To save the tiger, revamp the system

From the Editorial page of The Hindu, June 20, 2007
To save the tiger, revamp the system

Shekar Dattatri

SET UP BY THE BRITISH RAJ TO EXPLOIT VAST TIMBER RESOURCES, INDIA'S FOREST SERVICE NEEDS TO REINVENT ITSELF IF THE TIGER IS TO BE SAVED.

WHEN THE Prime Minister set up the Tiger Task Force two years ago, there were high hopes that sorely needed reforms would finally be initiated in the way our tiger reserves and other protected areas are managed. Unfortunately, there has been little action on the ground, and the fate of the tiger has become more precarious. Even so, it is not too late to save our national animal. What it requires is the discarding of old mindsets, and the ushering in of a new spirit of transparency and determination. India’s conservation record during the last decade has been appalling, and unless there are some fundamental reforms in the functioning of the Ministry of Environment and Forests in Delhi, and the Forest Departments in the States, it is hard to see how things can improve. It is time for these agencies to shed their autocratic style of functioning and take the people of the country into confidence.

From a biological standpoint, there is no reason for the Indian tiger to go extinct, for it is a species that can thrive in an extraordinary range of habitats — from the cool foothills of the Himalayas, to the hot and arid forests of Rajasthan; from the forested mountain slopes of the Western Ghats to the steamy mangroves of the Sunderbans. Add to this the other factor in the tiger’s favour: it’s a prolific breeder. A female can start breeding at the age of three and can raise several litters of three to four cubs in her lifetime. To save the species, all that we need to do is ensure protection of its habitat, and control the poaching of not just the tiger but also its prey. This should not be difficult, given that most of the important tiger habitats in India are already in the protected area network. The problem is that the missionary zeal with which Project Tiger was implemented in its early years has given way to complacency and indifference, both at the political and administrative levels. When India was hit by a surging demand for tiger skins, bones, and body parts from China and elsewhere, protection in all but a handful of tiger reserves had deteriorated to an extent where poachers could simply walk in, establish camps in the jungle, and systematically trap tigers. When confronted with evidence, the government machinery responded time and again with denial and dithering. Instead of coming down on poachers, officials invariably took the easier step of penalizing the messengers — scientists and NGOs — by withholding research permits and foisting false cases.

At the same time, tigers were conjured out of thin air using the notoriously unreliable pug mark method of counting the animals. Ignoring reliable scientific methods that have been developed, highly inflated figures were put out year after year, painting a patently false picture. It took the total extinction of tigers in Sariska for this charade to be widely exposed. The damage caused has been enormous, and it is now emerging that many more reserves may have lost most of their tigers. Had there been a better, more transparent system in place, corrective action could have been taken earlier. Sadly, few of those responsible have been taken to task, and most continue in their jobs with impunity.

To make matters worse for the tiger, a concept called eco-development emerged in the 1990s ostensibly to wean away villages exerting pressure on forests by providing them with socio-economic services. Funded by international agencies such as the World Bank, vast sums of money are pumped into ill-conceived schemes that produce little or no tangible benefit for the parks or the tigers. In fact, the opposite has been true in many cases, where these ‘lucrative’ projects have diverted the attention of park managers away from their primary job of wildlife protection, leaving the field wide open to poachers. Under these schemes, the very park managers who should be resisting unnecessary development in the wilderness are put in charge of, and encouraged to go on, development sprees that have nothing ‘eco’ about them. The result has often been new roads that fragment fragile habitats, new rest houses where none are needed, and the haphazard distribution of sops to outlying villages. Meanwhile, the ‘jawans’ of the forest, the humble but crucially important forest guards, continue to languish without adequate facilities and pay. Despite the huge sums of money available under eco-development budgets, only a very small percentage is actually allocated to protection, equipment, and staff welfare. It often still falls to NGOs to provide succor to the guards, in the form of uniforms, boots, wireless equipment, and even insurance.

