Why I Should Be Tolerant (Sunita Narain)
Why I Should Be Tolerant (Sunita Narain)
Why I Should Be Tolerant (Sunita Narain)
Down To Earth
FORTNIGHTLY ON POLITICS OF DEVELOPMENT,
ENVIRONMENT AND HEALTH, SINCE 1992
Down To Earth
FORTNIGHTLY ON POLITICS OF DEVELOPMENT,
ENVIRONMENT AND HEALTH, SINCE 1992
The designations of persons and officials mentioned in the book are what
they held at the time of the original reports.
ISBN: 978-81-86906-94-1
Price: `350
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© 2016 Centre for Science and Environment
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194 Index
nological solutions that can be suggested to people who are battling for survival. In
this environmentalism, there is only one answer: to reduce needs and to increase
efficiency for every inch of land needed, every tonne of mineral and every drop of
water used. An environmentalism of this kind will demand new arrangements for
sharing benefits with local communities so that they are persuaded to part with
their resources for common development. It will demand new paths to growth.
I say this because the environmental movement of the relatively rich and
affluent is still clearly looking for small answers to big problems. Today, everyone
is saying that we can deal with climate change if we adopt measures such as energy
efficiency and some new technologies. The message is simple: managing climate
change will not hurt lifestyles or economic growth; a win-win situation where we
will benefit from green technologies and new business.
Years before India became independent, Mahatma Gandhi was asked a
simple question: would he like free India to be as “developed” as the country of
its colonial masters, Britain? “No,” said Gandhi, stunning his interrogator, who
argued that Britain was the model to emulate. He replied: “If it took Britain the
rape of half the world to be where it is, how many worlds would India need?”
Gandhi’s wisdom confronts us today. Now that India and China are threat-
ening to join the league of the rich, the environmental hysteria over their growth
should make us think. Think not just about the impact of these populated nations
on the resources of our planet but, again, indeed all over again, of the econom-
ic paradigm of growth that has led much less populated nations pillaging and
degrading the resources of Earth.
The Western model of growth that India and China wish most feverishly
to emulate is intrinsically toxic. It uses huge resources and generates enormous
waste. The industrialised world has learnt to mitigate the adverse impacts of
wealth generation by investing huge amounts of money. But the industrialised
world has never succeeded in containing those impacts: it remains many steps
behind the problems it has created.
The icing on the cake is a hard fact: the industrialised world may have cleaned
up its cities, but its emissions have put the entire world’s climatic system at risk
and made millions living on the margins of survival even more vulnerable and
poor because of climate change. In other words, the West not only continues to
chase the problems it creates, it also externalises the problems of growth onto
others, those less fortunate and less able to deal with its excesses.
It is this model of growth the poor world now wishes to adopt. And why not?
The world has not shown any other way that can work. In fact, it preaches to us
that business is profitable only when it searches for new solutions to old problems.
It tells us its way of wealth creation is progress and it tells us that its way of life is
non-negotiable.
But I believe the poor world must do better. The South—India, China, and
all their neighbours—has no choice, but to reinvent the development trajectory.
When the industrialised world went through its intensive growth period, its per
capita income was much higher than the South’s today. The price of oil was much
lower, which meant growth was cheaper. Now the South is adopting the same
model: highly capital-intensive and so socially divisive; material and energy-in-
tensive and so highly polluting. But the South does not have the capacity to make
investments critical to equity and sustainability. It cannot temper the adverse
impacts of growth. This is deadly.
There is no doubt we live in an increasingly insecure world. Indeed, the state
of insecurity in the world is made more deliberate, more wilful, because of the
intentional and unintentional actions of nation-states and governments in the
name of development and global justice. So, if the rich world is increasingly para-
noid about its defence from the failed, bankrupt and despotic states of the devel-
oping world, the poor are insecure because they are increasingly marginalised
and made destitute by the policies of the rich. The challenge of climate change is
adding a new level of insecurity for the world’s people. It is also equally clear that
the business-as-usual paradigm of growth will lead the world towards a vortex of
insecure people, communities and nations.
