“Goa’s insistence that it lacks a resident tiger population ignores the basic function of a reserve. Corridors matter as much as breeding grounds. The forests of Mhadei, Netravali and Cotigao form a natural link between the tiger landscapes of Karnataka and Maharashtra. Tigers do not recognise state borders. They disperse through connected forests, and if those forests are poorly protected, young tigers face the gauntlet of poaching, conflict and habitat fragmentation. Dismissing the need for a reserve merely because the population is transient reflects a narrow, outdated approach to conservation.
The argument about displacement demands careful scrutiny. Successive administrations have warned that thousands of people would be affected. Yet independent assessments suggest that very few families live in the areas proposed for the core zone.”
The Supreme Court’s empowered committee has given Goa three months to begin notifying a tiger reserve. This is not a symbolic reminder. It is a direct indictment of years of hesitation and political hedging that have left one of the state’s most vital forest corridors vulnerable to steady degradation. The warning is clear. Either Goa takes its ecological responsibilities seriously or it risks being remembered as the state that allowed its last chance at meaningful conservation to slip away.
The debate over a tiger reserve in Goa has dragged on for more than a decade. Each time the issue gains momentum, the state government raises a new objection. It has questioned tiger numbers, the feasibility of land availability and the potential fallout for villagers. None of these concerns are illegitimate on their own, but they have become convenient pretexts for delay. What stands out is not a thoughtful reconsideration of conservation strategy but a pattern of resistance.
Goa’s insistence that it lacks a resident tiger population ignores the basic function of a reserve. Corridors matter as much as breeding grounds. The forests of Mhadei, Netravali and Cotigao form a natural link between the tiger landscapes of Karnataka and Maharashtra. Tigers do not recognise state borders. They disperse through connected forests, and if those forests are poorly protected, young tigers face the gauntlet of poaching, conflict and habitat fragmentation. Dismissing the need for a reserve merely because the population is transient reflects a narrow, outdated approach to conservation.
The argument about displacement demands careful scrutiny. Successive administrations have warned that thousands of people would be affected. Yet independent assessments suggest that very few families live in the areas proposed for the core zone. The state’s inflated numbers appear designed to provoke fear rather than reflect ground realities. Communities deserve honesty, not exaggerated threats that frame conservation as an enemy of livelihood.
The missing government file on the earlier tiger reserve proposal only deepens the suspicion of institutional reluctance. How does an official document outlining ecological boundaries and recommendations simply vanish? Even if the disappearance is a product of negligence rather than intent, it exposes a troubling lack of seriousness in handling an issue that affects both biodiversity and law.
Goa’s political class often speaks of development as though it must compete with conservation. This false choice has repeatedly stalled environmental decisions. Protecting a tiger corridor does not shut the door on economic activity. It demands regulation, planning and the willingness to accept that long term ecological integrity cannot be traded for short term commercial gains. If anything, Goa has the potential to build a model where conservation and community centred ecotourism work together. But that vision requires leadership, not excuses.
The Supreme Court’s committee has now given the state a finite window. Three months may feel abrupt, but the order comes after years of gentle nudging, court observations and expert recommendations. The fact that the apex court had to freeze development activities in the proposed reserve area earlier this year shows just how far the situation had deteriorated. When a state refuses to act, the judiciary steps in. It is not ideal, but it is sometimes necessary.
Goa has an opportunity to turn this confrontation into renewal. Demarcating the reserve clearly, ensuring legal recognition of community rights, strengthening forest management and engaging villagers openly can create a framework that benefits all stakeholders. The question is whether the political will exists.
The clock is ticking. If Goa continues to procrastinate, it risks more than another court order. It risks losing a critical forest belt that supports wildlife, livelihoods and the state’s identity. Tigers are only the most visible symbol of this ecosystem. The real battle is for the health of the Western Ghats.
The choice before Goa’s leaders is stark. They can either move with purpose or allow this final deadline to pass, taking with it a piece of the state’s ecological soulf.
