In the last few months I’ve gotten it in my head that the elephant is a sacred animal, and I have no idea why. Sacred in what way, and why would it be more sacred than any other species? No idea, but I can’t shake this feeling of reverence for an animal I’ve never myself encountered, at least, not in adulthood.
There are the African elephants, the largest of all, and the Indian elephants, employed historically in both ceremony and war. And in Indonesia, on the island of Sumatra, there roams the rarest of them all.
The Sumatran elephant is a fantastic creature, standing three metres tall and weighing 4.5 tonnes.
Genetically distinct from elephants elsewhere on the globe, these island giants number as many as 4,800 individuals across 44 herds, or rather, they did in 1985. But circumstances have changed and any sacredness these elephants might have processed proved no match for the march of industry.
In recent decades, Sumatra has suffered one of the swiftest deforestations on the planet, so that by 2011 a full 69 per cent of elephant habitat had been consumed by human settlement and expanding palm oil plantations.
In that same time, their population has been halved, earning them the status of “critically endangered.” Of the aforementioned 44 herds, only 21 remain, several too small or with too little habitat to be viable in the long term.
These elephants, thus separated and squeezed, have been struggling to feed themselves, wandering onto lands once theirs and instead of finding food, they find the hostility of human beings. These are tremendously large animals and the forceful removal of obstacles is in their nature, so where our species and theirs come into conflict there has been destruction of property and even loss of life, on both sides.
More recently, as the plight of this species became internationally apparent, some progress has been made. In 2004, the Tesso Nilo National Park was established for the sake of these elephants, one of the few forests still large enough to support them; as well, rangers have been recruited to ride atop tamed elephants and herd wild ones away from human settlement.
It’s better that they’re corralled than shot, I suppose, but I find these solutions unsatisfying.
Recently I was asked what is means to preserve a species. Is it to restore them to their previous population size and range, or to keep some alive in isolated pockets for show? I lean toward the former, knowing as I do that confined populations tend to stagnate over time, but also because this corralling offends my sense of justice.
In the case of the elephant, it feels closer to sacrilege. Urbanization and the palm oil industry both have lain forceful claim to the majority of elephant habitat nearly without opposition, except from the elephants themselves, who are routinely stoned and shot unless rangers can shoo them away.
In the long term it’s been recommended by the World Wildlife Fund that reforestation be undertaken en masse so these elephants can reclaim old stomping grounds, lest they face extinction. Personally, I can’t see any other solution.
We’ve witnessed this time and again in this column, the corralling fate of endangered species and the complete disrespect with which we treat their old habitats, as though they were conquered lands. Legal protection for these species is of course critical, but laws are enacted and enforced by human beings.
Without respect for the animals in question, these laws can amount to very little.
About six months ago I spoke to a woman from Europe and told her that respect for a species, an ecosystem or a planet is every bit as important as the legal protections we bestow upon them.
I still think so.
Respect rallies people, encourages donations for conservation efforts and allows for laws in the first place. Respect ensures the spirit of those laws are enforced, not just their fine print. And when that respect is powerful, profound or manifest for a species in particular, we call that animal sacred.
As the Sumatran elephant continues its rapid decline and our conservation here and abroad tends toward corralling, we shouldn’t underestimate the power of respect or lack thereof in deciding extinctions.
Consider our treatment of the Canadian goose, an animal commonplace in the towns of my upbringing, so much so they would completely cover waterways and restrict our movements with their assaults on our person should we come too close to their young.
They could be a nuisance, but mostly they were beautiful and they’re as close to a sacred animal as we have here in Canada.
The word “sacred” feels very old fashioned to me and the feeling itself seems to come from nowhere, but I’m convinced it’s a force for good.
http://thechronicleherald.ca/