It is here that the countries of the South face even greater challenges. They
will need to rebuild security by rebuilding local food, water and livelihood security
in all villages and cities. And in doing this, they will have to reinvent the capital and
material-intensive growth paradigm of the industrialised North, which deepens
the divide between the rich and the poor. They will have to do things differently in
their own backyards. But, more importantly, these countries will have to become
the voice of the voiceless, so that they can demand changes in the rules of globali-
sation in the interest of all.
Sustainable development needs to be understood as a function of deepened
democracy. It is not about technology, but about a political framework, which
will devolve power and give people—the victims of environmental degradation—
I remember how I first learnt about global warming. It was in the late
1980s. My colleague Anil Agarwal and I were searching for policies
and practices to regenerate wasted common lands. We quickly learnt
to look beyond trees, at ways to deepen democracy, so these commons
—in India, forests are mostly owned by government agencies, but it is
the poor who use them—could be regenerated. It became clear that
without community participation, afforestation was not possible. For
people to be involved, the rules for engagement had to be respected. To
be respected, the rules had to be fair.
In the same period, we had Maneka Gandhi as the environment
minister (1989-91), and data released by the World Resources Institute,
a prestigious US research institution, completely convinced her it was
the poor who contributed substantially to global warming—they did
“unsustainable” things like growing rice or keeping animals. Anil and I
were pulled into this debate when a flummoxed chief minister of a hill
state called us. He had received a government circular that asked him to
prevent people from keeping animals. “How do I do this?” he asked us.
“Do the animals of the poor really disrupt the world’s climate system?”
We were equally foxed, and outraged. It seemed absurd. We had been
arguing since quite a while that the poor were victims of environmental
degradation. Here they were now, complete villains. How?
With this question, we embarked on our climate research journey to
understand the complex tapestry of climate politics. We began to grasp
climate change issues, and quickly learnt that there wasn’t much difference
between managing a local forest and the global climate. Both were com-
mon property resources. What was needed was a property rights frame-
work which encouraged cooperation. We argued in the following way:
One, the world needed to differentiate between the emissions of the
poor—from subsistence paddy cultivation or animal rearing—and that
of the rich—from, say, cars. Survival emissions weren’t, and couldn’t be
as Stern says, the cost will be a fraction of what we will need to spend
in the future. The fact is ghgs have a very long life in the atmosphere.
Gases released, say, since the late 1800s when the Western world was
beginning to industrialise, are still up there. This is the natural debt that
needs to be repaid, like the financial debt of nations.
It was for this reason the Kyoto Protocol, agreed in 1997, set emis-
sion limits on industrialised countries—they had to reduce so that the
developing world could increase. It is a matter of record the emissions
of these countries continued to rise. As a result, today there is even less
atmospheric space for the developing world to occupy. It is also evident
the industrial world did nothing; it knew it needed to fill the space as
quickly as possible. Now we have just crumbs to fight over.
It is also no surprise, then, that Western academics have been call-
ing upon the developing world to take on emission reduction targets
as there is no space left for them to grow. The logic is simple, though
twisted and ingenious. No space left to grow. Ergo, “you cannot ask for
the right to pollute,” they tell the developing world.
So what we have is a pincer movement. The already-industrialised
countries do not want to set binding interim targets to reduce their
emissions drastically. They want to change the base-year from when
emission reduction will be counted—2005 or 2007, instead of 1990. This
means two things. One, they want to continue to grow (occupy space) in
the coming years. Two, the space they have already occupied—as their
emissions vastly increased between 1990 and 2015—should be forgiven.
All this when we know meeting the 450 parts per million (ppm) target
requires space to be vacated fast—they must peak within the next few
years and then reduce drastically by at least 40 per cent by 2020 over
1990 levels. But why do this, when you can muscle your way into space?
The issue is about sharing that growth between nations and between
people. The fact is that global economic wealth is highly skewed. Put in
climate terms, this means that global emissions are also highly skewed.
The question now is whether the world will share the right to emit (or
pollute) or will it freeze inequities. The question is if the rich world,
which has accumulated a huge “natural debt” overdrawing on its share
of the global commons, will repay it so that the poorer world can grow,
to improve if they were compensated for it. The question then is why
can we not move ahead?
The answer lies in the way we have framed the questions. It has been
lost in the obduracy of the US government, which has never accepted
the need to build a fair and cooperative agreement to combat climate
change. The US, which has historically been the world’s largest contrib-
utor to climate change and whose emissions continue to grow, says it
will not join an agreement which does not involve India and China. The
result has been a weak and compromised agreement called Kyoto, which
allows renegade polluters—the US and Australia to opt out.
