Towering and majestic, elephants have always been an integral part of India’s cultural and religious landscape. For centuries, elephants have been used as war machines, beasts of burden for logging and construction, and as living symbols of divinity, most notably as representations of the revered god Ganesha. Draped in elaborate garments and adorned with ornaments, they are often the centerpiece of religious processions, forced to walk through packed streets under the weight of expectation and traditions. But behind this spectacle lies a much darker and sobering reality, one marked by captivity, control, and silent suffering as they are pushed to their physical and emotional limits. And when they lash out, it’s often interpreted as sudden aggression — but the truth is more complex.
To better understand why this happens, it is important to first recognise that contrary to popular belief, elephants are not truly domesticated animals. They are wild animals that have been tamed through fear, coercion, and domination. Despite being used by humans for centuries, elephants have never undergone the process of true domestication.
True domestication involves many generations of selective breeding, isolation from wild populations, and genetic adaptation to life alongside humans, as seen in animals like dogs or horses. Elephants, however, have historically never been bred successfully in captivity on a large scale. Most captive elephants were taken from the wild and forced into submission through intimidation and control.
So while they might have lived years in captivity, elephants haven’t been shaped by it. They’re still wild beings, and their wild instincts still remain intact!
A History of Use — Not Domestication
Elephants have worked alongside humans for thousands of years. In Thailand, they were used in wars as early as 1400 BC. In 326 BC, the Indian king Porus tried to stop Alexander the Great with a line of 85 elephants. Centuries later, Hannibal famously tried to cross the Alps with 34 African elephants. And from the rule of the Khmer Empire right up to the colonial era, elephants were used for both war and labour.
But these stories often ended the same way: chaos.
Elephants were considered formidable assets in ancient warfare as their sheer size and strength could strike fear and panic in enemy ranks, often causing troops to flee. The largest mammals on Earth also signalled an image of might for the side that had the larger number with them. War elephants were used to charge into enemy formations, trampling soldiers and breaking lines, while also serving as mobile platforms for archers and soldiers armed with heavy weaponry. Commanders would often ride atop these elephants, using the height advantage to survey the battlefield and issue orders for attacks.
But this grandeur came with a cost. Enemy archers could easily target the riders, especially the mahouts or commanders, which would disrupt leadership and also leave the elephants confused and unmanageable. Once a mahout was taken down, the panicked elephant often lost direction, trampling many from their own side.
This is what happened in 1526 during the Battle of Panipat, when Babur’s cannons frightened Ibrahim Lodi’s elephants. The terrified animals turned back, crushing Lodi’s army and helping the Mughals take over Delhi.
History holds many such examples where it was eventually made obvious that elephants were not suited, and were often unpredictable, for war. Elephants, overwhelmed by cannon fire or the clash of weapons, often panicked and turned on their own forces, not out of rebellion, but out of fear. Noises, crowds, fire, and chaos overwhelm them. Their reaction wasn’t calculated aggression, but a natural response to the loudness and confusion of war. Elephants are not wired to endure the maddening mayhem of human conflict, and when forced into it, they suffered greatly.
Sensitive Hearing, Heightened Stress
Now imagine that same fear, but in a modern-day setting.
Crowds pack the streets. The noise is relentless. Fireworks burst, drums pound, people shout, and loudspeakers blare from every direction. Add to that the blazing heat, long hours without food or water, tight schedules and tighter chains, and the use of tools meant to control, and you’ve got a dangerous situation.
Elephants used in these events are often made to walk for hours on hot tar roads. They’re separated from their natural environments, kept in isolation, denied proper food, water, and rest. Many suffer from untreated injuries and foot infections. The mental toll is just as severe.
So when an elephant “goes rogue” at a festival, it’s not entirely unexpected. It’s the result of years of mistreatment and a moment of panic under extreme pressure. All it takes is one loud sound or one sudden movement for the animal to snap and lose control.
Elephants are incredibly sensitive animals. Their hearing is so sharp they can detect sounds at a range far below what humans can pick up. With large ears and nerve-rich foot pads, they don’t just hear, they feel vibrations through the ground and use low-frequency rumbles to communicate across long distances. But this heightened sensitivity also makes them vulnerable. The pandemonium of crackers and drums to loudspeakers and shouting crowds can overwhelm them quickly. What feels like a joyful celebration to us can sound like a commotion to them.
Trapped in this overstimulating environment, their stress skyrockets. Chained and surrounded by thousands of people, even a single firecracker can trigger a panic response. And when that happens, their instinct prompts them to escape.
That’s what happened recently in Ahmedabad, Gujarat. During a festival for which a large number of people had gathered, a distressed tusker, overwhelmed and desperate to flee, charged through the crowd in a frantic attempt to escape. It wasn’t just “rage”, it was rage fueled by fear. In a similar incident earlier this year, an elephant went on a rampage during a religious ceremony in Kerala’s Palakkad district, which resulted in the death of a man and the injury of another.
Events like these are tragic, not just for the people affected, but for the elephants too. These animals aren’t naturally aggressive. They don’t seek harm. But when placed in hostile environments, denied rest, and stripped of choice, their natural instinct is survival. And when a ten-foot-tall, five-tonne-heavy being pushes his way through a swarm of people to survive, the results can be devastating.
A Call for Compassion and Change
The solution to incidences like this isn’t tighter chains or more control. It’s compassion. It’s recognising that elephants, no matter how long they’ve lived alongside humans, don’t belong in tumultuous, high-stress environments like religious festivals or on roads with blaring horns.
If we want to prevent more tragedies, we need to seriously rethink how and why elephants are being used for public ceremonies. Elephants are intelligent, emotionally complex beings. They thrive in social groups, depend on strong bonds, and communicate with each other through sound, touch, and subtle vibrations. These majestic beings are robbed of their inborn abilities in human populated surroundings.
Festive or religious celebrations don’t need to be held at the cost of another species’ freedom or welfare.
The first step toward creating safer spaces, for both humans and elephants, is to stop treating them as ceremonial decorations. They are not props. They are wild animals, with wild instincts and needs that cannot be overlooked.
We let go of outdated practices when newer forms take over. Elephants were once used in battle, until modern warfare rendered them unnecessary. The logic of novelty can be applied towards positive causes as well, if we use them wisely and correctly. We have technology, creativity, and cultural insight that can be combined and used to honour traditions in new, better ways. For instance, the Irinjadappilly Sree Krishna Temple in Thrissur, Kerala, has already adopted robotic elephants, preserving ritual without cruelty. They haven’t abandoned heritage, but have evolved it in a considerate manner.
True reverence for elephants means protecting their right to live with dignity, not parading them through tumultuous streets. Compassion doesn’t weaken faithfully followed tradition, it strengthens it, making space for progress, empathy, and mutual respect.
You can help by taking a stand. Support our Refuse to Ride campaign and say no to elephant rides, which only fuel the cycle of captivity and abuse. Join our Begging Elephant Campaign to help rescue elephants forced to beg on the streets, kept in chains, and denied basic care. Every action counts – and together, we can create a future where elephants are no longer objects of entertainment, but beings worthy of freedom and care. If you would like to donate to the cause click here.
Feature image: Mradul Pathak/ Wildlife SOS
