When trees become rights-bearing citizens: A lesson from Canada for India’s ecological future

On June 9, 2026, the small Canadian municipality of Terrasse-Vaudreuil, Quebec—a town of barely 2,000 people carved out of the forest some 75 years ago—adopted a resolution that sent ripples across the global environmental community. The resolution declared that trees are worthy of protection, “including the right to life, to natural growth, to integrity and to regeneration”.

In doing so, Terrasse-Vaudreuil became the first municipality in Canada to endorse the Universal Declaration of the Rights of the Tree, an international initiative that recognizes trees as living beings and a common human good, affirms that life on Earth depends on their existence, and declares that humans must act in “fraternity and solidarity” with them.

“A tree is like a human being,” said Mayor Michel Bourdeau. “It breathes, it lives, it takes in water. It protects us from all sorts of things”. When it comes to fighting climate change, he added, “our biggest ally is the trees”.

This decision may appear symbolic to some—a quaint gesture from a small town in a wealthy nation. But it raises a profound question for India: Do we really need to learn from the West to respect what our civilization has worshipped for thousands of years?

India’s Ancient Ecological Wisdom

Long before environmental laws were drafted, before the term “sustainability” entered the global lexicon, Indian civilization had already embedded environmental ethics into its cultural and spiritual fabric.

The Rig Veda reveres forests as sacred spaces. The Atharva Veda describes the Earth as a nurturing mother—“Mata Bhumih Putroham Prithivyah” (Earth is my mother, I am her son)—deserving respect rather than exploitation. The Bhagavad Gita emphasizes harmony between all living beings, while the Upanishads advocate coexistence with nature as the highest form of spiritual realization.

Trees like the Peepel (Ficus religiosa), Banyan, Neem, Tulsi, and Bilva have been worshipped not merely as religious symbols but as life-support systems. Sacred groves—Dev Vans and Sarna—have served as community-managed biodiversity reserves across India for centuries, from the Devarakadus of Karnataka to the Orans of Rajasthan, from the Sacred Groves of Meghalaya to the Sarnas of Jharkhand.

In essence, the concept that trees possess dignity, that they are entitled to respect and protection, is not new to India—it is deeply rooted in our cultural DNA. Our ancestors never viewed trees merely as timber. They saw them as protectors, providers, and companions in human civilization.

Modern Science Supports Ancient Beliefs

For decades, trees were viewed merely as biological resources—standing timber to be measured, harvested, and replaced. However, scientific research over the past two decades has fundamentally transformed our understanding of arboreal life.

Studies have demonstrated that trees communicate through underground fungal networks—often called the “Wood Wide Web”—exchanging nutrients, sending distress signals, and even recognizing their own kin. They respond to environmental stress, warn neighboring trees of insect attacks through chemical signals, and adapt collectively to changing climatic conditions. A forest is not a collection of individual trees but an interconnected community—a living, breathing superorganism.

As Yenny Vega Cardenas, president of the International Observatory of Nature Rights, observed, the tree declaration is significant because it “acknowledges that a single tree is an ecosystem of its own, which can provide shade, food and habitat for other species”. “We need to understand that [trees] have dignity and they have senses,” she said.

While describing trees as having “rights” remains a legal and ethical concept rather than a biological one, science increasingly supports the idea that forests function as interconnected living systems rather than isolated organisms. This convergence of traditional knowledge and modern ecology strengthens the argument for treating forests with greater legal and moral responsibility.

Why This Matters for India

India possesses approximately 25.17 per cent of its geographical area under forest and tree cover—roughly 72.7 million hectares, accounting for about two per cent of the world’s forests. Yet rapid urbanization, infrastructure expansion, mining, forest fires, and climate change continue to threaten these ecosystems at an alarming rate.

The consequences are already visible across the subcontinent:

• Rising temperatures and intensifying urban heat islands
• Declining groundwater recharge and water scarcity
• Increased frequency and severity of floods and droughts
• Accelerating biodiversity loss
• Escalating human-wildlife conflicts
• Worsening air pollution and declining public health

Every mature tree removed from an urban landscape reduces carbon sequestration capacity, increases ambient temperatures, weakens ecological resilience, and diminishes the mental and physical well-being of communities. The economic cost of losing trees—when measured in terms of ecosystem services lost—often far exceeds the value of the development projects for which they are sacrificed.

Forests, as Mayor Bourdeau rightly described them, are “a true green infrastructure”. “They help reduce urban heat islands, improve air quality, manage precious water resources and protect biodiversity”. Yet governments continue to invest billions in roads, bridges, and buildings while forests quietly perform services worth billions of rupees annually—carbon sequestration, oxygen generation, groundwater recharge, soil conservation, flood moderation, temperature regulation, pollination support, wildlife habitat—without demanding maintenance contracts.

Indian Judiciary Has Already Taken Important Steps

Although India has not formally recognized trees as legal persons nationwide, several judicial pronouncements reflect similar thinking—and in some cases, have gone even further.

The Indian Constitution already provides a robust framework for environmental protection. Article 48A directs the State to “endeavour to protect and improve the environment and to safeguard the forests and wildlife of the country”. Article 51A(g) imposes a fundamental duty on every citizen “to protect and improve the natural environment including forests, lakes, rivers and wildlife, and to have compassion for living creatures”.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly expanded the scope of Article 21—the Right to Life—to include the right to a clean and healthy environment. The Court has held that forests are “in a sense, lungs which generate oxygen for the survival of human beings”. In the State of Telangana v. Mohd. Abdul Qasim case, the Supreme Court based its reasoning on the economic value of forests, rights of nature, environmental and climate justice, and ecocentrism.