Today, except in a handful of reserves, our protection system is in tatters. Thousands of posts of forest guard remain vacant in all the States, leaving our treasure troves of biodiversity open round the clock to looters. Most of the guards are in their Fifties, and lack the stamina required for this tough job. Compounding this is a huge crisis of leadership. Barring some exceptions, most forest officers have no expertise in anti-poaching operations and little inclination to lead their men in the field. The poachers, on the other hand, have become ever more organized and sophisticated, operating with code names, communicating with cell phones, and retaining top lawyers for their defense.

If some parks still hold tigers in good numbers, it is because of protection systems that were established and institutionalized by visionary officers in the past, and continued by a few dedicated individuals. These officers too usually have a frustrating time, trapped in a system that offers little encouragement or support to those who toil with sincerity. As a ‘reward’ for their exemplary service, they can expect to be shunted to some useless post during the next round of transfers and, often, have all their good work undone by an indifferent successor.

The way forward

In this era of increasing pressures of every kind, a few dedicated officers here and there are not enough to stem the rot that has set in over decades. To save what is left, we need a radical revamp of the old system, starting with a separate ‘Wildlife Cadre,’ which only recruits those who want to work for the cause of conservation. For decades we have had an unfortunate system where officials are randomly reshuffled across disciplines, commonly resulting in situations where an officer who has expertise primarily in raising eucalyptus plantations is posted as warden at a wildlife sanctuary or vice versa. And, forest guards are rarely recruited from forest-dwelling communities who know the terrain intimately. In fact, they are actively filtered out through archaic rules that stipulate certain educational qualifications or height requirements for the job. Most damaging of all is the very attitude of the Forest Service, which is that of a feudal landlord. Barring a few enlightened individuals within the system, the culture of the Service is to treat citizens as either supplicants or irritants. Independent scientists or dedicated conservation organisations that have developed an expertise in various aspects of conservation are rarely consulted while drawing up management plans of sanctuaries and tiger reserves, and their access to the forests is tightly controlled.

While many government departments have reinvented themselves during the last few years, the Ministry of Environment and Forests in Delhi and the Forest Departments of the States remain deeply entrenched in an authoritarian mindset, and are distrusted by virtually all sections of society that have to deal with them. It is imperative that senior officers wake up to this reality and give their institutions a much-needed makeover. It is not only the fate of tiger that they hold in their hands, but the ecological health of the entire nation. This is a sacred responsibility that must be discharged with great diligence.

Given the urgency of our present situation, we cannot afford to leave matters as they are. India’s incredible forest and wildlife wealth deserves to be managed by progressive and well-trained professionals who truly care. Our protection systems must be revitalized, and funds that are at present squandered away on needless ‘developmental’ activities must be re-allocated to where it really counts.

Saving the tiger is not merely about saving a charismatic national icon. The tiger is the lynchpin that holds the ecological apple cart of the country together. If we allow it to go extinct, it will be the beginning of the end for our entire wild heritage, in addition to our water and food security. The tiger and its habitat received a fresh lease of life when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi established Project Tiger more than 30 years ago. Today, conservation needs another shot in the arm from Prime Minister Manmohan Singh.

(The writer is a wildlife filmmaker and conservationist.)

Tiger! Tiger!

Watchtower Vigil

There is something really special about seeing a wild tiger in broad daylight, that too in south India, where they tend to be very secretive. On 16th January, renowned tiger biologist Dr.Ullas Karanth, G.Ananthakrishnan from The Hindu and I decided to spend the afternoon in a watchtower in Karnataka’s Nagarahole National Park. It was 3.00 in the afternoon and, as we took our places, there was a small herd of chital at a salt lick nearby. After about half an hour of licking the soil, they started drifting away and a couple of gray langurs arrived with two small playful babies. It was entertaining to watch the young ones rolling around on the soft earth and pouncing on one another.

A few minutes past 4.00 there was an urgent whisper from Ullas, Tiger! Tiger! Looking in the direction he indicated we saw an adult male tiger ambling towards us on a game trail in the middle of a wide ‘view line’. On catching some scent on the ground, the tiger sniffed at it for a moment or two and made the facial gesture known as ‘flehmen’, which is basically a curling of the upper lip in response to a particular scent (such as traces of the urine of another tiger). The tiger then continued his walk towards the tower, on his massive, padded feet. The evening sun glinted off his orange coat as we watched in spellbound admiration. While I decided to just enjoy watching the tiger through my binoculars, I could hear Anant’s Nikon clicking away behind me. The tiger was getting closer by the second and I was quite sure that, with a 80-400 Nikkor lens on his digital SLR, Anant was getting great pictures.

