In the hills of Manipur’s Chandel district, forests are not protected by fences, armed guards, or exclusionary laws.
They survive because a community decided they should.
Among the Anal Naga tribe, two traditional systems — Uju and Rangkang — continue to shape how forests are governed, protected, and lived with.
Long before global conservation debates began speaking of coexistence, environmental justice, or community stewardship, these practices had already woven those principles into daily life.
At a time when the world is searching for new conservation models amid accelerating climate change and biodiversity loss, the Anal community’s approach offers something often missing from policy conversations: a system where forests are neither commodities nor wilderness emptied of people, but living spaces tied to memory, livelihood, spirituality, and collective responsibility.
What are Uju and Rangkang?
Uju refers to community-managed reserved forests located near Anal villages. These are protected collectively, usually under the supervision of village authorities and elders, who regulate how resources can be used.
Commercial logging is prohibited.
Trees cannot be cut without permission. Forest products such as mushrooms, herbs, wild vegetables, flowers, fruits, berries, and medicinal plants may be gathered carefully for household use, but extraction for profit is restricted.
Their forests are conserved not through eviction or militarised protection, but through customary laws, social accountability, and inherited ecological knowledge. Photograph: (Centre for Research and Advocacy, Manipur)
Rangkang, meanwhile, refers to untouched forest areas located deeper within jhum cultivation landscapes.
Unlike Uju, which is actively managed, Rangkang forests are left largely undisturbed. Over generations, communities have intentionally avoided cultivating these regions, allowing dense ecosystems to regenerate naturally.
Together, the two systems reveal a layered philosophy of conservation.
A forest governed by consensus
In Lambung village, one of the largest Anal settlements in Chandel district, Uju lies roughly 1.5 kilometres from residential areas. The forest is not privately owned — it belongs to the community.
Village authorities oversee its protection, but decisions are made collectively during annual assemblies attended by residents. Discussions range from land disputes and road repairs to forest regulations and jhum cultivation cycles.
The rules are strict.
Anyone caught cutting trees without approval faces fines of Rs 150 per tree, along with additional penalties based on the market value of timber, currently estimated at Rs 1,800 per cubic foot. Burning trees inside Uju is prohibited.
The purpose is continuity
The forests act as ecological buffers against flash floods, heatwaves, and wildfires. Streams flowing through these landscapes sustain drinking water sources for villages.
Springs such as Jophe Soo in Lambung continue to provide potable water for the community and have recently been recognised under the Jal Jeevan Mission for spring water conservation.
The relationship between people and forests here is deeply practical, but never purely economic.
Beyond the conservation fence
Across the world, conservation policy remains divided between two dominant ideas.
One argues for protected areas separated from human activity. The other advocates coexistence, where communities are central to conservation efforts.
Critics, however, have repeatedly warned that fortress-style conservation often displaces indigenous communities, while ignoring the fact that many ecosystems have survived precisely because local communities protected them for generations.
Cutting trees without approval in Uju can attract fines and timber-value penalties. Photograph: (E-Pao)
Their forests are conserved not through eviction or militarised protection, but through customary laws, social accountability, and inherited ecological knowledge. In many ways, Uju and Rangkang challenge the assumption that conservation must come from external expertise alone.
Forests as social worlds
In Vomku village, bordering Myanmar, Uju carries another layer of meaning.
Certain forest sections known as Sukom were historically considered sacred spaces where village priests communicated with spirits believed to influence illness, epidemics, and collective well-being.
Even today, elders describe Rangkang forests as spiritually inhabited landscapes where intertwined trees, springs, and streams are treated with reverence. Fear and respect became conservation tools long before environmental governance acquired formal terminology.
These beliefs may appear distant from modern policy language, yet they have historically functioned as mechanisms of ecological restraint.
The significance of these systems extends beyond Manipur.
Globally, indigenous-managed territories in countries such as Brazil, Canada, and Australia have repeatedly shown biodiversity levels equal to or higher than state-protected areas. Similar community-led forest systems exist among the Ifugao communities in the Philippines and tribal groups in Meghalaya and Arunachal Pradesh.
What distinguishes the Anal model is its balance between use and protection.
Conservation here is not frozen in time. It evolves with the needs of the community while maintaining ecological boundaries negotiated collectively — because it is built by communities who understand that survival depends on learning how to live with forests, not above them.