This is equally true of the equally energy-profligate rich of our coun-
try. They also will do little to avert climate change. Clearly, if it is going
to be in the interest of the most marginalised to demand effective action,
then the effort has to be to give them a voice. Give poor people the fora
to shout and scream, so that the rich everywhere will have to provide for
space, and the poor secure their present and future.
Take Odisha for example. The Centre for Science and Environment
had published a briefing paper for state legislators, explaining how vul-
nerable and disaster-prone the state had become—reeling under vicious
cycles of drought, flood, cyclones, hurricanes and heat waves, and even a
bitter cold wave. Thus, it would be right and just for the Odisha govern-
ment to demand that the Central government takes the US to task for not
doing enough on climate change. And precisely for this reason, it would
also be perfect for the Odisha government to demand that the poor, who
are underutilising their share of atmospheric space, have the right to build
their lives. It is their inalienable right. It is the government’s responsibility.
But the worst thing about globalisation is that not only is it leading to a
loss of national and local decision-making powers, it is also leading to a loss
of control over our leaders’ attention span. It is this globalisation of politics,
where leaders find it easier to externalise public attention by focusing on
terrorism, war and in case of India, Pakistan, that is letting them get away
with murder. How else can you explain that in a democracy, when more
than 100,000 people can die due to extreme climate events in the last
15 years, there is neither a whimper nor a squeal? The scenario is business
as usual. The scenario is only more indifferent than ever. n
One may ask: how does the world measure the “increased” frequency
of extreme weather? After all weather is always variable. Meteorological
departments across the world keep records of changing weather events
and patterns. Their records can point out similar events in the past when
there was a similar cloudburst or frost or cyclone or freak snow. How
does all this add to climate change? The fact is change will happen in our
present and our future. Since the world is only now beginning to see the
impacts of rising temperature, data over several years does not exist to
establish a trend in extreme weather events. Science, at best, can use a
model to predict impacts of global temperature rise on climate.
Even if extreme events are now being seen and recorded, how does
one know this relates to human-made emissions? All this is further
complicated by the fact that multiple factors affect weather and another
set of multiple factors affects its severity and impact. In other words,
the causes of devastation following extreme events—like droughts or
floods—are often complicated and involve mismanagement of resources
and poor planning. For instance, we know floods are caused by unusually
high rainfall. But it is also clear we have destroyed drainage in floodplains
through utter mismanagement. We have built embankments believing
we can control the river only to find the protection broken. Worse, we
built habitations in floodplains. The devastating recent floods in Kashmir
and Chennai are stark reminders.
This complication hurts people but helps climate deniers. They have
a field day saying there is no link between variations in weather and cli-
mate change. For instance, when Washington DC had both heat wave
and extreme cold waves in a year, a Republican senator, known for his
strong views against climate change, built an igloo in a shopping mall.
This was to mock climate change believers because it was cold, not hot.
He could not read the signs. And he is not alone. US media has been
squeamish about making the connection between extreme weather
events and climate change. It is difficult to say whether this is because
the climate skeptics have got to them, or because they are unable to
understand the nuances of scientific messages.
Climate scientists like Myles Allen of University of Oxford in Britain
will tell you that the world must begin to differentiate between exter-
atmosphere and oceans have warmed; the amount of snow and ice has
diminished; and the concentrations of ghgs released because of human
activity have increased manifold. That is what should frighten us. For
the Indian subcontinent, there is news and it is not good. For the first
time, the ipcc has included a special mention of the region’s true finance
minister, the monsoon. Till recently, most regional models did not take
into account this capricious phenomenon, which rules our lives, so there
was little knowledge about how precipitation patterns would behave in
an increasingly warmer world.
Now the models project the following: there is medium confidence
(ipcc terminology used when models predict less than high certainty)
that Indian summer monsoon circulation will weaken, but will be com-
pensated by increased moisture content in the atmosphere because of
warming oceans, ultimately leading to more precipitation. More rain is
predicted, but worryingly in fewer days. The monsoon, says ipcc, will
probably be most impacted by extremes as compared to elsewhere. It
also says monsoon onset is likely to become earlier and retreat very like-
ly delayed, leading to longer rainy seasons. While ipcc juggles with the
degree of likeliness—its definition being that very likely signifies 90-100
per cent certainty and likely 66-100 per cent certainty—science theories
are being enacted in the real world. In India, we are seeing right now
how the monsoon has become unpredictable.
