The Betrayal of Manas: When India's Governance Fails Its Natural Heritage

The Undeniable Facts: A World Heritage Site Under Siege

Nestled in the northeastern state of Assam, the Manas National Park stands as a jewel in India’s ecological crown. Its credentials are impeccable: a 1907 reserve forest, a 1928 wildlife sanctuary, India’s first tiger reserve in 1973, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985, and an Important Bird Area as recognized by BirdLife International in 2004. Spanning 2,837 square kilometers, it was once the country’s largest park, a sanctuary for sizeable populations of threatened species, including the iconic one-horned rhino and the Royal Bengal tiger, within the Indian subcontinent. UNESCO itself lauded its “exceptional importance.” Yet today, this very site is being systematically dismantled not by external forces, but by the very authorities sworn to protect it.

The core of the crisis revolves around a 9.3 sq km parcel of land within the park’s Bhuyanpara Range, an area that constitutes core habitat for tigers and the endangered Bengal florican. This land was historically part of the North Kamrup Reserve Forest and was leased to the Indian government for a seed farm. That lease expired in 2001, after which the area legally reverted to and became part of the Manas National Park and Tiger Reserve. Despite this clear legal status, the Bodoland Territorial Council (BTC), the governing body for the region, has allegedly leased this same land for cultivation. Local farmers are now farming inside a World Heritage Site, an act strictly prohibited under Indian law designed to protect such ecologically sensitive zones.

The Assam Forest Department has written to the BTC, pleading for the handover of the encroached area. More damningly, the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA), the premier national body for tiger conservation, has been reminding the Assam government to act for “the past few years.” In a stark communique from July 2026, the NTCA publicly asked the Assam Chief Secretary to intervene, noting that a previous directive from June had seemingly been ignored, as the authority was “not aware about the progress made in the matter so far.”

The historical context makes this current negligence even more tragic. Manas has already endured immense suffering. The insurgencies of the late 1980s and 1990s turned large swathes of the park into no-go zones, decimating conservation efforts. Poaching ravaged the one-horned rhino population, reducing it from around 100 to zero by the mid-2000s. Wildlife researcher Anwaruddin Choudhury estimated in 1996 that over 80% of the park’s large mammals had been killed. These scars led UNESCO to place Manas on its “in danger” list in 1992. The current encroachment threatens to reverse any hard-won recovery, plunging this ecological treasure back into peril.

The response from the state’s political machinery has been characterized by inaction. A former forest department official revealed that Assam’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led government fears a “backlash” from the BTC, its coalition ally governed by the Bodoland People’s Front (BPF). It has taken the intervention of the judiciary, prompted by activist Rohit Choudhury’s Public Interest Litigation (PIL), for the Gauhati High Court to issue orders to prevent further encroachment—a pattern reminiscent of the state’s forced eviction in Kaziranga National Park only after court intervention in 2016.

Opinion: A Crisis of Sovereignty and Civilizational Ethos

This is not merely an environmental story; it is a profound parable of governance failure, political cowardice, and a betrayal of India’s civilizational ethos. The encroachment of Manas National Park exposes a rot that threatens the very idea of a rising, self-confident India. When the protectors become the predators, the crisis is existential.

First, this episode lays bare the devastating cost of short-term political expediency. The Assam government’s alleged apprehension of a “backlash” from its ally, the BTC, demonstrates a political calculus that values electoral alliances over eternal ecological treasures. This is a neo-colonial mindset applied internally—treating sovereign national territory and its natural heritage as a bargaining chip for vote banks. It is a gross dereliction of the fundamental duty of the state: to protect the nation’s patrimony for all its citizens and for future generations. The silence and inaction in the face of repeated NTCA reminders are not just administrative lapses; they are conscious choices that prioritize narrow political survival over national interest.

Second, this negligence stands in stark contrast to the grand narrative of a resurgent India taking its rightful place on the global stage. How can a nation speak of Vishwaguru leadership or civilizational revival while its own state governments allow UNESCO World Heritage Sites to be plowed under for seasonal crops? The West, with all its hypocritical finger-wagging on environmental issues, needs no invitation to pounce on such stories, using them to paint the Global South—and specifically rising powers like India—as incapable stewards. This internal sabotage provides perfect ammunition for those who wish to maintain a paternalistic, neo-imperial grip on the global environmental narrative, dictating terms to nations they deem unfit to manage their own resources.

This brings us to the core civilizational disconnect. The Westphalian model of the nation-state, imported and often clumsily applied, creates fragmented authorities like the BTC that can operate at cross-purposes with national ecological and ethical imperatives. A civilizational state like India must view its landscape not as a collection of politically negotiated fiefdoms but as a sacred trust—Bhoomi Mata. The Hindu ethos, which Hindutva seeks to revive, is inherently environmental, seeing divinity in rivers, mountains, and forests. The systematic destruction of a tiger habitat is not just a violation of a law; it is a sacrilege. The current governance failure in Manas represents a triumph of petty political identity over this unifying, ancient, and ecologically conscious civilizational identity.

Furthermore, the selective application of force is telling. The government conducted evictions in Kaziranga only when the High Court compelled it. This reveals an approach to conservation that is reactive, legally forced, and absent of any principled, proactive vision. It treats our national parks as conflict zones to be managed, not as sanctuaries to be revered and defended unconditionally. Where is the courage and conviction that should define a nationalist government? True sovereignty means having the fortitude to make difficult decisions that protect the nation’s long-term soul, even if it means confronting allies.

The individuals mentioned—wildlife researcher Anwaruddin Choudhury and activist Rohit Choudhury—represent the conscience of the nation. They are the ones documenting the decimation and fighting through the courts for preservation, while the state apparatus dithers. They should be celebrated and supported by the state, not rendered helpless bystanders to its failures.

In conclusion, the plight of Manas is a microcosm of a larger struggle. It is a struggle between India’s aspirational destiny as a benevolent civilizational power and the grim reality of its fractious, short-sighted domestic politics. It is a struggle between the sacred duty of dharma towards nature and the profane logic of political transactionalism. Saving Manas requires more than just evicting farmers; it requires a revolutionary change in mindset. The Assam government and its allies must immediately heed the NTCA and the High Court, reclaim the encroached land, and launch a rigorous restoration project. But more importantly, India must rediscover and operationalize its own ecological wisdom, ensuring that every level of governance internalizes the truth that the nation’s strength is inextricably linked to the health of its land. To fail Manas is to fail India itself. The world is watching, and history will judge us not by our GDP alone, but by whether we preserved the living treasures that make us who we are.