its new valid name Anochetus neitneri. (A holotype is the authentic reference specimen based on which a new species is described; museums take special care to keep such specimens safe 167

There are criticisms that frequent name changes, or the changing taxonomic position of organisms lead to a change in the prioritisation of species for conservation, and therefore undermine conservation efforts. Stability of the names and their taxonomic position (species, genus, family, etc.) is debated by taxonomists themselves. However, like any other scientific discipline, newer knowledge and tools are getting integrated into taxonomy. This ‘integrative taxonomy’ (classical taxonomy complemented with molecular, acoustic, anatomical, numerical, and niche modelling tools), is leading to a better resolution of relationships among different taxa within a group, and necessitates shifting the taxonomic location of species from one genus to another, or even shifting genera from one family to another. Integrative taxonomic approaches have been used to delineate species, especially those that are cryptic in nature, such as the genera Raorchestes (bush frogs) and Nyctibatrachus (night frogs). (Cryptic species are those that are difficult to tell apart.) The Systematics Biology Group at ATREE, along with researchers from other institutes, has recently described four new frog species from the Western Ghats based on molecular, morphological, and numerical taxonomic methods (e.g., Nyctibatrachus kumbara, Raorchestes kakachi, R. 4 Marathe, A. and DR. Priyadarshanan. 2016. A new ant species of the genus Anochetus (Hymenoptera: Formicidae) from India with a remarkable nest entrance architecture. Current Science 110(6): 1105–1107.

honnametti and Microhyla laterite)5,6. Similarly, in the case of freshwater snails (belonging to the genus Cremnoconchus), reproductive anatomy and radula (tooth) structure, apart from morphological characters, were used to identify these highly cryptic species that live in waterfalls. This genus has nine species, all of which are endemic and restricted to waterfalls of the western slope of the Western Ghats escarpment. We are also applying molecular tools to complement morphological and anatomical results for land and freshwater mollusc systematics7. The integrative approach is being used to revise selected families of land snails and freshwater molluscs of India.

TAXONOMIC DATABASES AND CONSERVATION Taxonomic databases are the knowledge base upon which all discussion of conservation rests. Inventories derived from the synthesis of such 5 Priti, H., RS. Roshmi, B. Ramya, HS. Sudhira, G. Ravikanth, NA. Aravind, and KV. Gururaja. 2016. Integrative taxonomic approach for describing a new cryptic species of Bush Frog (Raorchestes: Anura: Rhacophoridae) from the Western Ghats, India. PLoS ONE 11(3): e0149382. 6

Priti H., Gururaja, KV., and G. Ravikanth. 2015. Morphology, natural history and molecular identification of tadpoles of three endemic frog species of Nyctibatrachus Boulenger,1882 (Anura: Nyctibatrachidae) from Central Western Ghats, India. Journal of Natural History 49(43–44): 2667–2681.

Raheem, D., H. Taylor, J. Ablett, RC. Preece, NA. Aravind, and F. Naggs. 2014. A systematic revision of the Land Snails of the Western Ghats of India. Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University.

taxonomic information give an overview of the state of biodiversity, and enable the identification of key indicators, and the analysis of important patterns and processes. Inventories also provide baseline information for the assessment of change, and data for conserving and managing biodiversity. Many of the issues in biodiversity assessments in India revolve around a central problem of a lack of such collated data of various inventories available from a single source. In addition to the conventional roles of revising and publishing new taxa and preparing monographs, taxonomists have the added duty to disseminate taxonomic information worldwide in digital formats, to shorten the distance between discovery and delivery. We have developed taxonomic databases for several taxa (land and freshwater snails, rattans, amphibians, balsams, ants, bees, dung beetles, and grasshoppers). These databases are extensively used to identify regions of high conservation importance, and also to assess the conservation status of species. For example, the database on freshwater molluscs developed at ATREE was used in assessing the Red List status for 120 species for IUCN8. Similarly, the database on amphibians was used 8 Aravind, NA, NA Madhyastha, GM. Rajendra and A. Dey. 2011. The status and distribution of freshwater molluscs of the Western Ghats. In: The status and distribution of freshwater biodiversity in the Western Ghats, India (Compilers: Mollur, S., KG. Smith, BA. Daniel, WRT Darwall. Cambridge, UK and Gland, Switzerland: IUCN, and Coimbatore, India: Zoo Outreach Organisation, Pp 59–72.

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to assess the effectiveness of protected areas for conservation. We also propose to use these databases to generate digital keys for identification of species on mobile platforms. As part of our conservation initiatives, we have also carried out species recovery efforts (i.e., efforts to slow the decline of an endangered or threatened species and to remove threats to its survival) for some critically endangered species of the Western Ghats. Along with researchers from other institutes, species recovery has been carried out for tree species such as Semecarpus kathalekanensis and Myristica malabarica in the Western Ghats. The recovery programme was carried out after obtaining critical information on the distribution of the species, identifying their ecological niches, and assessing the levels and distribution of genetic variability, besides understanding the demographics and the reproductive biology of the species. We have also carried out habitat restoration for some Myristica swamps in the Western Ghats that were on the verge of extinction.

servationists together to discuss appropriate amendments to the NBA regulations related to collection and sharing of biological materials to facilitate systematic revisions of Indian plants and animals. We have also written a series of critiques on the Biological Diversity Act, 2002, to improve the policy decisions that could facilitate taxonomic research in India9,10.

POLICY AND SYSTEMATICS

KNOWLEDGE DISSEMINATION

In the recent past, many researchers have highlighted the numerous impediments to the practice of taxonomy in India. Lack of support for taxonomic research, the dwindling number of research institutions involved in taxonomy, and the lack of trained human resource in taxonomy—specifically who can apply integrated taxonomic approaches for effective and sound conservation action, have been major obstacles to taxonomic research. Restrictions in specimen collections for taxonomic work imposed by Forest Departments and the National Biodiversity Authority (NBA), and restrictions on sharing herbarium specimens and other biological materials with experts abroad, are yet other stumbling blocks to practicing taxonomy. This will have a cascading effect on conservation of biodiversity and biological resources in India. We have made a significant effort in bringing various taxonomists and con-

Except for a few well-known taxa, the existing biological inventory data are largely patchy and incomplete in India. Availability of collated taxonomic information in an easily accessible form for the public or the policy maker could facilitate decision making for the conservation of species or habitats. One such effort is the India Biodiversity Portal (IBP), an open access biodiversity information platform developed by a consortium of organisations, including ATREE (http://indiabiodiversity.org/). The portal aims to establish a collaborative information system that will integrate an array of biodiversity