It is time science led to action. At the global level, nations have to act
to reduce emissions—drastically, urgently and keeping in mind issues of
equity. At the national level, our agenda must be to cope with extreme,
unseasonal and variable rainfall. This means becoming obsessive about
water management. The fact is that climate change is not all bad news
for us because it will rain more, not less. The key is to learn to hold
the water, store it and recharge groundwater with it. It will also mean
planning better to forecast extreme rain events so that we can mitigate
the damage like the 2013 Uttarakhand calamity. It will mean valuing
the raindrop. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi was only half-right
when he said India needs toilets not temples. In an increasingly warmer
world, India’s only temples can be the ditches, drains, lakes and rivers
that can hold the rainwater, and not let it cause floods or droughts. n
tures have increased by just 0.8°C, our monsoons are showing signs of
extreme variability leading to floods and droughts. Then how can a weak
and ineffective deal on climate change be good for us?
But the spin doctors want us to believe otherwise. The Western
media is hailing Cancun as the much-needed breakthrough. That’s
because the Cancun deal protects the interests of the rich polluters. It
is their prize.
The fact is we hate being hated in the rich man’s world. Cancun was
about our need to be dealmakers on their behalf—even if it costs us the
Earth. However, after four years, the developing world came to know
about it for sure. China joined the US to redefine the equity principle
throwing the planet into the clutches of climate change. n
In 2015, the word “tolerance” almost assumed the status of the fabled
Holy Grail. Though mostly debated from religious and ideological per-
spectives in public and political domains, I have often wondered how
perfectly the word “tolerance” or its opposite “intolerance” described the
state of environment and environmentalism in the 21st century. And I
am sure in the coming years, this intolerance will only grow—unless we
recognise it and make the changes we need.
I was in Paris participating in the much-talked-about 21st meeting
of the Conference of Parties (cop-21) to the United Nations Framework
Convention on Climate Change (unfccc) in December 2015. I will deal
with the agreement the meeting delivered later in the essay. But my days
in Paris before the agreement was finally adopted availed me the opportu-
nity to witness and suffer intolerance of a different but devastating kind.
That is the climate change intolerance. Two days to the endgame at
the Paris conference, there was little breakthrough on the contentious
issues that eluded an agreement, but still everybody was clear that there
would be an agreement. This confidence alerted me to the grave intoler-
ance brewing within the world community, supposedly fighting together
to rescue the only liveable planet we know from the edge of a climate
change-driven catastrophe. Let me explain.
For the first time since the beginning of climate negotiations, the
erstwhile climate renegades were in control of the dialogue, narrative
and the audience. The Umbrella Group is a grouping led by the US and
includes the biggest rich polluters, such as Australia and Japan, who have
always been in the dock for not taking action to combat climate change.
In Paris, these countries went through an unbelievable image makeover.
They were now the good guys. They wanted the world to be ambitious
in meeting not just the 2°C temperature threshold, but were pushing for
even staying below 1.5°C. They said they are pushing because they care
for the small island nations, which will suffer horrendous consequences
Water is life and sewage tells its life story—how urban India is soaking
up water, polluting rivers and drowning in its own excreta. It has a seem-
ingly simple plot: it only asks where Indian cities get their water from and
where does their waste go. But this is not just a question or answer about
water, pollution and waste. It is about the way Indian cities (and perhaps
other parts of the world that are similarly placed) will develop. It is about
the paradigm of growth that’s sustainable and affordable.
Urbanisation in India, relentless as it is, will only grow. How should
the country manage its water needs so that it does not drown in its own
excreta? What has amazed me is the lack of data, research and under-
standing of this issue in the country. This is when water concerns all.
People in cities get water in their houses; they discharge waste; and they
see their rivers die. But they don’t make the connection, between flush-
ing toilet and dying rivers, as the previous essay argues. It is as if they do
not want to know. But they should.
This may be a reflection of current governance systems, where water
and waste are government’s business, and within that the business of a
lowly water and sanitation bureaucracy? Or is it simply a reflection of
Indian society’s extreme arrogance—it believes it can fix it all as and
when it gets rich; that water scarcity and waste are only temporary prob-
lems; that once it gets rich, infrastructure will be built, water will flow
and the embarrassing stink of excreta in cities will just disappear.
It is clear Indians know very little about the water they use and the
waste they discharge. We at the Centre for Science and Environment
had to collect data the hard way—city by city, ferreting out the material
from government offices, which are rarely visited by researchers for the
Seventh Citizens’ Report that profiled 71 cities on their water-sewage
journey. Each city is mapped to know more about its past, current and
future water footprint. Each city is mapped to know more about where
the waste generated from such use of water goes. It is a geography lesson
country forces political leaders to keep water and waste pricing afforda-
ble for large sections of urban populations. In this situation, private
investment also looks for an easy way out. Their answer is to invest in
water services and leave the costly business of cleaning up the waste to
government agencies.
In the meantime, the use of sewer systems would have totally des-
troyed the aquatic ecosystems in the developing world, posing enor-
mous threats both to public health and aquatic biodiversity. In India, we
don’t even have to look a few years ahead. We already see the signs of
this “hydrocide”. Literally, no small or medium river today is clean. Every
river that passes through a city or a town becomes a stinking sewer.
While our scientists think about going to the moon, the toilet is
not in their vision at all. There is absolutely no thinking about the need
to find environment-friendly sewage systems in our country. We will
need massive investments in r&d for non-sewerage alternatives. While
investments in sewers run into crores of rupees every year despite all the
problems they create, research investments in non-sewage alternatives
hardly exist. n
tions would demand more water to flush the underground drains, which
the administration cannot and will not provide? Also, if the amount of
wastewater—80 per cent of water supplied is discharged—doubles, per-
haps triples, would this not make stps ineffective?
Let me now contrast this official meeting with another I attended in
a music hall in a small town in Germany, where some 400 people had
gathered to discuss ecological sanitation. The conversation—highly
technical and involved—was about building urine-diverting and other
systems, so that nutrients in human excreta could be returned to the
land, and not pollute waterways. Waste is rich in fertilisers—for every
250 gm of grain consumed, some 7.5 gm of nitrates, phosphorous and
potassium is excreted. Human kidneys are nitrogen factories—urine is a
cheap and rich source of nitrogen and does not contain pathogens found
in faecal waste. Emerging technologies are using this understanding to
their advantage. They separate out the faecal and urine streams, drasti-
cally reduce water consumption, treat and recycle waste to be used as
compost. The guiding principle is: close the nutrient loop.
This approach is leading to technological innovation—from urine
separating dry toilets to highly sophisticated electric and vacuum toilets.
Fascinating science. Fascinating technologies. But as I learnt, I realised
that the approach is not new. This is the traditional system of waste
management—dry human waste composted and reused on the land—
that is being revived under a new name.
The problem is that, in India, traditional waste management has
dehumanised and degraded the individual handling this task. The
problem also is that traditional technology—rudimentary at most
times—could be unclean and unsafe. But should we throw the baby out
with the bathwater? Clearly, the principles of traditional sanitation—if
not its practices—were sound and sustainable. These were built on the
extremely modern concepts of recycling and reuse. Is it so impossible to
re-engineer the traditional composting toilet for today’s modern indus-
trial world? But this would require Indian scientists to think outside the
wretched caste system of their lives and minds are mired in. India has a
massive and well-funded scientific paraphernalia. But how many scien-
tists are working on the toilet? None. Not even one. n
{ A water-excreta account
Breaking down the economics of water and sewage
How will India supply drinking water in cities? Many argue the prob-
lem is not inadequate water. The problem is the lack of investment in
building infrastructure in cities and the lack of managerial capacities to
operate the systems, once created. This line of thought then leads logi-
cally to policy reform, to invite private investment and hand over public
water utilities to private parties to operate.
As a result, public-private partnerships have become the buzzword
in water management circles. The problem is that this strategy assumes
too much, knows too little. It has no clue about the political economy of
water or sewage in India (and with other similar countries). It, therefore,
makes a simple assumption that if water is correctly priced—what is
known as full cost pricing—it would facilitate investment from the pri-
vate sector and provide a solution to the water crisis facing vast regions
of the developing world.
