In the misty hills of the northern Sherpur, northeaster Sylhet and the forest fringes of Cox’s Bazar and Bandarban, a quiet revolution is underway, one where empathy, not enforcement, is being wielded as the sharpest tool for conservation.

This shift comes from a new directive from Syeda Rizwana Hasan, Adviser to the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change and the Ministry of Water Resources: Ensure human-elephant coexistence, and do it with compassion, speed, and local wisdom.

Speaking at a high-level virtual review meeting on Sunday night, Rizwana made it clear: the government’s priority is no longer just protecting elephants, it’s protecting people who live alongside them, too.

“The survival of elephants and the safety of communities are not opposing goals,” she said. “They must walk the same path. And that path begins with justice swift, simple, and certain.”

For years, farmers in elephant corridors, from Teknaf to Sylhet, have faced a cruel dilemma: lose crops, homes, even lives to roaming herds, only to wait months, sometimes years, for meagre compensation buried under bureaucratic red tape.

That may soon change.

Rizwana announced plans to simplify and amend existing rules so that victims of elephant attacks receive faster, more accessible financial relief. The goal? Turn a system once defined by delay into one defined by dignity.

“If a family loses their harvest in one night, they shouldn’t spend the next six months chasing paperwork,” Hasan stressed. “We must act like neighbours because that’s what we are to these elephants.”

But compensation alone won’t prevent conflict. Prevention will.

To that end, the Elephant Response Team (ERT), a rapid intervention unit trained to safely guide herds away from villages, will be revitalised with a new mandate: hire locally, equip fully, act swiftly.

Hasan called for skilled community members to be recruited into the ERT and provided with walkie-talkies, GPS devices, and protective gear, turning those most affected by elephant movements into the first line of defence.

“Who knows the land better than the people who farm it?” she asked. “Let them be the eyes and ears of conservation.”

One of the most urgent challenges, Hasan noted, is the rise of reckless human behaviour, particularly the dangerous trend of people chasing or filming elephants for social media clout.

“No TikTok video is worth a life, human or elephant,” she warned. “Going near elephants, provoking them, filming them at close range, this must stop. Immediately.”

To counter this, the ministry will launch a nationwide awareness campaign, producing and promoting short, shareable videos across social media platforms. School and college students will be engaged through training programs, while local leaders will help spread the message: respect the elephant, protect the community.

Another key strategy? Rewilding with purpose.

Rizwana also emphasised the need to plant elephant-friendly trees, species like simul (silk cotton), dhak, and banyan, within and around forest corridors. These trees not only provide natural food sources but also reduce the need for elephants to venture into farmlands.

“We must give them reasons to stay in the forest not just fences, but food,” she said.

Special attention will also be given during the Boro paddy season, when elephants are most likely to raid fields. Extra forest personnel will be deployed, and early warning systems strengthened to prevent deadly encounters.

Voices from the Frontlines

The meeting brought together key stakeholders: Chief Conservator of Forests Md Amir Hossain Chowdhury; wildlife expert Professor Dr Ali Reza Khan, ASM Zahir Uddin Akon, Director of the Elephant Conservation Project, and local leaders from Sherpur and beyond

All echoed the same message: coexistence is possible, but only if top-down policies meet ground-level realities.

This isn’t just about saving elephants.
It’s about redefining what conservation means in a densely populated country where humans and wildlife share shrinking spaces.

Bangladesh is choosing a path not of separation, but of shared survival, where compensation is prompt, communities are empowered, and elephants are not seen as invaders, but as ancient neighbours deserving of space, silence, and respect.

As Rizwana Hasan put it: “An elephant’s footprint in a field should not mean fear. With the right systems, it can become a symbol of balance, between nature and nation, between wildness and humanity.”

And perhaps, in that balance, lies the future of both.