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The Honnametti bush frog, collected from Biligiri Rangaswami Temple Tiger Reserve, highlights the importance of field studies in documenting biodiversity. (Photo: NA. Aravind)

Prathapan, KD., DR. Priyadarshanan, TC. Narendran, CA. Viraktamath, NA. Aravind, and J. Poorani. 2008. Death sentence on taxonomy in India. Current Science 94(2): 170–171. 10 Prathapan, KD., and DR. Priyadarsanan. 2011. Biological Diversity: a common heritage. Economic & Political weekly 46(14): 15–17.

vation at the national level. The research- and outreach-based outputs from this group have influenced conservation planning for biodiversity and natural resources in India. Such efforts as biodiversity documentation, and prioritising species and habitats for conservation, have contributed to achieving national biodiversity targets related to biodiversity conservation.

nication and visual technologies to advance the science of systematics and to garner more support for conservation. Through research outputs, engagements with policy makers, and with the general public, we plan to influence policy related to biodiversity documentation and management in India. Further Reading

The curved tip of the projection found in the waist region is a unique distinguishing character for the ant, Anochetus daedalus (b), from the other ant species of the genus Anochetus neitneri (a) . This photo (on left) emphasises the importance of museum collections in species discoveries. knowledge in order to identify and prioritise conservation of biodiversity in India11.

ownership among contributors by documenting and disseminating information through IBP.

Secondly, availability of curated information on plants and animals is critical for identification by the common public, either to document biodiversity at a regional scale, or to create awareness about rare plants and animals, and their habitat. We contribute to the India Biodiversity Portal in the form of species pages for selected group of plants, snails, insects, and invasive species. Curated information, including the taxonomy (valid published names, synonyms, etc.), description, distribution, species images, and scanned images from herbarium or museum collections are included in these species pages.

CONCLUSION AND THE WAY FORWARD

Contributions to IBP in the form of observations, pictures, notes, checklists, etc., from citizen scientists are also curated by us. Through annual interaction meetings, workshops for IBP at the regional level, taxa or group specific campaigns (e.g., the Neighborhood Tree Census, Moth Week, Bioblitz), ATREE contributes towards building 11 Vattakaven, T., RM. George, D. Balasubramanian, M. Réjou-Méchain, G. Muthusankar, BR. Ramesh, and R Prabhakar. 2016. India Biodiversity Portal: an integrated, interactive and participatory biodiversity informatics platform. Biodiversity Data Journal 4: e10279

Quality taxonomic research requires extensive collaboration and cooperation among specialists and institutions across countries, as biological species are distributed across national boundaries. For accurate generic and species determinations, it is essential to study specimens from across political boundaries and even continents. With our experience in addressing taxonomic impediments and biodiversity conservation issues in India, we plan to upscale our effort by partnering with other institutions in India and neighbouring countries. We also plan to harness commu-

The Systematic Biology Group in ATREE, with its expertise in generating primary knowledge, has contributed towards describing new species of plants and animals, especially less charismatic and lesser known groups such as snails, dung beetles, ants, and frogs. Plant and animal species, and their habitats, have been prioritised for conservation and sustainable use of biological resources based on the taxonomic studies that have been carried out with the help of herbarium and museum specimen studies. Efforts have also been made to convince policy makers about the importance of allowing collection, and sharing of plant and animal specimens between experts globally to improve the science of systematics in India. Outreach activities by the group in the form of sharing knowledge through online portals (IBP) and social media, involving citizen scientists, and courses and workshops related to biodiversity documentation and conservation, have increased public support for biodiversity conser170

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Dick, CW. and WJ. Kress. 2009. Dissecting tropical plant diversity with forest plots and a molecular toolkit. Bioscience 59(9): 745–755. May, RM. 1990. Taxonomy as destiny. Nature 347 (6289): 129-130. Morrison III, WR., JL. Lohr, P. Duchen, R. Wilches, D. Trujillo, M. Mair, SS. Renner. 2009. The impact of taxonomic change on conservation: does it kill, can it save, or is it just irrelevant? Biological Conservation 142(12): 3201–3206.

Why do we care? Unpacking the ‘environmental’ in our environmental science Sharachchandra Lele

As we at ATREE conduct research on the environment, it would be fair to assume that we care about the environment, or would it? In the first lecture of the core ATREE PhD course called ‘Practising Interdisciplinary Research on the Environment,’ I usually ask the students how many of them are willing to call themselves ‘environmentalists’. Very few hands tend to go up. The same with the label ‘conservationists’. When I probe as to why, it seems that the students see environmentalists or conservationists as ‘activists’, which means taking sides, advocating policies, or staging protests or dharnas as we call them. Whereas, in seeking a PhD and probably careers in academia after that, the students believe that their role is to be a ‘scholar’, and thereby to shun such activism. When asked whether they ‘care’ about biodiversity loss or environmental degradation, the answer is of course in the affirmative. But they believe that it is both necessary and possible to study the environment as a ‘neutral’, ‘objective’ scientist, not as an activist holding subjective positions. I would not be surprised if I got a similar reaction from the wider environmental research community. Given that our ultimate motivation in doing environmental research often is to help ameliorate the multifarious environmental problems confronting our society, we struggle with the dilemma of how to ‘objectively’ study problems that we ‘subjectively’ care about. But we rarely spend enough time thinking about what exactly it is that we care about and why, what the different forms of environmental ‘caring’ might be, and how they relate with each other and with other social goals. Rather, we end up playing shadow games, trying to make our recommendations for environmental policy appear value-neutral, because society believes (and we are happy to go along with that belief) that science can provide objective answers to social dilemmas.

