Bees are more than just small, buzzing insects that we tend to swat away in panic; they are life-bringers, agricultural champions, and sacred figures of ancient mythologies. But, despite their vital role in sustaining biodiversity and food systems, bees face growing misunderstanding, fear, and even violent persecution, particularly in places like Sri Lanka where myths and misinformation overshadow ecological facts.
Lifesavers of agriculture
Bees are the unsung heroes of the agricultural world. Their tireless flight from flower to flower ensures the pollination of over 70% of the fruits, vegetables, and nuts that we consume. From apples to almonds, chilies to cucumbers, bees make our plates colourful, nutritious, and diverse. Without them, we would be left with a diet lacking not only in taste and variety but also in vital nutrients.
However, it is important to acknowledge nuance. Many of the grains that form the base of early human civilisation such as wheat, corn, soy, and rice do not require bees for pollination. These crops are either wind-pollinated or capable of self-pollination. For instance, soybeans and legumes can self-pollinate, especially after centuries of selective breeding. Corn, on the other hand, relies on the wind to disperse its pollen. This has led to a common but misleading claim that, ‘if bees disappear, humans will too’. The truth is subtler. While humanity could technically survive without bees on a diet of grains and meat, the absence of bees would mean the collapse of ecosystems and the disappearance of much of what makes our diet rich, healthy, and enjoyable.
More than that, bees are foundational to many indigenous and rural livelihoods. Their contribution goes beyond food; they are a symbol of sustainability, a source of income through honey and wax, and an agent of ecological balance.
History of beekeeping
The relationship between humans and bees spans millennia. Ancient rock art from Spain dated over 8,000 years ago shows humans collecting honey. The Egyptians domesticated bees in clay hives along the Nile, while the Greeks believed that honey was the food of the gods. In the Indian Vedic tradition, honey is not just food; it is a medicine, and a sacred substance used in offerings and rituals. Closer to home, in Sri Lanka, ancient texts such as the Mahavamsa mention honey as part of royal diets and Buddhist almsgiving. Traditional Ayurveda in Sri Lanka has long used honey as a base for medicinal preparations, believed to aid digestion, heal wounds, and improve vitality. Even today, forest-dwelling communities such as the Vedda people collect wild honey, maintaining a respectful and sustainable relationship with bees that predates colonial history.
What makes honey bees particularly remarkable is their social intelligence. With complex communication systems, the division of labour, and defensive behaviours that sometimes result in death for the worker bee, their colonies reflect a level of collective coordination that borders on the divine. In many mythologies, bees were believed to be messengers between the living and the underworld – a sacred insect that bridged realms.
Perhaps, in ancient cultures, bees were not feared but revered precisely because they embodied qualities of sacrifice, industry, and mystical productivity. Their honey was treated as gold, both nutritionally and spiritually. This sacred view is almost entirely lost today.
Rise of misinfo
In the modern age, our understanding of bees has often been twisted by misinformation. Popular media, especially in South Asia, tends to conflate bee attacks with incidents caused by wasps or hornets, particularly the infamous ‘bambara’ (giant tropical hornet) in Sri Lanka. Internationally, footage of aggressive Africanised ‘killer bees’ has led to a panic-based narrative that all bees are dangerous.
In reality, honey bees are not inherently aggressive. They only attack when their hives are threatened, and they die shortly after stinging; a heavy cost that deters unnecessary conflict. Unlike wasps, bees do not prey on humans or food waste, nor do they repeatedly sting.
Yet, in Sri Lanka, fear runs deep. Families panic at the sight of a hive forming in the eaves of their homes. Myths abound that a dozen bee stings is as dangerous as snake venom, or that a hive in your garden is a death sentence. These narratives, often passed down through generations, lead people to burn hives or call exterminators. The irony is tragic – we are destroying the very creatures that keep our crops alive and our wildflowers blooming.
Bees and the SL psyche
The Sri Lankan fear of bees is a reflection of a deeper problem – our cultural distance from nature. In a society where urbanisation is rapidly replacing green spaces, and where many children grow up without ever seeing a pollinator in action, nature is viewed with suspicion rather than awe.
The issue is compounded by sensationalised media coverage. Incidents of wasp attacks in places like Sigiriya are routinely misreported as bee attacks. This not only spreads fear but also delegitimises efforts by beekeepers and conservationists trying to educate the public.
Moreover, the limited representation of bees in local folklore and the absence of positive narratives around beekeeping have created a vacuum. Unlike elephants or peacocks, bees have not found a place in our national symbols or school books. When children are taught to fear rather than understand, it becomes incredibly difficult to build a culture of coexistence.
Reclaiming sacredness of bees
To turn the tide, we must rewrite the narrative. We must remind ourselves and our communities that bees are not pests; they are partners in survival.
One powerful way to do this is by reconnecting with ancient traditions. Across the world, bees have been worshipped. In Minoan Crete, priestesses wore pendants shaped like bees. In Hinduism, the bee is associated with the goddess Bhramari Devi, who embodies the power of sound and vibration. There is no reason that Sri Lanka, with its deep spiritual heritage, cannot reintroduce a cultural reverence for bees.
Beekeeping itself can be rebranded; not just as a rural livelihood but as a sacred act of care and conservation. Honey can be promoted not just as a sweetener but as a medicinal, ethical product. Schools can host ‘Bee Days’ where students observe hives (safely), taste different honeys, and learn about pollination through interactive play.
Importantly, policy and protection must follow. Local councils must stop treating hives as infestations and instead consult with trained beekeepers before any removal. Community awareness programmes need to address myths head-on, using science and storytelling to build empathy.
What happens if the bees go?
If the current trends continue, the loss will not just be ecological; it will be cultural and economic. Without bees, our lush mangoes, watermelons, beans, and even medicinal herbs will suffer. Farmers will be forced to hand-pollinate or lose their yield entirely. Export crops could decline. Rural incomes will shrink, and food prices will rise.
In the long run, it is the poorest communities, those least responsible for the decline of biodiversity, who will suffer the most from the disappearance of pollinators. And, it is these same communities who have the most to gain from ethical beekeeping, ecosystem protection, and agricultural resilience.
Bees are more than just pollinators; they are cultural symbols, ecological engineers, and lifelines for our food systems. The fear and misinformation surrounding them must be actively unlearned, especially in countries like Sri Lanka where their presence is misunderstood and undervalued. Reintroducing a sacred relationship with bees, through education, cultural revival, and community engagement is not just necessary for conservation; it is a moral and spiritual imperative.
Let us not be the generation that burned the last hive. Let us be the one that brought the bees back home.
(The writer is an electronics engineer with a background in information technology and sustainability)
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The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication