Elephants in temples: Why cling to a cruel, archaic practice and call it ‘culture’

THE Supreme Court's recent remark that using elephants in temple celebrations is part of our culture highlights how selectively we understand culture.

Yes, elephants have always played an important role in Indian history, mythology and traditions. We adored them, developed treatises on how to care for them, and even rode them into combat. However, India no longer fights wars on elephant backs. We changed, adapted, and abandoned methods that no longer aligned with the ethical and practical realities of today. Why, then, do we insist on holding on to the cruel spectacle of captive elephants in religious festivals?

Let us be honest. The elephants we see now at temple festivals, tethered for hours, forced to walk through firecracker-blasting crowds, and subjected to constant blaring from loudspeakers, are not symbols of cultural pride. They're victims. Victims of an outmoded assumption that the greatest being on earth should be the one that parades our deities and beliefs and, in the process, suffers hell.

From battle elephants to chained elephants

India has a long history of engaging elephants, not just in religious contexts but also in administration and warfare. Thomas Trautmann's Elephants & Kings: An Environmental History describes how elephants were once symbols of both divine power and state authority. From the Mauryan Empire to the Mughal courts, they were indispensable to rulers, valued for their intelligence, strength, and role in warfare. They were valuable resources for kings, and yet, they were allowed space, dignity, and vast forested areas to thrive.

Today's temple elephants, by contrast, are captives rather than soldiers or royal companions. They are stripped of their individuality, deprived of their social relationships, and forced to live in environments that are entirely alien to their nature. The very animals that were once considered too noble for common labour are today exposed to endless parades, loud fireworks & noise, and cruel captivity.

A culture that once understood elephants—and now fails them.

India wasn’t just a country that ‘used’ elephants. It was also a country that understood them better than most. The ancient Sanskrit text Matanga Lila, dating to over a thousand years ago, is regarded as one of the most comprehensive manuals on elephant care.

It described elephants' deep intelligence, emotions, and social nature and provided guidelines on how they should be treated—with care, patience, and respect. The irony is that everything it cautioned against—overworking, neglect, and harsh training—is precisely what we do now, under the guise of "culture."

Elephants in captivity were once given forests to roam, bonds to build, and a dignified life, even while they worked for humans. What we see today—elephants held in solitary confinement, displayed as live trophies, and dying of stress-related ailments—would be unrecognisable to ancient Indian scholars and mahouts.

The reality of temple elephants

For every temple festival adorned with a gorgeous tusker, there are innumerable hidden stories of pain. Like Thechikottukavu Ramachandran, one of Kerala's most famous elephants, who has killed many people and even other elephants—most likely out of fatigue and stress— is nevertheless celebrated as a star attraction. Or the case of Rajeshwari, a temple elephant in Tamil Nadu, that died of weariness, standing on stone floors for hours, blessing the devotees, and an accident where it broke its legs and had sores all over her body.

And most recently, at the Manakulangara temple festival in Koyilandy, Kerala, two elephants, Peethambaran and Gokul, were startled by fireworks, leading them to go on a rampage. This incident resulted in the death of three individuals and injuries to at least 30 others. These aren't single incidents; they're patterns.

But these patterns get overlooked, and each incident is seen as an issue of individual elephants. No one seems to want to see the situation as a failure of the system – one that should ensure the proper and healthy treatment of elephants, the regulations that need to be adhered to for their use in public functions, their handling by the mahouts and so on. Even the Supreme Court that dealt with this matter perhaps ignored these patterns and fundamental questions.

The fact is the system itself is failing; perhaps the owners of the elephants or the institutions that hire them—temples, mosques, churches, and so on—do not believe in having a decent system. Many temple elephants in Kerala and elsewhere are privately owned and rented out for profit. They are not treated as sentient creatures, but rather commodities. The larger society, and specifically the Supreme Court judge, need to be reminded that the so-called "culture" and "tradition" have today degraded by choice into a ruthless industry in which elephants are bought, sold, and exploited with almost no control, neither traditional, modern, nor legal.

Doesn't culture evolve?

Let us now look at the argument of culture. India was formerly a land where, in some cultures, widows were burnt on pyres (sati), child marriages were prevalent, human sacrifices were rituals, and caste ruled a person's entire life. All of these were justified as "tradition" and “culture” at one point. But we did away with them. We succeeded in doing so, although it wasn't without challenges or difficulties.

Elephant parades may have had a place in temple rites when elephants were well cared for and their presence was symbolic and not exploitative. However, those days have long since passed. Elephants at today's festivals are not symbols of divinity; rather, they are living testaments to our society's incapacity and insensitivity to recognise suffering when it confronts us.

However, change is imminent

But then there is a gradual but steady shift happening—not from outside the faith but from within. Many temples in Kerala are currently exploring humane alternatives, including symbolic processions, decorated chariots, and artistic representations. These rituals are designed to honour tradition without harming animals.

The Irinjadappilly Sree Krishna Temple in Thrissur introduced a life-sized mechanical elephant in 2023. The same year, the Aluva Thiruvairanikulam Mahadeva Temple used a wooden palanquin instead of the elephant. In 2018 itself, the Nalppathenneeswaram Temple in Cherthala had shifted to wooden structures. Both the Kanichukulangara temple and the Cherthala Sree Mahadeva Temple in Alappuzha have discontinued the use of live elephants, citing safety and compassion in their decision. Many more temple trusts and devaswoms are considering doing away with the cruel practice of elephant parading, which today has also turned dangerous.

This course of action is not novel. Sree Narayana Guru, the great reformer, is known to have called for temples to be free of elephants and fireworks—“Kariyum karimarunnum illatha kshethram venam” Following the 2016 Puttingal fireworks tragedy, the Sivagiri Mutt reaffirmed this vision. Swami Prakasananda, the president of the organisation, encouraged temples to relinquish elephants and explosives in accordance with the Guru's teachings. Following recent incidents of rampage by elephants, they reiterated this stance.

In the present day, a multitude of contemporary spiritual voices reaffirm this sentiment, emphasising that devotion should not be equated with domination and that the essence of worship should be compassion. And when we explore new ways of processions and parading the idols, human creativity gets a renewed space; “culture” and “tradition” are reinvented and preserved, and no harm is caused to the most magnificent of animals, the elephants.

The way forward: A culture of compassion

We have a choice. We can stubbornly cling to a cruel, archaic practice and call it “culture”. Or we can do what India has done for centuries—evolve, adapt, or innovate and lead.

And, if the underlying issue is devotion, it cannot be at the cost of terrible harm and suffering to others. If the gods can only be pleased by an elephant, surely they would have chosen one that is free, joyous, and unchained rather than a beaten, broken creature standing lifelessly and in pain among a festival crowd.

Culture is not a museum piece; it is a living, breathing entity that evolves. And if we can forego war elephants and human sacrifices, we can certainly do away with the horrible, outmoded ritual of temple parades.

So, the next time you see an elephant swaying with its legs chained and tears in its eyes, ask yourself: Are we actually honouring the gods? Or are we simply showing them the devil in us? And calling it “culture”.

Sridhar Radhakrishnan is an observer and writer on development and policy related to the environment, agriculture, and climate.