Beyond the arena: Why nomads need understanding, not just sympathy

By Bharat Dogra  

When the opening ceremony of the World Nomad Games lit up the sky over Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, on August 31, it marked more than the start of a sporting spectacle. For ten days, through September 6, nearly 4,000 athletes, artists, and officials from 104 countries will compete in 43 events—from traditional wrestling and horseback riding to archery—while celebrating the rich folk music and cultural heritage of nomadic communities. India is particularly well represented this year, with a delegation of 87 members, including 73 sportspersons and 10 cultural participants.

Yet beneath the pageantry lies a deeper purpose. These Games are a reminder that nomadic and semi-nomadic communities remain among the most misunderstood and marginalized peoples on earth. Their talents, ecological knowledge, and unique skills—still relevant in an era of climate crisis and sustainability—are routinely overlooked. Worse, their rights are frequently violated by powerful interests, while well-meaning development interventions often fail to account for their wisdom, forcing them into destitution rather than dignity.

Criminalized by Default

During a recent visit to a settlement of the Kabutra community in Mahoba district, Uttar Pradesh, I was struck by an unsettling silence. The residents appeared visibly frightened of an outsider. The reason was not hard to fathom. As members of a highly vulnerable community, they are routinely scapegoated when local crimes go unsolved. When police face pressure to close a case, it is often Kabutra men who are arbitrarily implicated and arrested, leaving families shattered and communities living in perpetual fear.

Livelihoods Snatched Away

In Tonk district, Rajasthan, the Kalandar community faces a different tragedy—one born of bureaucratic indifference. Until a few years ago, these traditional performers wandered with bears and monkeys, presenting captivating street shows across villages and towns. The animals were not merely tools of trade; they were family. Bonds ran so deep that a bear might refuse food if separated from its keeper for more than a day. Here was a living testament to human-animal understanding, a knowledge system built over generations.

Then came new wildlife regulations. The "madaris" were forced to surrender their animals permanently. Their ancestral livelihood vanished overnight—and nothing was created to replace it. Ignoring assets unique to this way of life, the state drove many Kalandars toward begging and destitution.

Broken Symbiosis

Such disruptions have taken many forms. Across India, nomadic pastoralists and settled farmers once maintained a mutually beneficial relationship. Cultivators welcomed pastoralists to camp on fallow fields, where animal dung and urine enriched the soil with free, fertile manure. But the introduction of intensive cropping patterns severed this bond. Farmers grew dependent on chemical fertilizers, and the guests who once nourished the land were rebranded as unwelcome intruders.

India's growing dependence on paper-based identity documents has further squeezed nomadic populations. During the pandemic and subsequent lockdowns, their suffering was acute and predictable. For communities whose lives follow a cyclical rhythm of migration and settlement, the disruption shattered delicate patterns of survival. The consequences will linger for years.

The Settlement Myth

Perhaps no prejudice is more damaging than the assumption that the nomadic way of life is inherently backward, and that "development" can only begin with forced settlement. This distorted thinking ignores the sophisticated knowledge systems nomadic peoples have honed over centuries.

In the Sahel region of Africa, this misconception proved fatal. As agribusiness corporations seized vast tracts of land, nomadic pastoralists were displaced. The collapse of their traditional grazing patterns contributed to famine conditions that killed scores of pastoral people.

Yet those who have studied nomadic life closely tell a different story. In their seminal work Food First, Frances Moore Lappé and Joseph Collins observed: "While the migrations of nomadic pastoral people might look random to outsiders, they are, in reality, patterned to take advantage of variations in rainfall and vegetation. The nomads may herd their livestock over hundreds of miles from rainy season pastures to oases of perennial grasses in dry seasons… The nomadic tactics make use of resources that others would not even consider resources."

K.S. Freudenberger, a social scientist who worked extensively in Senegal, adds: "Pastoralists like FulBe play a critical role in the sustainable management of fragmented ecosystems. Both Third World governments and aid agencies need to recognize this. The key is to work with local people to develop policies to protect grazing lands and nomadic rights where pastoralism is both more sustainable and more environmentally appropriate than farming."

India's Hidden Stewards

The contributions of Indian nomads are no less significant. The Royal Commission of Agriculture noted that the excellence of India's hardy cattle breeds was "due to the care bestowed on them by the professional cattle breeders, usually nomadic… Their skill in selecting and tending cattle was… considerable."

Consider the Van Gujjars of Uttarakhand, long blamed for damaging forests. A careful study by A. Clark, H. Sewill, and R. Walts found that "crown cover was relatively unaffected by lopping and that there was an increase in ground vegetation in an area with lopped trees which would decrease the possibility of erosion." A subsequent Community Forest Management plan described the Van Gujjars' encyclopedic knowledge: "To walk through the forest with a Van Gujjar guide is a lesson in bio-diversity; every species of tree is known, its quality as fodder, the timing of its leaf-fall, medicinal properties and so on. Every sound has meaning, every bird known and its habits noted, every fallen branch or tree noted."

Their buffalo are not the docile village variety but robust, long-distance travelers with excellent night vision and the strength to navigate high mountain pastures. Each animal is named individually; injured ones are carefully tended, and unproductive animals are neither killed nor sold. The buffaloes themselves initiate migration, growing restless for the hills as April heat intensifies, then anxious to descend as mountain air cools in late September. They know the regular stops, the water sources, the safe paths.

Vineeta Hoon's study of the Bhotiyas of the Kumaon Himalaya, Living on the Move, makes a similar case. "The Bhotiyas recognize the unique seasonal opportunities offered by their mountain environment and utilize them in an ecologically sustainable manner," she writes. "Over the course of many generations they have devised and refined a set of economic strategies and land use practices… attuned to the opportunities of their high mountain ecosystem." Energy and time-space analyses, she notes, demonstrate that "pastoral nomadism and transhumance are appropriate eco-technologies which are effective in using a marginal environment without damaging it."

Bhotiya shepherds are also walking archives of botanical knowledge. "They know which portions of the plants to collect as food, medicines and seasoning, they also know the best time for collection and understand the symbiotic relations between different species of plants." This knowledge is transmitted orally through songs, dances, and folklore—innovative, experiential education systems that have ensured survival in one of the world's harshest habitats.

Some nomadic groups have even shaped India's hydraulic landscape. Pichola Lake, a vital water source for Udaipur, was constructed by Banjara nomads. The Maldhari nomads of Kutch developed Virda, a unique rainwater harvesting system that sustained not only their herds but also neighboring travelers and villages.

A Call for Pluralism

Given these many-sided achievements, it is tragic that officials and policymakers so often treat nomads as backward, pressing them to abandon their traditions. A fundamentally different approach—one rooted in genuine sympathy and deep understanding—is urgently needed. The media, too, must move beyond stereotype and spectacle to chronicle the complex realities of nomadic life.

In recent decades, some communities have already been forced into semi-nomadic or partially settled existence. Many Van Gujjars, for instance, have had to give up their traditional lifestyle under new policies. For them, the need is not paternalistic instruction but close consultation to understand what support they require in changed circumstances.

The World Nomad Games celebrate human endurance, skill, and cultural pride. But when the athletes return home, the world must not forget the communities they represent. Nomads do not need salvation from their way of life. They need recognition of their rights, protection of their knowledge, and the freedom to choose their own future—whether on the move or at rest.

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The writer is Honorary Convener, Campaign to Save Earth Now. His recent books include Planet in Peril, A Day in 2071, Man over Machine, and Protecting Earth for Children. His website is bharatdogra.in and his YouTube channel is Bharat Dogra | Save Earth Campaign