By Anna Notsu
Today, conservation, regardless of its form, is and should be in everyone’s interest. With the escalating threats to ecosystems worldwide, conservation has become a necessity in response to ongoing processes of degradation, decay and loss. Traditionally, the word ‘conservation’ has been synonymous with environmental management or, at best, nature protection. Yet, what ‘nature’ refers to is so far rarely scrutinised. Conservation too often assumes what needs to be sustained and how a future should look, based on pre-determined ideals of a productive society – economically and ecologically. This assumption is precisely what I want to question. At what point is conservation deemed successful? What exactly do we value? And who constitutes the ‘we’?
Meghalaya is known for its abundance of sacred groves. This already shows that the value of ‘nature’ extends far beyond biodiversity. Here, ‘nature’ encompasses more than material resources, including nonhuman entities, like deities. Many hill sites double as jhum farms, reflecting a landscape shaped not only by ecological but also by human and spiritual interactions. Mountains, fields and water sources cannot be viewed merely in terms of ecological qualities. Human activities and spiritual engagements are deeply embedded in the making of these landscapes. In a way, the future of Meghalaya has always already been in the hands of its inhabitants, both human and nonhuman. This indicates that perhaps, the success of conservation hinges on a much broader understanding of human-nature relations. The cultural aspects of ‘nature’ – including communal land governance, religious perspectives and the roles of spiritual beings – highlight the need for recognising an intricate entanglement of human, spiritual and ecological dimensions.
In the Jaintia Hills, where my focus lies, the term community-led conservation has gained prominence amid growing concerns over climate change, mono-crop farming and resource extraction. While such conservation initiatives are essential, the concept of ‘community’ is quite far from straightforward. As I immerse myself in Meghalaya’s undulating hills, I have observed a remarkable diversity of beliefs, perspectives and practices, raising questions about what defines a ‘community’, especially in terms of conservation. This diversity is not simply about ethnic or cultural backgrounds, but also how people relate to one another and to the essence of ‘nature’ that matters to them. Generations of knowledge, religious beliefs and daily practices can influence this relatedness. Conservation, then, must account for such diversity. A community becomes a crucial element in conservation because future pathways rely much on what binds people together in their actions, whether destructive or recuperative.
It was December 2023 when I first set foot in Meghalaya. Squeezed into a shared taxi from Guwahati Airport, I felt the temperature drop as the car crossed into the state from Assam, my sweat-patched T-shirt growing chilly by the time I reached Shillong. During my two-week stay, I was struck by the vibrancy of Shillong and the great warmth of the people who welcomed me into their homes. From one contact to another, from their colleagues to in-laws, I followed a relational web of connections, building lasting relationships with those who opened their lives to me.
A Khasi friend once messaged me, “I told my schoolteacher about you, and she is very excited to meet you, also because she is concerned for your wellbeing and safety. This kind of compassion and welfare check is what makes Meghalaya so special.” This community spirit is evident in various interactions, reflecting deeply ingrained social values. In Meghalaya, interconnectedness is not merely a concept tied to clan organisation or familial ties; it is a lived experience.
Enchanted by the sincerity of the people and the familiar charm of the scrumptious meals, landscapes and cultural practices, I have returned for a third time – this time as a PhD researcher in anthropology, as part of the five-year project: ‘Futuring Heritage: Conservation, Community and Contestation in the Eastern Himalayas’. This project examines conservation initiatives aimed at protecting forests, rivers and wildlife that hold cultural and environmental significance in the Eastern Himalayas. My research focuses on the Jaintia Hills and investigates how conservation narratives are shaped by relationships and social structures. Who participates or is excluded in sustaining value, and where people find meaning, are central to understanding conservation efforts in the region.
Environmental issues are interpreted differently by various ‘communities.’ For example, when a river in Meghalaya turned orange, some attributed it to an algae reaction, others saw it as a sign of divine anger, while some deemed it a temporary phenomenon to be eventually resolved by rainfall. Actions such as building houses along riverbanks, continuing resource extraction, performing rites and prayers for environmental healing, or creating fish sanctuaries all revolve around relationships – whether with deities, families, clans, localities, institutions or future generations.
Inspired by my own experiences in Meghalaya, my research seeks to broaden the narrative of conservation by highlighting diverse ways of relating to ‘nature.’ What does Jaintia’s environmentalism look like if everyday practices of healing and negotiations with deities are placed in dialogue with emerging conservation initiatives? As issues like deforestation sound alarm urgently, it is high time to shift the current trajectory by more closely engaging with the perspectives of those – both human and nonhuman – that partake in processes of future-making.
For many, conservation is about having proper governance based on environmental science. Numerical value calculations are seen as the key to protecting threatened species and resources. When I landed in Delhi in December, looking at my PhD student visa, the immigration officer had only one question: ‘Madam, why must anthropologists such as yourself research environmental concerns like climate change and deforestation? Aren’t anthropologists interested in cultural heritage?’ My answer to this question forms the backbone of my anthropological engagement with ‘nature,’ where the boundaries between the natural and cultural worlds are crossed through everyday practices, beliefs, stories, dreams and also interactions with non-human others.
I hope that my research can contribute to new approaches for addressing Meghalaya’s environmental challenges, often framed in terms of livelihood development. My work focuses on illuminating the heritage values and cultural practices embedded in everyday lives that have long shaped the unique human-nature dynamics in Meghalaya. In so doing, I aim to initiate a more nuanced and hopeful dialogue. This dialogue may acknowledge diverse and contingent connections between (and among) people and ‘nature’, fostering conservation efforts that are culturally sensitive and inclusive. Without considering cultural mechanisms of value attribution, conservation may risk becoming inefficient and disconnected from the very ‘communities’ it seeks to benefit.
(The author is a PhD scholar from Leiden University, The Netherlands currently doing research in Jaintia Hills)