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BEING SCIENTIFIC WHILE SPEAKING TO ENVIRONMENTAL VALUES In trying to explain how research on environmental problems is necessarily value-loaded, I have found it useful to start by unpacking the word ‘problem’. In much of academia, this word means a ‘puzzle’, something that is not fully explained by current scientific understanding. What constitutes a problem is then decided by academics, and problem-solving means solving the puzzle to the satisfaction of fellow academics. But environmental research, like all applied research, straddles academia and the real world, and in the real world, the word ‘problem’ often has a different meaning—it refers to an undesirable situation. Problem-solving here refers to amelioration of that undesirable situation. What is undesirable is of course defined by the values that society holds. Whether it is people suffering from hunger or malnourishment, someone facing differential treatment based on gender or caste, or the population of tigers being decimated—these happenings become ‘problems’ only when someone holds values by which these phenomena are seen as undesirable, if not abhorrent. When environmental chemists seek to understand air pollution, they are operating on a commonly agreed upon definition of ‘pollution’, i.e., particles or chemicals that cause undesirable impacts on human health. Similarly, the goals of problem-solving applied research are always (implicitly or explicitly) defined by or with reference to positive values such as ‘well-being’, ‘efficiency’, ‘sustainability’, ‘resilience’ or ‘justice’. While these broader terms are more contested than say pollution, there is no question that all of them are value-laden1. Amulya Reddy, one of India’s foremost scholars of the energy-society relationship, once 1

Lele, S. and RB. Norgaard. 1996. Sustainability and the scientist’s burden. Conservation Biology 10 (2): 354–365.

pointed out to me that being scientific is not the same as being value-neutral. The former simply requires the systematic application of the scientific method to understand cause-effect relationship in any phenomenon. This distinction can help us resolve the persistent tension between the expectation that scientists will be objective (i.e., value-neutral) and the fact that there is no value-neutral way in which to describe and explain anything called environmental ‘degradation’. Our job is not to be value-neutral, but value-explicit, and then systematic in investigating and elucidating the relationship between human and biophysical processes and those outcomes that are valued by someone. Or, as ecological economist Richard Norgaard puts it, one can only be objective with respect to an objective. Engaging rigorously with the idea of environmental science as necessarily value-laden is, however, not easy. Our socialisation is one reason: those trained as pure scientists, such as biologists, have more difficulty with this idea than those trained as engineers or agronomists, who accept that they have a social mandate, even though they may err on the side of rather uncritically accepting that mandate. Pure scientists then end up doing what Roger Pielke calls ‘stealth issue advocacy’. That is, they try to insist that science inexorably leads to unique, ‘objectively determined’ prescriptions such as ‘maintaining biological integrity’ or ‘ecosystem health’ and then go on to define these concepts in subjective and value-loaded ways. A few environmental scientists have taken a more explicit approach: Michael Soulé and other pioneers of conservation biology make it clear that it is a ‘mission-driven discipline.’ So also, the proponents of sustainability science. While this is useful, one needs to go further and ask what this characterisation of the environmental scientist’s mission means and whether it adequately captures the full range of environmental concerns.

CONSERVATION, SUSTAINABILITY AND ENVIRONMENTAL JUSTICE: DIMENSIONS OF ENVIRONMENTAL CONCERN Like many of us, my own induction into environmental thinking came about from being exposed to the beauty of wildlife around us through birdwatching trips and nature camps in high school. At that point, being an environmentalist was for me synonymous with being a conservationist. It wasn’t till I read the path-breaking Citizens’ Report on the State of India’s Environment, published in 1982 by Anil Agarwal and others, that I understood the broader significance of environmental processes in all human affairs. As I moved into the field of environmental studies, the new buzzword that emerged was ‘sustainability’—a term popularised by the Brundtland Commission’s report. It seemed that all environmental concerns could somehow be fitted under the rubric of sustainability. Subsequently, an environmental justice discourse emerged that strongly critiqued the sustainability and conservation discourses as too simplistic. In the meanwhile, the sustainability discourse got transformed (at least partly) into a resilience discourse. The latter discourse has gained even more popularity recently as rapid and unpredictable climate change looms literally on the horizon. These are not just changes in buzzwords, or shouldn’t be. Terms such as conservation, sustainability and environmental justice highlight different but equally important strands or ideas of environmentalism. The issue of tropical forest conservation illustrates this very nicely. My own PhD dissertation sought to understand how and why even individually controlled forests in the Western Ghats of India were supposedly degrading. I realised in the end that degradation or its opposite— sustainability—could only be usefully defined as a decline over time in a particular benefit, say, firewood, that a particular community 174

may want from the forest. Once identified, one could assess whether this benefit was declining or likely to decline over time, i.e., whether the use was ‘sustainable’ or not2, 3. As sustainability is about maintaining something undiminished over time, a discussion of environmental sustainability draws attention to processes that link current human actions with their future impacts, impacts that may be too far in the future to be part of our typical decision-making calculus. Economists would call these impacts ‘temporal’ externalities. The value they speak to is that of concern for the future, whether one’s own or that of future generations. But not all problems related to forest management can be couched in terms of sustainable use. Forests also provide other benefits, such as timber or fodder or hydrological regulation, the production of which may be at odds with the production of firewood. Simply put, more trees means less grass, or more timber production means less streamflow. The question of which benefit to prioritise is not a sustainability question, but one about whose benefits to prioritise. Many other environmental issues are even more starkly about environmental justice: impacts of upstream water pollution on downstream consumers of water, upwind factories emitting air pollutants breathed in by downwind communities, the building of large dams that displaces farming populations while producing electricity, or the mining of minerals that deprives forest-dwellers of forest-based livelihoods. These are all problems created by ‘spatial’ externalities: impacts felt here and now, but by someone other than the decision-maker. And they speak to values of intra-generational justice 2 Lele, S. 1994. Sustainable use of biomass resources: a note on definitions, criteria, and practical applications. Energy for Sustainable Development 1(4): 42-46. 3

Lele, S. 2000. Degradation, sustainability or transformation? Seminar 486: 31-37.

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or fairness4. Of course, several environmental problems consist of both spatial and temporal externalities—such as dams creating immediate displacement by submergence as well as water-logging in the irrigated areas in the long term. Nevertheless, the values underpinning these two types of externalities are quite distinct: one is concern for one’s fellow beings while the other is concern for one’s own future or possibly one’s future generations. Conservation concerns also cannot be force-fitted into the language of either sustainability or intra-generational justice. Animal rights activists do use the language of inter-species justice for promoting conservation, but others may want to save (say) tigers or lions or pandas only for aesthetic or religious reasons. Indeed, many conservationists in India do not agree with animal rights folks when it comes to dealing with the menace of stray dogs. Nor does it help to put conservation on a pedestal, as the deep ecologists try to do, by invoking the idea of nature having ‘intrinsic value’. Because to say that ‘nature would have value even if there were no human beings on the face of the earth to give it this value’ is to forget that values are always anthropogenic, a product of the human mind. Hence, Madhav Gadgil, one of India’s leading conservation biologists, has argued that the “most enduring rationale for conservation of living diversity [is] the provision of an elevating experience for all people,” and therefore a ‘quality of life’ issue. Others may baulk at this particular wording. But most will probably agree with the broader argument that the ethical underpinnings of conserving non-human species or ecosystems, safeguarding one’s future, and not destroying someone else’s life are fairly distinct. Conservation, sustainability and environmental justice are better seen as three legs of the environmental stool, each in turn containing many layers: 4

Lele, S. 1994. Sustainability, Environmentalism, and Science. Pacific Institute Newsletter 3(1): 1-25.

sustainability-as-dynamic-equilibrium or sustainability-as-resilience, procedural justice or equity or equality, and so on5.