In 2017, the Uttarakhand High Court went a step further, declaring the Ganges and Yamuna rivers “legal and living entities having the status of a legal person with all corresponding rights, duties and liabilities”. The ruling equated polluting the rivers to attacking a person. While the Supreme Court later overturned this specific ruling, the very fact that such a judgment was delivered reflects an evolving environmental jurisprudence that increasingly recognizes ecosystems as entities deserving protection.

At least three of India’s state High Courts have issued decisions recognizing elements of nature as having legal status. The Madras High Court, for instance, ruled that “Mother Nature” is a “living being” with legal entity. The Rajasthan High Court has also weighed in on the need to protect heritage trees.

These developments indicate that India’s legal framework is gradually moving from viewing forests merely as economic assets toward recognizing their intrinsic ecological and ethical value. As one commentator noted, “legal personhood’ or ‘juristic persons’ is a concept that does not exist outside the periphery of law”—yet it is precisely within this periphery that the most transformative changes can occur.

Jammu & Kashmir: One Step Ahead

While the national debate on tree rights continues, one region of India has already taken a pioneering step that puts it ahead of the Canadian municipality in practical terms. The Jammu & Kashmir Forest Department, in collaboration with the J&K Forest Research Institute (JKFRI), has launched an innovative GIS-based, QR-enabled conservation project for the iconic Chinar trees of Kashmir.

The Chinar (Platanus orientalis)—known locally as Bouin, derived from the Sanskrit word Bhawani meaning “goddess”—is the state tree of Jammu and Kashmir and an indelible part of the region’s history, religion, literature, and culture. These majestic trees can grow up to 30 meters in height with a trunk circumference of 10 to 15 metres, and take approximately 150 years to reach full maturity. Some of Kashmir’s Chinars are over 650 years old. The J&K Forest Department has already moved a step forward by geo tagging the heritage trees of Union Territory of J&K.

The project, spearheaded by the Research Forest Division Srinagar and initiated in 2021, involves the geotagging and QR coding of Chinar trees to enable precise monitoring and management. Each tree is assigned a unique QR code—a “Digital Tree Aadhaar”—that records information about 25 characteristics, including its geographical location, health, age, growth patterns, and risk factors. By scanning the QR code, anyone can access detailed information about the specific tree.

So far, the department has identified, surveyed, and geotagged over 28,500 Chinar trees across the Union Territory. “By geo-tagging each tree, we can monitor their health, ensuring their protection and preservation for future generations,” says Syed Tariq, project coordinator at JKFRI. The initiative aims to create a robust system for monitoring these heritage trees and addressing threats proactively.

This initiative represents a significant step toward what could be called “digital stewardship”—using technology not to exploit trees but to protect them. While Terrasse-Vaudreuil’s resolution is largely symbolic, J&K’s geotagging project provides a practical, data-driven model for tree conservation that other states can replicate.

Beyond Plantation Drives

India has become synonymous with large-scale plantation campaigns. From the Green India Mission to various state-level afforestation drives, millions of saplings are planted every year. While these initiatives are commendable, plantation alone cannot compensate for the loss of old-growth trees.

A 100-year-old Peepal or Banyan—or a 650-year-old Chinar—cannot be replaced by planting a sapling. The ecosystem services provided by a mature tree—carbon sequestration, biodiversity habitat, microclimate regulation, groundwater recharge—take decades, even centuries, to develop. The cultural and historical significance of heritage trees is irreplaceable.

True conservation begins with protecting existing trees before planting new ones. As the J&K Forest Department has demonstrated with its Chinar geotagging initiative, technology can play a crucial role in this effort—but only if accompanied by political will, community participation, and a genuine shift in values.

The Way Forward

The Canadian initiative may not immediately change global environmental law, but it has successfully shifted public discourse from “ownership” to “stewardship.” It has reminded the world that environmental conservation is ultimately an ethical choice—a choice about how we understand our relationship with the natural world.

India, with its unparalleled ecological heritage and ancient philosophical traditions, can go much further. We need not imitate this idea; rather, we can revive our own timeless philosophy of living in harmony with nature.

The J&K Forest Department has already demonstrated that such initiatives are not only feasible but effective. Over 28,500 Chinar trees have been digitally documented and are now under continuous monitoring. This is not symbolism—this is practical, data-driven conservation.

Whether or not trees receive formal legal rights, they unquestionably sustain the very rights we cherish—our right to clean air, safe water, food security, and a stable climate. They are not ornaments on the landscape; they are the infrastructure of life itself.

In an era defined by climate change, perhaps the greatest measure of progress is not how many trees we plant, but how many ancient trees we choose to save. The J&K Forest Department’s Chinar geotagging initiative offers a compelling model—one that combines India’s ancient reverence for trees with twenty-first-century technology. It is a reminder that we need not look to the West for inspiration; we already possess the wisdom, the tools, and the will to protect our living heritage.

Our ancestors never viewed trees merely as timber. They saw them as protectors, providers, and companions in human civilization. The question before us today is whether we will honour that vision—or sacrifice it on the altar of short-term development.

“If we protect trees, they will continue protecting humanity. The future of civilization depends not only on technological advancement but on ecological wisdom.” 

The author is an environmental researcher.