It wasn’t until the tiger was about 50 m away that the langurs on a nearby tree spotted him. Suddenly, the air was rent with their harsh alarm calls. The tiger looked towards the tree once and then ambled forward. A few metres more, and he stopped and looked at our shapes in the watchtower. Perhaps he had caught a small movement from one of us, or perhaps he was naturally wary of the tower, having seen people in it before. He stood stock-still and stared at us for a few seconds and then, without haste or panic, he turned and disappeared into the vegetation by the side of the view line. A few minutes later, alarm calls of chital (spotted deer) indicated the way he was moving. The alarms were taken up by other chital, and through their sounds we could ‘follow’ the tiger's movements for another 10 minutes.

Altogether, the sighting lasted no more than 3 minutes, but it’s been playing in my mind ever since. It’s not an image you can easily forget, but then, why would you want to?!

Book Release

Photo by: M.Shivakumar

Riddle of the Ridley got off to a good start tonight with a well attended launch at the Odyssey book store in Adyar, Chennai. I gave a 20 minute slide show about the ridley saga and then handed over the 'first copy' of the book to Arun from the KFI School, the 'pied piper' of Chennai's 'turtle walkers'. He then spoke about how people could participate in these walks during the turtle nesting season (from December to March), by joining him and his team every Friday and Saturday night at the Neelankarai beach off the East Coast Road. The walk begins at midnight and ends at the hatchery in Besant Nagar beach around 4.00 a.m.

After reburying any eggs that they may collected that night in the hatchery, the walkers go home to get some sleep. Turtle walks have been a feature of Chennai for over 30 years. For a couple of decades now, they have been taking place under the aegis of the Students' Sea Turtle Conservation Network (SSTCN). Over the years many participants in these turtle walks have gone on to take up careers in wildlife biology or conservation.

Wildlife books for children

Tulika Books (www.tulikabooks.com) have just brought out my first two childrens' books. The first, Riddle of the Ridley is the saga of the olive ridley sea turtles that nest on the Indian coast. The olive ridley is the smallest of the seven species of sea turtles that exist today. Every year, an indeterminate number, perhaps exceeding two hundred thousand, migrate from the Indian Ocean south of Sri Lanka to the off-shore waters of Orissa on India's east coast. Here they climb ashore enmasse to lay their eggs on two or three select beaches. This mass nesting phenomenon is referred to as an ‘arribada’, a Spanish word meaning 'the arrival'. Sadly, during the last 15 years, tens of thousands of these gentle reptiles have drowned in the nets of mechanized fishing boats. Riddle of the Ridley chronicles the fascinating life history of these mysterious creatures, delves into the problems that confront them, and offers some solutions for their conservation. The book contains several unique photographs, and includes pictures by Bivash Pandav and Belinda Wright. Modestly priced, the books are available in English and several Indian languages.

The other book, titled Lai Lai the Baby Elephant is for younger children and has one photograph per page with one line of text. This is part of Tulika’s bilingual series and the text is also in Indian languages (English-Hindi; English-Kannada; English-Bengali etc.)

Scorpio woes - Public Response

In the 24 hours since I posted my last 'Scorpio woes' piece, this blog has received over 300 hits, and I think that's just great! Thank you! Given the generally uncaring attitude of Indian manufacturers, and the time it takes to get relief from the Consumer Court, the net is such a fantastic way of spreading the word around. A few more hundred hits, and perhaps Mahindra will sit up and take notice!

Scorpio woes - Major worry

One thing that really makes me uneasy about the Scorpio is that the vehicle is almost entirely controlled by electronics and sensors. I'm not quite sure how robust these are. If a sensor blows when one is deep in the jungle and mired in slush, it could mean an awful lot of trouble.