ARE ENVIRONMENTAL CONCERNS ENOUGH? In a world where environmental concerns— along any of the above dimensions—are being given short-shift, where over-development is clearly a major part of the problem, and where even under-developed countries seem to put faith in the same processes of modernisation and industrialisation that brought us to the situation we are in today, environmentalists may be forgiven for thinking that they have to plough a lone furrow, and see other societal concerns as distractions at best—be they poverty alleviation, or democracy, or disarmament, or human rights. A bit of reflection makes it clear, however, that one cannot really act upon the basis of one’s environmental values without subscribing to or taking a position on at least some additional social values. For instance, if addressing environmental problems requires changing human behaviour, what methods for bringing about such change are acceptable? Is imposing an environmental agenda by undemocratic means acceptable? Western conservation groups have sometimes implicitly answered the question in the affirmative by working with military dictatorships in tropical countries6. But surely the freedom to pursue a conservationist agenda only exists in a democratic setup? Similarly, can one brush aside the poverty alleviation agenda as ‘anthropocentric’ when one’s own lifestyle—and that of most environ5

Lele, S. 2013. Environmentalisms, justices, and the limits of Ecosystems Services Frameworks. In: The justices and injustices of Ecosystems Services (ed. Sikor, T.). Pp. 119-139. Oxon, U.K: Earthscan/Routledge.

Noam, Z. 2004. The greening of a dictatorship. The Irrawaddy 12 (9). http://www2.irrawaddy.com/print_article.php?art_id=4122. Accessed on November 10, 2016.

mental scientists world-wide—is so far above the poverty line, to put it mildly? On the contrary, as Amita Baviskar has argued, basic amenities of life—the roti, kapda, makaan of Indian politics—have inextricable material dimensions and so must be part of an environmentalist agenda. Similarly, one cannot treat all pollution as the same: survival carbon emissions of a poor person are surely on a different footing than the emissions from a rich person’s luxury consumption? Social justice thinking has to be overlaid on top of environmental concerns. In short, democracy, poverty alleviation, and social justice are dimensions on which all ‘environmental’ strategies need to be evaluated and ranked, and, if necessary, discarded.

NARROW AGENDAS LEAD TO POOR SCIENCE Given this multiplicity of environmental and social goals, one would think the need to do value-explicit and indeed ‘multi-valent’ science would be obvious. However, a lack of self-reflectivity has meant that, instead of broadening the set of values to which one’s applied research speaks, environmental scientists of different persuasions have often tried to bring about convergence around their particular goals by stretching and contorting their science. The Brundtland Report argued that poverty is the outcome of environmental degradation and vice-versa, so that developmental concerns and environmental concerns are not at loggerheads but are in fact perfectly aligned. But in fact, poverty and environmental degradation may often be the result of something else—unequal rights over resources7. More recently, the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment has made the empirical argument that sustaining human material well-being necessarily requires conserving all natural 7

Lele, S. M. 1991. Sustainable development: a critical review. World Development 19 (6): 607–621.

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biodiversity, because this biodiversity is the basis for all ecosystem services that generate human well-being. But in fact, most of the recent gains in human material well-being have come from increasing use of abiotic resources, and it is this form of resource use that has also led to the biggest environmental problems, including climate change8. The ecosystem service argument then seems nothing but a stealth advocacy of what is really conservation for its own sake.

TOWARDS A MULTI-VALENT ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE I have argued that our environmental science must be underpinned by a conscious, self-reflective, multi-dimensional environmental and social ethic, what Ramachandra Guha has called a ‘cross-cultural environmental ethic’. Institutionalising and translating this idea into an approach to research is easier said than done. It involves firstly accepting that all the outcome variables that we use to set up an environmental problem with—forest cover, species diversity, groundwater depth, or the share of photovoltaics in electricity generation—reflect value-loaded positions about what constitutes a ‘good’ environment and a ‘good’ society. At the same time, it requires us to recognise that our task as scientists—social or natural— is not to identify the ‘right’ environmental policies from our narrow personal notions of this good environment or good society. Instead, our task is to understand and explicate the relationships—links, trade-offs and synergies—between human actions and the larger set of environmental concerns that we see society subscribing to, and also how these might relate to other equally legitimate social goals. For instance, my colleagues and 8

Lele, S., O. Springate-Baginski, R. Lakerveld, D. Deb and P. Dash. 2013. Ecosystem services: origins, contributions, pitfalls and alternatives. Conservation and Society 11 (4): 343–358.

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I have used a five-dimensional framework of adequacy, quality, sustainability, fairness and democratic governance to characterise water management in river basins and then sought to link different interventions and policies to these dimensions9. Given the correlation between disciplines and the normative lenses that they inevitably bring to socio-environmental problems, functioning in interdisciplinary teams is an obvious imperative. But what will also be required is developing ways of engaging with diverse social groups, and of reducing the hierarchies between scientists and lay people. If a pun can be pardoned, we need to think about the environment in which we do our environmental science. Further reading CSE. 1982. A statement of shared concern. In: State of India’s environment (eds. Agrawal, A., R. Chopra, and K. Sharma). New Delhi: Centre for Science and Environment. Gadgil, M. 1998. Why conserve living diversity? The Hindu (Bangalore Edition). March 29 Guha, R. 1989. Radical American environmentalism and wilderness preservation: a Third World critique. Environmental Ethics 11(1): 71–83. Guha, R. 1997. Towards a cross-cultural environmental ethic. In: Varieties of environmentalism: essays North and South (eds. Guha, R. and J. Martinez-Alier). Pp. 77-91. London: Earthscan Pielke, RA. 2007. The honest broker: making sense of science in policy and politics. Cambridge, UK.: Cambridge University Press.

Lele, S., V. Srinivasan, BK. Thomas, and P. Jamwal. in review. Adapting to climate change in rapidly urbanizing river basins: a multiple-concerns, multiple-stressors and multi-level approach. (In review).