As a result, municipal water reforms have become synonymous with
the World Bank promoted scheme of 24x7supply of constant water so
that pressure in water pipes will reduce leakage from adjoining sewage
pipes and reduce the enormous health burden caused by dirty and pol-
luted water. In the 24x7 water distribution scheme, governments hive
off parts of the city water distribution to private contractors. The key
presumption is the contractor will reduce water distribution losses cur-
rently estimated to be between 40-50 per cent of water supplied in our
cities (more on this in the essay on water).
The reasoning is impeccable, except that it forgets the cost of the
system has to be affordable, so that it can be sustainable. In India,
municipalities rarely compile water and sewage accounts. But our recent
research in compiling city-level data shows a pattern difficult to miss.
Almost all the 72 cities we surveyed are struggling to balance their
accounts and are failing. The one expense that is killing them is the
cost of electricity to pump water from long distances to the city and to
pump water to each house, and then to pump the waste from the house
to the stps. Bhubaneswar, for instance, brings its water from the river
Mahanadi, some 30 km from the city, and spends 56 per cent of costs
on electricity. Pune, which has invested in creating a citywide water dis-
tribution network, spends roughly R25 crore annually to pump roughly
800 million litres daily of water it supplies to its people.
Thus, when cities search for new sources of water, they rarely con-
sider what it will cost them to bring the water to the city. The plan is sold
as an infrastructure project. The costs are paid for as capital expenditure.
But what is not considered is how the project and the length of the
pipeline or canal will impact the city’s finances, and indeed, whether the
city has the money to spend, month after month, on its electricity bills
to pump the water. What is also not considered is how the city, which
spends higher and higher costs on electricity, will spend on the repair
and maintenance of the pipeline. And, if it cannot, will it be able to sup-
ply water to all? In other words, can it afford to subsidise all and not just
the water-rich? But this is yet half of the sum. The other half involves not
water, but the waste the water will create. The agency will have to price
the cost of taking back the waste: the more the water supplied, the more
the waste generated, conveying it, and then treating. More costs.
Even this is not the full story. If the agency cannot pay for the sew-
age disposal system, its waste will pollute more water, either the water
of its downstream city or its own groundwater. Remember, also, we all
live downstream. The cost of pollution makes water economics more
difficult. For instance Agra, located downstream of Delhi and Mathura,
spends huge amounts of its water budget on buying chlorine to clean
water. Now it wants to get another source of water. How long will that
stay clean is another question.
The fact is no municipality can do what economists preach: raise
prices to reflect the full costs. Instead, they spend money on supply
and as costs go up, they increase the subsidy to the users or supply less
to most. But such pricing of water and waste is incomplete without its
political economy. For, who gets the water and how much? In answering
that, you will learn the political economy of water and excreta where the
rich, and not the poor, are subsidised in urban India. n
On August 15, 2014, speaking from the ramparts of the Red Fort, Prime
Minister Narendra Modi made a very important announcement—his
government would ensure “there will be no school in India without sepa-
rate toilets for boys and girls” by the next Independence Day. Exactly one
year later, the Ministry of Human Resource Development announced
that this target has been met and that some 417,000 toilets had been built
in 261,000 schools.
This is no mean achievement, especially given the dire urgency and
importance of this task. The fact is that lack of sanitation facilities is a
reason for high dropout rates in schools—particularly of girls. It is also
linked to higher disease burden. It is a basic human need—as basic as
eating or breathing—and needs to be secured for human dignity. Most
critically, toilets in schools are potential game-changers in society: quite
simply, children learn the value of personal hygiene and bring the mes-
sage home.
School toilets are harbingers of tomorrow’s India. So, it must be asked
if the target has really been met or is this just about numbers. To know
this, the related question is: are the toilets that have been built at this
breakneck speed in use? Do they have running water; is there provision
for regular cleaning and maintenance? Only then can we boast that the
task has been accomplished.