In the Scorpio ad on TV you see a vehicle buried under a snowdrift, and then this sexy babe appears in an helicopter (presumably from Customer Service) and clears away the snow with her rotors. Now, if only we could all get this kind of service....

Scorpio woes - The Verdict

So, a month on, what do I feel about the Scorpio? Well, teething problems and initial hiccups apart, my main grouse with Mahindra is that it appears as though most of the design effort has gone into how everything looks rather than on functionality, durability or reliability. Take the steering wheel for instance. It is very thick! In fact, it’s the thickest steering wheel of any vehicle I have ever driven, and I have driven quite a few, including Pajeros, Land Cruisers and Nissans. Even worse, the material with which the wheel is made is incredibly slippery. When you have the air conditioner going and your palms are dry, the extra thickness of the steering wheel, combined with its slippery surface, makes an unsafe combination. It’s downright irritating when negotiating city back streets and, I suspect, it could be deadly on a narrow and winding ghat road. Why did Mahindra make a steering wheel that goes against the norm? My guess is that they decided that a chunky looking vehicle should have a chunky looking steering wheel!

My other grouses are, in random order, as follows:

If you bend down and look under the vehicle from the front, you will see a guard similar to that seen in many other SUVs. Now, this is supposed to protect the front part of your under-chassis from boulders and bumps during off road driving. Only, in the Scorpio, this guard is not made out of strong metal, but of the most flimsy plastic. It’s laughable. I don’t expect it to last long where I’m going to be driving.

If you’re slightly on the heavier side, don’t stand on the rear bumper/footrest; it’s likely to break away – again flimsy plastic. So, if you want to clean the top of your vehicle, you will have to carry around a small stepladder or stool!

While you’re at the back, bend down and look underneath the rear-wheel arch. You will find a gap in the cladding. When you go through slush (or worse), the stuff that is thrown up by the wheels encrusts itself in your door and makes a sorry (and sometimes smelly) mess. The designers probably didn’t expect anyone to look too closely at their handiwork, but then you don’t really need x-ray vision to spot this.

The speaker ports in the cabin are a joke. They don’t accommodate any decent, standard size speakers. So learn to enjoy tinny music from small speakers.

The rubber through which the handbrake juts out is crude and already fraying.

The doors! Yes, make sure you tell everyone who climbs in and out of your car to treat them like they are made of glass. For God’s sake, don’t let anyone slam the doors! They are really lightweight. In fact, they feel far more delicate than those on a Maruti 800.

And of course there’s a substantial gap in the doors where they meet the body. Don’t look for a Qualis or Innova like seal.

The Air Con vents are ridiculous and I haven’t been able to adjust them to my satisfaction. Either the cold air is blowing right on you (very uncomfortable) or you have to turn the vent away from you (and on to the glass, which will fog up, or towards another passenger, who is hopefully wearing a fleece jacket). There is very little up and down movement possible. You have to live with side-to-side adjustments and hope for the best. Again, M&M have gone in for fancy looks rather than functionality.

The gearshift is a far cry from the one in the Qualis, but hey, that would be asking for too much.

There are all kinds of creaks and crackles emanating from within the cabin, which can serve to divert your attention from any (possibly serious) creaks and crackles that may emanate from outside the vehicle.

Now, this is not really an exhaustive list and not really a final verdict. I’ve only had the vehicle for a month, during most of which I have been preoccupied with major problems. I’ll be sure to post more comments when I’ve done my first road trip.

Do I have anything good to say at all? Well, the Scorpio does have some things going for it. The engine is quite refined and responsive. There is enough leg space (one of the few drawbacks with the Qualis), and the seats (at least the ones in front that I’ve tried) are comfortable, especially with some extra padding added by the seat covers. But is this going to be a reliable car that can take the rough with the smooth, or is this strictly a city slicker’s SUV, not meant for even semi-serious off-roading? I shall find out soon enough, I expect. I do miss my Qualis though. During the six years that I had it, I put it through some rough terrain that it wasn’t even meant for. Yet it did not break down even once. The car performed just as beautifully the day I sold it as on the day when I first turned on the ignition switch. Now, that’s what I call a great car. Mahindra engineers should take one apart and study it closely.