While reporting on the Student Conference on Conservation Science held in Bangalore in September 2016, journalist Bahar Dutt described the disappointment that many conference participants expressed at the new turn that conservation science was taking, in its emphasis on the social sciences. There seemed to be some resistance, among a section of the participants, to the inclusion of social science plenaries and workshops in a conservation science conference. Dutt ended her article saying, “How much social science should be taught to students of wildlife biology may continue to remain a debate. But whether it should be taught is no longer a valid question.” That we do not ask whether we should teach the social and natural sciences as separate programmes is a result of the effort of a recent history of integrated research and teaching in many institutions across the world. The global trend augers well for democratizing scientific research and making it more relevant and useful to society.

A dialogue of disciplines: ATREE’s PhD programme in conservation science and sustainability studies Nitin D. Rai and Gladwin Joseph Paramesha Mallegowda 178

At ATREE our work is based on the premise that all environmental issues are, at their core, a combination of natural and social processes, and that attempts to address environmental issues need an integrated approach. This has required a conscious attempt, over the last two decades, to attract both natural and social scientists to ATREE. The resulting diversity in faculty interests, and disciplinary areas, has given rise to fresh and new ways of exploring and understanding issues that intersect nature and society. The PhD programme in ATREE, which had a modest start in 2006, most emphatically reflects this integrated approach to conservation and sustainability studies. ATREE felt the need to invest in equipping the next generation of conservation leaders in India with interdisciplinary ways of thinking. Thus, in 2006, ATREE, with generous funding from a variety of donors, established the Academy for Conservation Science and Sustainability Studies, to train the next generation of academicians and practitioners. 179

During the first 10 years of ATREE’s existence, research programmes grew at a rapid pace. This was not surprising, given the nascent stage of environment and development research in India, and the considerable need for research on the interface between environment and society. ATREE attracted researchers who had interdisciplinary, and applied, interests but had few Indian institutions to choose from. The early phase of research and inquiry was focused around conservation issues. ATREE researchers made serious attempts to broaden the idea of conservation as an interdisciplinary applied science. We tried to integrate the practice of conservation with its theoretical constructs. Such an integration supported the emerging understanding among conservation biologists the world over, that conservation was really far more than biology alone. We also began to see the limitations of focusing only on conservation of focal species, and in protected areas, without a deeper understanding of its place in the larger context of development. So when the Center for Interdisciplinary Studies in Environment and Development (CISED), with its focus on the larger environment-development issues, merged with ATREE in 2009, it seemed only natural, and it strengthened our combined efforts to become a one-of-a-kind interdisciplinary institution in India. Research at the interface of environment and development justly contests the academic conventions that ghettoise disciplines, and decouple theory from practice. ATREE’s PhD programme seriously attempts to address these historical lacunae by providing students with a teaching-learning environment that bridges disciplines, grounds them in the relevant intellectual developments, and also exposes them to the socio-political contexts of their research. By teaching fundamental and advanced courses, and mentoring independent researchers, faculty at ATREE keep fully engaged with current academic debates. The PhD programme trains inde-

The curious case of Lantana camara Bharath Sundaram

How are plants distributed in a highland forest? Arundhati Das

Invasive alien species are those that have been transported from their home or native range and introduced—either accidentally or deliberately—into a new habitat. Once these species successfully establish breeding populations in their introduced range, they sometimes change the ecosystem structure or alter ecosystem functioning in fundamental ways. These fundamental changes are usually to the detriment of native biodiversity. In peopled landscapes, invasive species enter the lexicon of local knowledge, by influencing fundamental aspects of the largely forest-dependent lives of indigenous communities. Management of invasive species, therefore, has all the trappings of a wicked problem—incomplete scientific knowledge, competing conservation and management priorities, and competing knowledge systems. I sought to answer these questions during the course of my doctoral research. I examined the patterns, effects, and processes of forest invasion by Lantana camara (lantana) and tried to understand management options for the species The relationship between forest fires and lantana by juxtaposing local with scientific knowledge. invasion was investigated in the Biligirirangan Hills. Field data about fire frequency was assessed I conducted my research in the Biligiri Rangasagainst the change in lantana density and distribuwamy Temple Tiger Reserve (BRT), located in tion. (Photo: Bharath Sundaram) Karnataka, home to an indigenous community, the Soliga, and also the new home for lantana (since at least 1934). Lantana spread rapidly across BRT between 1997 and 2008, to become the most numerically dominant species in the area. In lantana-invaded areas, the diversity and abundance of native tree species declined significantly. The spread of lantana probably occurred due to movement of seeds from previously invaded sites and the lack of forest fires. Lantana persistence, on the other hand, was probably enabled by lantana saturating the soil with its seeds in a much more successful fashion than native species. The Soligas recognized the changes that occurred due to lantana in their forest, and cited the dispersal ability of lantana to be a strong factor working in its favor. They also maintained that the prevention of human induced forest fires has led to the success of lantana. However, they ruled out a return to the traditional fire regimes because the high density of lantana would likely cause devastating fires that native species would not be able to withstand. They suggested that the lantana population be thinned first, after which there could be a gradually return to a regular fire regime. Although using fire for controlling lantana is anathema for forestry officials, policy Forest plots established by ATREE researchers in enabling forest democratization may hopefully 1998 were revisited in 2008 in order to assess pave the way for lantana control in BRT by using changes in vegetation- both in terms of diversity fire as a tool in the future. and abundance. (Photo: Samira Agnihotri)

The ecologically distinct and narrowly distributed upper montane (shola) forests in the Western Ghats are not as well studied as their lower elevation counterparts. Despite their great conservation significance, little is known about patterns and drivers of spatial variation in shola plant communities and how the widespread conversion of surrounding grasslands to plantations has affected them.

