Integrating IKS into formal conservation policies remains a complicated process despite its clear value. One of the biggest challenges is the lack of recognition. Decision-makers often dismiss traditional knowledge as anecdotal or unscientific simply because it does not come in the form of published research or peer-reviewed journals. This dismissal is not just academic - it leads to policies that overlook or contradict local wisdom, creating tension between communities and conservation authorities.
A striking example is the creation of national parks that exclude indigenous communities. The Batwa people of Uganda were evicted from their ancestral forests when Bwindi Impenetrable and Mgahinga National Parks were established for gorilla conservation. Their sustainable foraging and spiritual connection to the forest were disregarded, even though their presence had not harmed the ecosystem for centuries.
Another issue is the power imbalance in policy spaces. Indigenous voices are rarely at the table where environmental decisions are made. Even when invited to participate, community representatives are sometimes expected to fit into rigid bureaucratic processes that do not account for oral traditions or communal leadership structures. This mismatch can lead to token consultation rather than genuine collaboration. It also means that the nuance and context behind traditional practices get lost or watered down in translation.
A second challenge is land rights. Many indigenous communities have been displaced from their ancestral lands in the name of conservation. National parks and reserves are frequently established without considering the role local communities play in maintaining biodiversity. The Maasai, for instance, have faced restrictions on their grazing practices due to conservation laws, despite their methods being inherently sustainable. In Southern Africa, the San communities have repeatedly raised concerns over losing access to traditional hunting territories due to protected area boundaries drawn without their input.
There are also legal and institutional barriers. Many countries have environmental policies that are heavily influenced by colonial legal frameworks. These laws often prioritise ownership and control over stewardship and responsibility. As a result, indigenous land rights remain insecure and communities can be evicted from ancestral territories in the name of conservation. Protected areas are sometimes created without considering the people who have been sustainably managing those landscapes for generations, framing them as threats to biodiversity instead of as allies.
The language used in conservation spaces as well, often excludes traditional knowledge holders. Policy documents, grant proposals and research reports are usually written in technical jargon or foreign languages, making it difficult for community leaders to engage with them meaningfully. This limits participation and reinforces the idea that expertise only comes from outside the community. Without structural changes that value different forms of knowledge, traditional practices will continue to be sidelined, regardless of their effectiveness.
There is also the challenge of economic pressure. Many African governments are encouraged to adopt industrial agriculture, large-scale mining and commercial logging as routes to economic development. In the Democratic Republic of Congo, for instance, concessions for industrial logging have been granted in areas where local communities still rely on traditional forest management practices. These extractive projects ignore indigenous conservation approaches that prioritise long-term ecosystem health over short-term revenue.
To address these challenges, conservation efforts need more than good intentions. They need mechanisms that actively shift power, allow for different ways of knowing and create space for indigenous leadership. Otherwise, integrating indigenous knowledge will remain a talking point rather than a real change in how policies are made and implemented.