Looking at invasives beyond the ecological lens [Commentary]

For centuries, plants and animals have been translocated from their native lands and introduced elsewhere by humans — sometimes for ornamentation, sometimes to change the nature of unfamiliar ecosystems in their favour. Subsequently, some species became invasive, spreading uncontrollably, disrupting biodiversity and altering essential ecosystem processes. The dominant conservation narrative has long been to eradicate invasive species entirely. More recently, a debate has emerged, calling for these species to be viewed not only through an ecological lens but also in the context of how they impact the lives and livelihoods of human communities.

Today, over 4,300 species are classified as invasive with biological invasion ranking among the most urgent conservation concerns of our time. Yet their management remains a persistent challenge. A rich body of literature describes how these species drive extinctions, diminish biodiversity, and erode ecological resilience in the face of climate change. While some studies explore the possible benefits of invasive species, this area of inquiry remains underrepresented and relatively recent. To address the complexity of the challenges posed by invasive species, a broader and more inclusive approach is long overdue.

One such story is that of the Wadha Kolis — a socio-economically marginalised community — who live in and around the Banni grasslands of Kachchh, Gujarat where the invasive plant Prosopis juliflora is widespread. The Banni was once among the largest open grasslands in Asia, spreading over approximately 2,600 km², home to rich biodiversity and a tapestry of pastoral cultures. North of Banni lies the vast White Rann of Kachchh, a salt desert that, following India’s independence, the government feared was encroaching southward. To counter this perceived desertification, Prosopis — a salt-tolerant tree native to Mexico — was introduced en masse. While it’s unclear whether the tree halted the desert’s expansion, its unintended consequence was dramatic: Prosopis spread aggressively, transforming open grasslands into dense, bushy thickets. Today, this ‘mad babul’ (gaando bavar, as it is locally called) dominates over half of Banni. It has spread throughout Kutch, altering not just the ecology, but also the socio-economic fabric of the region.

Read more: The complex life of Banni

The Wadha Kolis are central to the trade of charcoal made from Prosopis wood. They cut Prosopis, construct charcoal mounds, and monitor the combustion process — critical steps at the very start of this supply chain. But this is a relatively new livelihood, shaped by Prosopis’ rise in the landscape. What did they do before? How have they adapted to this transformed socio-ecological terrain? What innovations have helped them adapt?

Tradition meets invasion

Traditionally, Wadha Kolis carved utensils, bed frames, and kitchenware from native Acacia wood, using a distinctive tool called the sangharo. They polished the pieces with natural dyes and lacquer. Historically, they exchanged these handcrafted goods with Maldharis (a pastoralist community) for food, livestock, and essentials, participating in a barter system deeply embedded in the rhythms of nomadic life. However, over time, shifting politics, the encroachment of Prosopis and shrinking access to native trees led to the collapse of this barter network. Carpentry is now a fading art practiced only by a few elders.

Darvesh Wadha Koli (name changed to protect identity), among the last remaining artisans, shared how he now incorporates Prosopis wood into his work. “Freshly cut Prosopis is too moist,” he explained. “It needs to dry for two months before it’s suitable. But once it is, it grips well — often better than native wood.” Darvesh is connected to a local NGO that helps preserve traditional crafts by linking artisans to sustainable markets. Yet this support reaches only a handful of artisans. As younger generations detach from the craft and are not connected to NGOs, the tradition is fading.

Buzz beneath the thickets

Beyond carpentry, the Wadha Kolis also rely on wild honey collection for seasonal income. Bees — primarily Apis florea and Apis cerana — build their hives in dense Prosopis thickets every summer.

During the 2023 honey season, I accompanied Babu Wadha Koli (name changed) and his family. Their foraging trails cut deep into Prosopis-dominated zones. Once a hive was located by tracking bee flight paths, he cleared the undergrowth, used smoke from a hand-rolled bidi to disperse the bees, and extracted the honeycomb. Crucially, he placed back the portion of the hive containing larvae, an act that, as the Wadha Kolis believe, allows the bees to return and rebuild, helping to reduce harm caused to the hive during the honey extraction process. Most honey is sold, with only a small portion retained for household use. Previously, the Forest Department mandated that wild honey be sold only to its collection centre, the Nigam. Since this rule was scrapped in 2017, private traders (vyaparis) have stepped in. They buy unprocessed honey for ₹50-100/kg and resell it at ₹250-350/kg. As one village sarpanch lamented, “There are too many dalals (in the honey business) now… the Wadha Kolis hardly benefit.”

The sale of Prosopis wood is yet another crucial income stream for the Wadha Kolis. Many of them claimed that there was hardly any Prosopis left, forcing them to travel long distances in search of suitable wood for sale or charcoal production. At first, this seemed puzzling — after all, the landscape appears dominated by Prosopis. But they pointed out an important distinction: while the plant is widespread, it mainly exists in a thin, shrubby form. Quality charcoal requires dense, mature wood, which has become scarce due to unchecked lopping, widespread harvesting and grassland restoration efforts.

Eradicate or adapt?

In the contested terrain of the Banni grasslands, the Wadha Kolis’ livelihoods remain deeply intertwined with Prosopis. Dominant voices — both local and institutional — routinely advocate for total removal of the plant. NGOs working across Kutch often echo this majoritarian stance, leaving the lives of the Wadha Kolis further exposed and uncertain. “If gaando bavar is removed, what will we do (for an income)?” asked Bir Wadha Koli. “Our livelihoods will be lost along with it,” added Jyeth Wadha Koli. Like the invasive plant itself, the Wadha Kolis are caught in an ongoing battle — between eradication and adaptation.

These observations made in the Banni echo a growing call among researchers: to view invasive species not just as ecological disruptors but as actors embedded within complex human-nature relationships. While the ecological harm caused by such species is real and demand urgent attention, so too are the social realities they have shaped over decades. In landscapes like the Banni, the line between native and invasive is far more blurred than one would imagine. Perhaps, instead of asking how to remove Prosopis entirely, we should ask how to manage it in ways that benefit both biodiversity and the people who live alongside it. As conservation biologists, we must move beyond a rigid positive-negative binary and begin crafting futures rooted in the local context to promote positive as well as inclusive conservation outcomes.

Citation:

• Bhingardive, S., Kumar, L., Dutta, M., et al. (n.d.). Livelihood strategies for lacquer artisans in Kutch. Report submitted to Khamir.
• Ganguly, D. (2024). Understanding the socio-economic status and socio-ecological interactions of the Wadha community in the Banni grasslands, Kutch, Gujarat. Report submitted to Sahjeevan.
• Kothari, R. (2016). Translation, language, anthropology: notes from the field. Interventions, 18(1), 43-59. https://doi.org/10.1080/1369801X.2015.1040434
• Ravi, R., & Krishnan, S. (2024). Invasive networks: An environmental history of the introduction of Prosopis juliflora to Banni grassland, India. Geoforum, 157, 104144. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.geoforum.2024.104144
• Ravi, R., & Hiremath, A. J. (2024). The plural realities of plant invasions in India: a review of impacts to wellbeing. Environmental Development, 101003. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.envdev.2024.101003

The author of this commentary is a wildlife biologist interested in the conservation of open natural ecosystems. This commentary is based on his work with Sahjeevan, Bhuj, supported by the Jayakrishna Indraji Thaker Reserach Fellowship.

Banner image: Wadha Koli labourers set up mounds of Prosopis juliflora wood to be used for charcoal production. Image by Divyajyoti Ganguly/Sahjeevan.