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My primary research objective was to understand patterns of woody species distributions in shola communities at different spatial scales. At the regional scale I examined the distribution of shola fragments within shola-grassland mosaics. At the landscape scale I studied factors associated with variation in shola plant community composition. Elevation is strongly associated with the distribution and composition of shola fragments within the shola-grassland mosaic. Above 2,000 m, Shola-grassland landscape in Mukurthi National Park. the number of shola patches decrease (Photo: Arundhati Das) greatly in size and extent, and tend to occur on north-facing slopes. At the landscape-level, woody species composition within shola patches changes greatly between 1,900–2,100 m. In general, woody species show non-overlapping distributions along an elevation gradient, with high turnover and clumping of species’ range boundaries. Approximately 40% of variation in shola plant community composition can be explained by environmental factors. Seasonal temperature range and dry season rainfall are most influential, followed by the size of shola, surrounding land-use, and soil characteristics. Sholas surrounded by natural grassland differ significantly in terms of structure, composition, and regeneration levels from those located within tea and wattle plantations, indicating that land-use conversion has affected the structure and dynamics of shola vegetation. The results indicate that effective management of shola plant diversity would require conservation of these forests across the range of environmental conditions under which they occur. Given the importance of temperature and rainfall, one would expect major changes in community composition with climate change. Climatically driven compositional shifts should be most apparent in the transitional ecotone (1,900–2,100 m) between lower and upper elevation shola communities. Measuring and identifying shola trees inside a vegetation plot. (Photo: Arundhati Das)

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Wildlife and people in landscape fragments Paramesha Mallegowda Wildlife corridors are critical for the movement and long-term survival of species in an increasingly fragmented forest landscape. However, these migratory routes are increasingly threatened by human development, and growing conflict with wild animals. In addition, the ecological condition of these corridors are degrading. According to meta-population and meta-community theories, species are vulnerable to extinction from the loss of subpopulation connectedness, reduced dispersal capacity, and lower population viability. In my study, I looked at the ecological quality, and human-wildlife interactions, of sample corridors in Karnataka. Three wildlife corridors in Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple Tiger Reserve (BRT) connect the contiguous protected areas in dry tropical forests of South India. Presently these corridors and adjacent forest areas are under human pressure from collection of fuelCorridor sign board. (Photo: Paramesha Mallegowda) wood, livestock grazing, and frequent fires. These disturbances lead to other impacts on ecological condition by increasing the density of invasive species such as Lantana camara. We evaluated spatio-temporal use of the corridors and adjacent forests by large mammals with reference to habitat quality, human activities, and human-wildlife conflicts. Despite the declining quality of these corridors, my study reveals that (i) there are 18 mammal species using the corridors regularly; (ii) the causes of conflict are largely ecological but the consequences are social; (iii) functional corridors play a major role in the safe movement of wildlife and reduce conflicts; and (iv) people have adapted to the movement of these animals and provide them relatively safe passage, in spite of threats to their crops and livelihoods. The responses from various stakeholders in the landscape towards corridors and conflict indicates, that it is possible to achieve corridor restoration and conflict mitigation through active community participation. The updated and accurate change detection maps developed through this study will be used Focus group discussion with Soliga adivasis. to identify, restore, and manage (Photo: Paramesha Mallegowda) the degraded wildlife habitats. In particular, eco-restoration of wildlife corridors in BRT with native vegetation, control of Lantana camara spread, and reducing anthropogenic pressures in and around corridors should be prioritized as part of wildlife habitat improvement. BRT could be an appropriate area to demonstrate a â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;wildlife-human coexistence zone approachâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; following the participatory corridor management model to mitigate conflicts.

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Forest cover, hunting, and wildlife in community and state forests Rajkamal Goswami Previous comparative assessments of state and community managed forests were based on cases studied at separate sites, and were often based on disparate parameters. In my thesis, I adopted a multiple-criteria framework to measure changes in forest-habitat and animal-abundances, and their drivers, at nested scales across several state-managed reserve forests (RFs), and community-managed forests (CFs) of Jaintia Hills, Meghalaya. Forest-cover changes were analysed using Large scale monocultures of betel nut are replacing small remote sensing tools over 20 years (1994scale subsistence farming in the southern slopes of Jaintia 2 2014) across two RFs (~310 km ) and eight Hills, Meghalaya. (Photo: Rajkamal Goswami) CFs (~880 km 2). Hunting pressures were estimated using recall-based surveys in 15 villages across an RF (167 km 2) and two CFs (~ 400 km 2). Animal abundances were estimated through surveys carried out at 17 sites spread across the RF and CFs. The forest change analysis revealed that until 2003 forest-loss rates were low across both RFs and CFs, and driven largely by subsistence-scale shifting cultivation. However, between 2003 and 2014, dense forests of CFs were lost at the rate of 7 km 2 per year to cement industries and limestone mining, compared to the RFs (which were lost at the rate of 1.3 km 2 per year). The animal abundance analysis revealed that RFs had significantly higher abundance of animals compared to the CFs. Both the forest change and animal abundance results suggest that while CFs could cope fairly well with local demands such as animals for meat, and land for shifting cultivation, they were more vulnerable to pressures and threats driven by larger Wedge tailed green pigeons being sold along with vegetables socio-political and market forces, in comparison to the RFs. along a roadside shop. (Photo: Rajkamal Goswami)

pendent scholars to rethink contemporary approaches, at the same time that it anchors them in the relevant disciplinary literature. This produces scholars with the intellectual edge, and innovative ideas, who are motivated to address questions at the intersection of society, nature, and development.

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THE PROGRAMME The Academy anchors ATREEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s PhD program, which explicitly bridges the natural and social sciences in both teaching and research. The programme focuses on building capacities for critical thinking, and currently has an

enrolment of 52 students, mentored by 20 faculty, from the social and natural sciences. The students are encouraged, and provided opportunities, to ground their research in the field, using ATREE’s community-based conservation centers, and other field sites through ATREE’s partners across the country. While ATREE runs the doctoral programme, the degree is awarded by Manipal University. The PhD programme has so far graduated 12 students. It makes us proud that our first students have done well, and have joined research and academic positions in a diverse range of universities in India such as Azim Premji University, National Centre for Biological Sciences, Bangalore University, and Nalanda University. Support for the Academy, as seed money, came from Tata and Allied Trusts. The Sehgal Foundation, the Ford Foundation, and the Royal Norwegian Embassy, as well as other private donors, supplemented the initial grant from Tata and Allied Trusts.