The government, while claiming 100 per cent success, says that it
has repaired some 151,000 toilets and built the rest. On its website, it
also explains that if anybody would like to volunteer to build toilets
in schools, then it can provide designs. The cost of each toilet ranges
between R80,000 and 130,000. In addition, it says that a hand pump—in
cases where there is no piped water—and water tank would be needed,
costing R80,000, and another R20,000 per year would be required for
maintenance. The original plan was that corporate India would scale
new heights and build these toilets. That has not happened. Private com-
panies have been miserly and public sector undertakings are struggling
to meet their school toilet commitments.
Funds, however, have never been the constraint. The last govern-
ment’s Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan—a scheme to enforce the right to uni-
versal primary education—includes substantial money for civil works
to build school infrastructure, including toilets. In February, 2015, the
government extended the provision to include reconstruction of dys-
functional toilets as well. It is also to the credit of the government that it
did not lose sight of the importance of this task.
The Prime Minister’s Office, it is said, monitored week-by-week
progress. The deadline was clearly on everybody’s mind. Some 2,850
toilets were built each month between August 2014 and March 2015. As
the deadline drew closer, construction moved to feverish pace. Between
April and August, some 100,000 toilets were built each month. This, in
itself, is not bad. It could be that the government ramped up its capacity;
it wanted to ensure it reached its goal.
But it is exactly because of all this that we must ask again: are the
toilets functional? Frankly, there is no information about this in any
report of the government. But media reportage from across the country
suggests there is still a long way to go before we can talk about total
sanitation, even in schools. This is not surprising. There is enough data
and experience to tell us that just installing the hardware is not sufficient
to ensure a toilet’s functionality. The lack of water is a major concern.
India’s water programme has seen that even as settlements are “reached”
with supply, through hand pumps or wells, the number of unreached
settlements goes up. The water dries up, hand pumps get broken and
pipes collapse.
Same is the case with sanitation—toilets are built, but either never
used or become dysfunctional. More importantly, there is the matter
of where the waste goes and how it is treated. So, building a receptacle
to collect human excreta is only a small part of the access to sanitation.
We know, however, that school toilets are an easier part of the sani-
tation challenge. Schools have space for building toilets; ownership and
control is clear and maintenance can be ensured. However, we still need
a plan to make sure it happens. Unless this is done, the ministry cannot
say that it has met its target. In fact, what is happening could have the
reverse effect. Between August 2014 and 2015, toilets have been built
using funds allocated to the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan. But in the Union
Budget, 2015, money for this scheme has been cut. Now the question
is: how do schools plan to maintain these facilities? Who will hold them
accountable and how will this be reported?
The fear I have is now that the task is shown as completed—it is
checked and off the agenda—there will be little attention to the crucial
detail that is everything between success and failure. We do not need
just toilets, but working toilets, which are used and cleaned. This is what
total sanitation is all about. We need to re-learn it. n
system for faecal sludge. This is where the real rub lies. The fact is that
this sludge is nutrient rich. Today, the global nitrogen cycle is being
destroyed because we take human excreta, which is rich in nutrients and
dispose it in water. In this case, we can return the human excreta back to
land, use it as fertiliser and reverse the sanitation cycle. The faecal sludge,
after treatment, can be given to farmers and used as organic compost.
Or, it can be treated and mixed with other organic waste—like kitchen
waste—and used for biogas, or to manufacture fuel pellets or ethanol.
The technologies exist.
But for all this to happen, the nation must know: where do its flushed
excreta go? Ask and find out. n
cookstoves are back. This time, on the world stage. Science has discov-
ered black carbon—soot—is a key contributor to climate change; these
particles warm the air; when they settle on glaciers, the latter melt. So
now, soot from chulhas that poor households use—burning wood,
twigs and cowdung—stands indicted for climate change. A bill has been
introduced in the US Congress requiring the country’s environment
protection agency to regulate black carbon and direct aid to black car-
bon reduction projects abroad, including introducing chulhas in some
20 million homes.
Chulhas—cookstoves for poor women who collect sticks, twigs and
leaves to cook meals—are today at the centre of failing international
action. Women are breathing toxic emissions from stoves and these
emissions are adding to the climate change burden of the world. The
2010 Global Burden of Disease Report established that indoor air pol-
lution from cookstoves is a primary cause of disease and death in South
Asia. As many as 1.04 million premature deaths and 31.4 million disabil-
ity adjusted life years (dalys)—a measure of years lost due to ill-health,
disability or early death—are caused by exposure to biomass burning in
poorly ventilated homes.
