The making of post-independent India has several narratives, depending on who tells it. The official or mainstream narratives often tend to dominate public discourse — reiterated through textbooks, media, films, official historiography, cultural expressions, etc. However, the narratives of the forgotten people, those sacrificed at the altar of development, deprived of their land and livelihood, forced to the margins of society, are mere footnotes in those narratives. Their life, hopes, dreams, aspirations, and pain have been crushed under the weight of the “collective good” — the national interest.
This compilation brings to you the narrative of those forgotten people, capturing significant environmental and developmental conflicts that have shaped the country in the last five decades. They highlight the tension between development and conservation, engage audiences in ongoing ecological discourse, and promote awareness and action toward sustainable practices. Most importantly, they represent the countless stories of struggle and conflict — battles fought on the frontier of land and environment, a tale of social and environmental destruction, displacement, and impoverishment, asking the question: development for whom, how, and at what cost?
Land Conflict Watch, a data portal tracking natural resources conflict in the country, has documented some 719 ongoing or recent conflicts affecting 8 million people. This is the story of mindless development pursued by the proponents of a development agenda fuelled by neoliberal policies and corporate profiteering.
From the coal mines of central India to the thermal power plants in Singrauli or on the Mundra Coast in Gujarat; from the big dam projects on the river Narmada to the coastal highways or nuclear or thermal power plants on the coasts; these conflicts unveil a complex tapestry of developmental pursuits, social justice, and ecological sustainability. They reflect the multifaceted challenges of balancing developmental imperatives with environmental conservation, reconciling the demand for natural resources with the rights of local communities, and aligning the machinery of progress with the rhythms of nature, human rights and dignity.
Refusal to grow and learn
What stands out from these essays is the fact that over the years, the issues continue to remain same. It seems as if there is a stubbornness towards not learning from past mistakes. It has been documented over the years that the construction of big dams, mining, and thermal power plants leads to large-scale forcible displacement, loss of livelihood, water and air pollution, irreparable ecological damage, health impacts, and so on. Despite this, new dams and power plants are being proposed or are at different stages of construction.
To meet the inflated needs of food, energy, and transport, mega infrastructure projects continue to be planned with impunity. The regions rich in minerals and blessed with rivers, fertile lands, rich in biodiversity are the target of this planned loot and plunder in the name of public interest and development. This is something that has happened over the years, with millions of people displaced from their land and habitat more than once.
Post-independence, India invested in building dams to justify self-sufficiency in food production and generating electricity to run mills and develop manufacturing centres. Unfortunately, these came at a cost, and despite the initial enthusiasm of the people contributing to nation-building, the affected people continued to be neglected and left behind. This is what has happened in the case of the dams of the river Narmada, where more than 50,000 families were affected, who continue to wage a struggle for justice for nearly four decades. This is also the story of the more than 5000 big dams built by India post-independence, which have displaced an estimated 50 million people over the years. This is estimated since neither the government of India nor many developmental banks, including the World Bank, which financed these dams, have kept a record of these forgotten people.
Similarly, the coal mines and thermal plants built inland and on the coasts over the years have degraded land, destroyed millions of hectares of forest, polluted rivers and land, but worse, they have uprooted so many people. The indigenous people/adivasis who dependent on these resources have been forcibly evicted, deprived of their natural habitat, and forced to move to urban slums where they have forgotten who they were. Their language, culture, and way of life have all been destroyed. Those who remain in their habitat face the same fate and repeat displacement. The story of Singrauli, the so-called energy capital of India, afflicted by the thermal plants and mines, is a zone of sacrifice where everything has been sacrificed in the name of development.
If we believed that years of struggle by people’s movements resisting these projects and the issues raised by them help move forward the planning process, then we are mistaken. Today, coastal highways keep on being built, as it is in the state of Kerala, cutting through ecologically fragile zones and biodiversity hotspots. There are several coastal highways and industrial corridors being planned across the length and breadth of the country’s coast. These will impact the lives of fishing communities and others living on the coast, capture the commons, and over a period of time pave the way for private corporations and project developers for real estate and tourism-related projects. The story of development in India and its social and environmental costs is a story that keeps repeating itself.
Challenges and the way forward
As a society, we will always need energy, food and more, but is there a way in which we can make these processes more sustainable, holistic, and less damaging to people and the environment? This is desirable more so as we stare in to the unfolding climate crisis and ensuing disasters, which is already destroying millions of lives and livelihoods and trillions in terms of economic wealth every year.
The essay on urban farming is an attempt in that direction, it tells us how we can still make amends. Unlike the Western cities, though it’s changing rapidly, Indian cities have green spaces and agricultural land that have not been converted into concrete jungles. These spaces serve as the city’s lungs and also provide food, saving millions of litres of fossil fuel used in transporting food from afar. They act as a carbon sink and digest organic waste generated within the cities, and sustain depleting flora and fauna. This can be an important initiative in the fight against the climate crisis and for the way forward as an integrated model of urbanisation. The essay on urban farming in Delhi captures some of the ongoing practices and need for integrating that national level and make it part of overall planning and growth.
However, this may not be sufficient for feeding our growing population, which requires that farmers need to be supported in times of economic stagnation, inflation, and policy changes aligned with climate commitments. Farmer unions and organisations have been protesting against forcible land acquisition, lack of appropriate prices for their labour and produce, and increased corporatisation and contract farming. Year after year, farmers are forced to take to the streets across the world, but there seems to be no remedy in sight. We know that we can’t eat data, but still, there seems to be no attempt at resolving the situation despite thousands leaving farming every year. Scenes from farmer protests project the harsh reality of their struggle and their demands. This essay is an addition to earlier essay on the farmers movements in Ritimo, even as farmers started their agitation again in Punjab, Haryana and other North Indian States in January 2024.
While the struggle for sustainable farming and the campaign for an ecological city find some resonance, the project of energy transition is throwing its own challenges. There is a growing emphasis, rightly so, on fossil fuel phaseout and the need to shift towards renewable energy. However, in the name of speed and scale, big solar parks and wind farms are being created over vast chunks of land, leading to the capture of commons and public land used by the communities. These land parcels are being acquired through often dubious means or forcibly violating the principles of free, prior, informed consent. The story of the 2,030 MW Pavagada solar park in the state of Karnataka, spread over 53 square kilometres, is one such example covered in this collection, which repeats the mistakes of big hydro and thermal power projects. It shows that the political elite and policy planners have the least regard for the lessons history has to offer us. The energy transition offers not merely a chance to think of alternative ways of energy but also of democratic ways of development planning. Alas, it’s a lost opportunity!
People’s movements, farmers, workers, and communities impacted by these developmental projects thus have no other option than to protest against them. In a situation where right-wing authoritarianism is on the rise and the State, just like always, is eager to portray activists as anti-development, the spaces for democratic dissent are shrinking further. An essay in this compilation features the attack on some of these individuals and organizations facing the brunt of state and corporate power.
These essays select a few stories but are emblematic of the developments in India and elsewhere. These developmental challenges are present in the developed world as much as in the developing world. After all, predatory capital and the extractivist model of development, now combined with surveillance capitalism, are pushing towards greater inequality within society and deeper centralisation of power. Though the way forward should be democratisation and decentralised models of development as we look for solutions to the unfolding climate crisis and decline in democratic rights globally.