INTEGRATING ACROSS DISCIPLINES The course work for the PhD programme aims to introduce students to a variety of disciplinary areas, with the understanding that a problem-centred enquiry requires a comprehensive approach, in which researchers are aware of a variety of perspectives and methods. While it may be the case that researchers are never going to be able to master a range of disciplines, a varied exposure ensures that they understand the limits of doing work within disciplines. Such an exposure and training also ensures that learning becomes a long-term effort, and one that is adapted to the problem that is being studied. Such an approach also ensures that students are open to incorporating ideas from other disciplines, depending on the problem being studied. The biggest barrier to doing interdisciplinary work is the ability to engage with the literature and the foundational concepts in other disciplines. The course work seeks to break

these barriers and make students comfortable with engaging with ideas and writing in other disciplines. The course work is spread over 3 semesters, and lays the groundwork for an interdisciplinary research approach. A set of required core courses introduces students to the fundamental concepts in natural and social sciences, research design and methods, and interdisciplinary research practice. The first semester consists of two courses in the social sciences: sociology and economics, and two courses in the natural sciences: ecology and environmental sciences. Each of these courses introduces students to approaches in these disciplines, and ends with a module that applies these basic concepts to environmental issues. The courses in the second semester are specifically aimed at helping students build an integrated perspective, and undertake an interdisciplinary research project. The courses draw on the fundamental concepts that were introduced in the first semester and expose students to interdisciplinary approaches and methods that attempt to cross disciplinary boundaries. After an initial set of lectures on integrated theoretical frameworks, students are exposed to full-length case studies in a variety of sectors such as forests, biodiversity, water, and livelihoods. Students also undertake detailed courses in social, natural, and quantitative methods. The third semester includes a diverse set of elective courses that reflect faculty expertise, and student interest. Elective courses include systematic biology, plant-animal interactions, landscape ecology, GIS and remote sensing, urban hydrology, gender and environment, invasive species, non-timber forest products, environmental anthropology, political ecology, and human-wildlife relations. These courses are pitched at an advanced level that strengthen specific areas of student interest and research focus. As is evident from the courses listed above, and the length of the teaching calendar, the PhD programme at ATREE relies heavily on 184

coursework to provide students a rubric for their research work. Students are encouraged to read in a variety of disciplines, as we believe that reading widely is the first step in breaking down disciplinary barriers. An additional feature of these courses is that many of these are team-taught. This encourages faculty to think through the design of the courses in a holistic manner. Faculty spend considerable time designing courses, offering them, and subsequently revising them based on student feedback.

STUDENT RESEARCH A transect through the topics that students choose to work on for their PhDs provides a much better sense of the nature of the programme than anything we could actually say about the programme itself. A sample of topics that students have chosen for study range from landscape dynamics, political ecology, socio-ecological systems, biodiversity assessment, urban ecology, historical and social hydrology, agrarian change, environmental movements, and economics of consumption. The geographic range of case studies are equally diverse: grasslands of western India, coastal zones, wetlands, rain forests, dry forests, urban gardens and lakes, cities, alpine meadows, riverine systems, and freshwater streams. The range of topics and landscapes reflects the breadth and the interdisciplinary nature of the programme. Here we offer a few examples of research by students who have graduated from ATREE (see boxes).

THE FUTURE The focus of the programme is to produce researchers, both students and faculty, who are able to think differently about how to address the environmental problems that confront us today. Writing on the role of social sciences in conservation, in the journal Oryx, William Adams says that while environmentalists have been encouraged to ‘think like the mountain’ 185

(to borrow Aldo Leopold’s famous phrase), which is to say that we have, with some success, made a strong case for wilderness, it is time to now learn to ‘think like a human’. Such multiple perspectives can only come from a dialogue of the disciplines. We fundamentally want to be such a learning institution, in that we would like students and faculty to continue to learn from each other, and from the wider knowledge keepers in society. We would like to continue to rethink the courses we teach, the structure of the programme, and the kind of research that students undertake. We would like to forge deeper, and real, connections between theory and action, and catalyse innovative collaborative research. We believe that such collective learning could break down conventional barriers between disciplines, and develop new ways of bridging them, in both our teaching and research. The main goal is to focus on establishing an academic culture that would cultivate rigour in our approaches, while remaining relevant and salient in our research. We hope, in some small way, to produce socially conscious and informed researchers, who are able to see that the roots of current environmental crisis are embedded in the very social, political, and economic fabric of our lives. Further Reading Adams, WM. 2007. Thinking like a human: social science and the two cultures problem. Oryx 41(3): 275–276. Lowe, P., G. Whitman, and J. Phillipson. 2009. Ecology and the social sciences. Journal of Applied Ecology 46(2): 297-305. Pretty, J., B. Adams, F. Berkes, S. Ferreira de Athayde, N. Dudley, E. Hunn, L. Maffi et al. 2009. The intersections of biological diversity and cultural diversity: towards integration. Conservation and Society 7(2): 100-112.

Author profiles Safia Aggarwal is at the UN Food and Agriculture Organization. She is interested in land

T. Ganesh is a Senior Fellow with the Landscape, Livelihood and Conservation programme.

and resource rights reforms, natural resource governance, climate change adaptation and mitigation, with particular emphasis on rights of women and marginalized groups.

His research interests span frugivore–fruit interactions, forest dynamics, and migration ecology of grassland birds.

Vidyadhar Atkore is a PhD student at ATREE. His broad research interest is on the con-

Rajkamal Goswami completed his PhD from ATREE in 2016. . He is currently a DST-

servation bio-geography of tropical freshwater fish communities.

SERB Post Doctoral Fellow at CEDAR, Dehradun. His research interests are in understanding the conservation ecology of human-forest interfaces, particularly on how governance and access regimes affect forests, wildlife, and their conservation.

Shrinivas Badiger is a Fellow with the Water, Land and Society Programme. His research interests are in the water sector; he uses systems approaches linking climate, agro-ecological, and socio-economic processes to understand the context of changing waterscapes within a larger framework of sustainable environments and human wellbeing.

Shwetha Basnett is a PhD student at ATREE. Her interests are in evolutionary ecology, and more specifically, in looking at the flowering phenology patterns and plant-pollinator interaction of Rhododendrons in the Sikkim Himalaya.

Kamal Bawa is Distinguished Professor of Biology at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, and President of ATREE. His research interests include the impact of land use and land cover change, climate change and human use of natural resources on biodiversity.

Durba Biswas is a Fellow with the Water, Land and Society Programme. Her research interests are in examining and exploring the gendered aspects of water and sanitation in India.

Pashupati Chaudhary works on climate change adaptation, climate-smart agriculture, agrobiodiversity conservation and food security in smallholder farming communities.

Arundhati Das obtained a PhD from ATREE in 2015. Her research interests are in landscape and community ecology, particularly in the application of spatial analytical tools to conservation. Deepthi Narasimhaiah was a Research Associate in the Land, Water and Livelihood programme. She is currently a Ph.D. student at Bangalore University studying riparian ecosystem services along the Cauvery river in Karnataka.

