Nepal, which already protects 23 percent of its land, is now considering expanding this to 30 percent in line with the Kunming–Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KM-GBF) 2022. Among the 23 targets adopted at the Convention on Biological Diversity’s COP15, the goal of conserving 30 percent of land and sea by 2030—popularly known as 30x30—has received particular attention.

Unsurprisingly, the target has drawn both strong support from conservation advocates and criticism from others. Conservationists in Nepal are excited. For years, they have argued that Nepal’s biodiversity and ecosystems are not adequately protected, particularly in the mid-hills. Despite several attempts, establishing additional protected areas in the mid-hills has faced significant barriers. In response, conservationists considered less controversial approaches, such as forest conservation areas, wildlife corridors and environmental protection areas. The newly agreed global targets have provided conservationists with a stronger rationale, greater legitimacy and possibly the prospect of additional financial resources.

This all sounds promising, especially amid the deepening ecological crisis. In Nepal, environmental degradation is increasingly visible: degrading forests and ecosystems are harming smallholders and forest-dependent communities; declining soil quality and the loss of agrobiodiversity are weakening agriculture; millions face water scarcity; and air pollution claims thousands of lives each year. In this context, the protection of forests, rivers, grasslands and entire landscapes is urgently needed to address these interconnected challenges.

However, modern conservation also carries risks. For decades, conservation in Nepal has been narrowly tied to protected areas and charismatic species such as tigers and rhinos. This has focused attention on a few forest landscapes while leaving the rest of the country exposed to extractive development. As a result, the environmental impacts of infrastructure expansion, urbanisation, mining and chemical-intensive agriculture are often overlooked, so long as protected areas continue to stand as visible symbols of conservation success.

Second, centralised and bureaucratic approaches to conservation planning and management, particularly of protected area systems, have often marginalised or excluded a wide range of local actors and their knowledge systems. Many were evicted or forcibly resettled, while access to critical livelihood resources was substantially constrained. Local people’s cultural relationships with nature were heavily regulated. Consequently, hundreds of thousands of indigenous peoples and local communities in Nepal were separated from their own natural environments, turning nature—society relations into relationships marked by tension and hostility.

Here lies a paradox. Today, those who depend most on a well-conserved nature, with all its fecundity and abundance, often appear to be resisting conservation. Meanwhile, those who are distant from it, less vulnerable to the consequences of ecological degradation, and whose futures lie elsewhere, often appear to be the most ardent conservationists. Why is this? What is going on?

Consider this situation. As one former warden of Chitwan National Park once told local leaders in Chitwan: “I love every bird, ant and termite in this forest. But you talk only about extracting grass and fuelwood, not about protecting wildlife. You want to use everything like Rakshyasa, literally, a demon or destructive being.

Born into a wealthy family in central Nepal, educated at a forestry college, and eventually appointed as a park warden, he came to see himself as a protector of nature. In contrast, the indigenous peoples of Chitwan —who had lived there for generations and whose futures were deeply intertwined with the ecological sustainability of the place—he saw as threats, even as demons. This reflects a broader tendency within conservation to portray indigenous peoples and local communities as adversaries of conservation.

It is great that the country is celebrating increased populations of tigers and rhinos and projecting itself as one of the leaders in biodiversity conservation globally. However, the celebration comes at a cost. Hundreds of thousands of people suffer from loss of crop, livestock, property and even human injuries and deaths. At the same time, millions of people have suffered from drying springs, declining soil fertility, landslides and floods, polluted waters and toxic air. Many scientific studies have pointed to the continued loss of biodiversity despite the expanding size and number of protected areas.

This enduring contradiction in Nepal’s conservation journey compels us to ask: What exactly should be conserved? Answering this requires moving beyond isolated protected areas and an excessive focus on charismatic species like rhinos and tigers. Forests, wetlands, rangelands, farmlands, rivers and human settlements all require strong stewardship and sustainable management. As the Kunming–Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework reminds us, nature sustains food, water, clean air, health, culture and protection from natural hazards. This is even more urgent in an era of accelerating climate change and growing climate-related disasters.

A second, equally important question is: Who should lead conservation? It should be led by those with the greatest stake in nature—local communities whose lives directly depend on it, including smallholders, women, indigenous peoples, artisans and fishers living in and around forests and rivers. Their futures are inseparable from the health of these ecosystems. This does not diminish the role of the state, civil society or private actors. The real issue is who should be in the driving seat: Who decides, plans, manages and uses these vital natural systems.

This calls for a radical reframing of our relationship with nature. Nature is not something ‘out there’ but part of an integrated socio-ecological whole. As Murray Bookchin, the pioneering social ecologist, argued, “Ecological problems cannot be clearly understood, much less resolved, without resolutely dealing with problems within society.” Biodiversity loss, therefore, cannot be simplistically attributed to poor communities living around natural ecosystems. Instead, its roots often lie much deeper—in our core social values and in the deliberately chosen pathways of development, prosperity and civilisation that shape our societies, political institutions and economic systems that overlook persistent inequalities and social injustices.

The newly agreed Kunming–Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework (KM-GBF), including the much-discussed 30x30 Target, appears to acknowledge many of these historical contradictions and to adopt a more inclusive, rights-based approach. While proposing to expand areas under conservation, it takes a holistic approach to nature conservation by moving beyond conventional protected areas. It recognises the rights, roles and knowledge of indigenous peoples and local communities, promotes gender justice and respects livelihoods alongside broader social and economic aspirations. If Nepal wishes to maintain its image as a global leader in conservation, it must uphold not only the numerical targets but also the spirit and vision of the Convention, living in harmony with nature by 2050, by adopting an inclusive and genuinely deliberative approach.