Soubadra Devy M. is a Fellow with the Ecosystem Services and Human Wellbeing programme. She is an ecologist who is interested particularly in plant-animal interactions, and also seeks to understand the consequences of changes in ecosystems on biodiversity and ecosystem services, using interdisciplinary approaches through collaborations with social scientists, both nationally and internationally.

R. Ganesan is a Fellow with the Biodiversity Monitoring and Conservation Planning programme. His research interests are in plant systematics and long-term monitoring of vegetation dynamics.

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Ankila J. Hiremath is a Fellow with the Landscapes, Livelihoods, and Conservation programme. She is interested in invasive species, fire, savannas, ecological restoration, and in social-ecological systems.

Priyanka Jamwal is a Fellow with the Water, Land and Society programme. Her research interests include the identification of contaminant sources in surface water bodies, modeling the fate and transport of contaminants in urban hydrological systems, and assessing the risk to human health due to exposure to contaminants.

Gladwin Joseph was the Director of ATREE until 2012, and now an Adjunct Honorary Fellow. He is currently Chief Project Officer at the Conservation Biology Institute in Corvallis, Oregon, US. His research interests include tree ecophysiology, and the interface between biodiversity and livelihoods. Seena Narayanan Karimbumkara is a Senior Research Associate at ATREE. She works on the taxonomy and ecology of Scarabaeine dung beetles and is interested in insect biosystematics. Nachiket Kelkar is a PhD student at ATREE. His research interests are in freshwater ecology, fisheries, and resource conflicts in the Gangetic basin.

Sarala Khaling is the Regional Director for ATREE’s Eastern Himalaya-Northeast Initiative. Her research interests include biodiversity and ecosystem services, and their interaction with human well-being.

Dharma Rajan Priyadarsanan is a Senior Fellow with the Biodiversity Monitoring and Conservation Planning programme. He studies insect biological systematics and ecology; and attempts to shift the conservation focus from the protection of a few charismatic taxato the conservation of habitat heterogeneity and ecosystem services.

Siddhartha Krishnan is a Fellow with the Ecosystems Services and Human Wellbeing programme. He is an environmental sociologist and historian with interests in pastoral landscapes, agrarian policy and practice, human-wildlife interactions, and environmental justice.

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Jagdish Krishnaswamy is a Senior Fellow with the Ecosystem Services and Human Well-being programme. He is interested in eco-hydrology, landscape ecology, and ecological flows.

Manish Kumar is a PhD student at ATREE. He is working on characterising the ecohydrology of Sikkim Himalaya under climate variability and change.

Sharachchandra Lele is a Senior Fellow affiliated to both the Forests and Governance programme as well as the Water, Land and Society programme. His interests are in conceptual issues in sustainability and sustainable development, ecological economics, environmental governance, and the methodology of interdisciplinary research.

Madegowda C. is a Programme Associate at ATREE. His research interests are in participatory resources monitoring, and sustainable harvest of NTFPs, community based conservation, forest rights, socio-economic and traditional knowledge of adivasis.

NA. Aravind Madhyastha is a Fellow with the Biodiversity Monitoring and Conservation Planning programme. His research interests are in freshwater ecology and conservation, taxonomy and biogeography of land and freshwater molluscs, and the use of social media for biodiversity research.

Paramesha Mallegowda completed his PhD at ATREE and is now a Program Associate at ATREE. His research interests are in corridor ecology, restoration ecology, understanding patterns and processes of human-wildlife conflict, and developing site-specific community-based conservation interventions.

Madhushree Munsi was, till very recently, a PhD student at ATREE. Her research interests are in the application of geospatial tools in ecology and conservation.

Tarun Nair is a Senior Research Associate with the Ecosystem Services and Human Well-being programme. His research interests are crocodiles and rivers. Sunita Pradhan is a Visiting Fellow with the Landscapes, Livelihoods and Conservation programme. Her interests are in human-wildlife interactions in human dominated landscape of the Eastern Himalaya.

G. Ravikanth is with the Biodiversity Monitoring and Conservation Planning programme. His research interests include conservation and population genetics, biogeography, DNA bar-coding, and species recovery of endangered plants.

Roshmi Rekha Sarma worked with ATREE as a Senior Research Fellow. Her research interests include invasion ecology, biogeography, species distribution, phylogeography and citizen science. Siddappa Setty is a Fellow with the Forest and Governance programme. His research interests are poverty alleviation in biodiversity rich areas through sustainable use of forest resources.

R. Uma Shaanker is a Founder Trustee, and an Honorary Senior Fellow at ATREE. He is also Professor and Head of Department of Crop Physiology, University of Agricultural Sciences, Bangalore. His research interests span a wide range including plant evolutionary biology, conservation biology, and more recently, bioprospecting bioresources.

Veena Srinivasan is a Fellow with the Water, Land and Society Programme. She aims to understand how human societies shape, and are shaped by, water resources, through quantitative measurements and modelling of coupled human-water systems. Through her research she aims to inform sustainable and equitable water management policy and practice.

Bharath Sundaram was a PhD student at ATREE, and is now on the faculty at Nalanda University, Rajgir, Bihar. His research interests include social-ecological systems, ecology of invasive species, and political ecology.

Bejoy K. Thomas is a Fellow with the Water, Land and Society programme. For his research he has looked at social and economic change in rural and peri-urban landscapes, with particular focus on land and water resources, multidimensional poverty, and participatory development. Abi Tamim Vanak is with the Landscapes, Livelihoods and Conservation Programme. His research interests are in animal movement ecology, disease ecology, and semi-arid savanna conservation.

Urbashi Pradhan is a PhD student at ATREE. Her interests include understanding the flow of ecosystem services in a dynamic landscape outside the protected area network, and its influence on socio-economic welfare of local communities in the Himalayas.

Anu Radhakrishnan is a Research Associate with the Biodiversity Monitoring and Conservation Planning programme. He deals with digital species databases and integrated taxonomy. His research interests include biological systematics and cognitive science. Nitin D. Rai is a Fellow with the Landscapes, Livelihoods and Conservation programme. He uses a political ecology approach to understand the implications of conservation policy and neoliberal practice for people and landscapes.

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Transcending boundaries

Celebrating 20 years of Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment

Transcending boundaries Reflecting on twenty years of action and research at ATREE

ATREE Head Office Royal Enclave, Srirampura, Jakkur Post, Bengaluru 560064 Karnataka, India T 91 80 23635555 | F 91 80 23530070 www.atree.org

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Edited by

Ankila J. Hiremath Nitin D. Rai Ananda Siddhartha