But what has spurred action is the science that there is a connection
between local air and global air pollution. The particles formed during
incomplete combustion—in diesel cars and cookstoves—are seen to be
powerful “climate forcers” because they absorb light and convert it into
heat. It has also been found that these particles or aerosols interact with
clouds and affect rain patterns.
Moreover, particulate matter or black carbon is short-lived. Its life
span in the atmosphere is three to eight days, unlike carbon dioxide,
which has a life span of 80 to 100 years. So, combating emissions brings
quick results to an increasingly over-heated planet, even though their
impacts are more regional and local. The current discourse on climate
change is focused on these short-lived climate forcers as a way ahead.
This is not to say that science is completely in agreement on the
matter of how serious is the contribution of particulate or black carbon
to global climate change. This is because there are good aerosols which
cool the planet because they reflect light, and bad aerosols that warm
the planet.
But what is emerging is that the good or bad could well depend on
the source of pollution. While open burning or biomass burnt in cook-
stoves produces particles with a higher proportion of organic carbon
that scatters sunlight, emissions from fossil fuels have a higher propor-
tion of black carbon, which absorbs light and forces heating. Seen this
way, the use of low-sulphur diesel has the highest net positive radiative
forcing—it warms, not cools.
Politics of particles, therefore, differentiates between survival emis-
sions from the cookstoves of the poor and the luxury emissions of suvs
of the rich. The fact is, however, that though many countries like India
(and parts of China and Africa) may have modernised, the bulk of cook-
ing in villages is still done using firewood and twigs.
Globally, it is estimated that 2.67 billion people still rely on biomass
for cooking food, with 80 per cent of Sub-Saharan Africa and 66 per
cent of Indians using this inefficient and polluting fuel. This adds up to
roughly half the developing world and 40 per cent of the world. Even in
2030, the World Energy Outlook report estimates that 43 per cent of the
developing world (33 per cent of the world’s population) will continue
to cook on biomass. Even in fast growing China where 33 per cent use
biomass, it is estimated that by 2030, 19 per cent will continue on this
fuel. The report also points out that “there is evidence that where local
prices have adjusted to recent international energy prices, the shift to
cleaner, more efficient use of energy for cooking has actually slowed
down or even reversed”.
In India, Census 2011 shows that 75 per cent of rural households
continue to use biomass and dung to cook, as against 21 per cent of
urban Indian households. In addition, data from the National Sample
Survey Office (nsso) on energy sources of Indian households for
cooking and lighting reveals that nothing has changed in the past two
decades. In 1993-94, as many as 78 per cent households in rural India
used biomass as cooking fuel and in 2009-10, 76 per cent used this fuel.
Therefore, in this period, when urban India moved to lpg (from 30 to
64 per cent), rural India remained where it was, cooking on highly inef-
ficient and dirty stoves.
ket had gone down in these two decades, but total quantity had increased.
l The total firewood—twigs and logs—used for household energy
vey found that between the two decades, the percentage of households
collecting firewood from forests had halved. Instead, firewood was com-
ing from farms and other lands.
Analysing data from other studies, Anil found that the other fire-
wood crisis had been averted because people had gone in for tree plan-
tation on private land and had started using exotic “weed” trees such as
Prosopis juliflora. People were not dependent on forests for firewood
needs and, therefore, large-scale forest destruction (as predicted in the
1970s and 1980s) had not happened. The 2011 State of Forest Report,
published by the Forest Survey of India, corroborates this. It estimates
that in 2010, the total fuelwood used was 216 million tonnes, but of this
only 60 million tonnes—or 27 per cent—came from forests. The rest
came from private lands or wastelands. “All this evidence points that
people have averted the ecological crisis through a rational response
of community and individual action. But very little is studied or under-
stood of what people have done and at what cost,” Anil wrote in 1999.
Since then even fewer studies have been done on the firewood
demand for household energy use. But what is emerging from the scat-
tered and limited studies is that in many parts of the country (perhaps
also the developing world) people make rational and careful choices
of multiple sources of cooking energy fuel. They use a combination of
biomass, expensive and often unavailable lpg and even kerosene to cook
depending on the food type and cost involved.
But unfortunately, energy experts discount these non-commercial
sources. So, little is known of their use and little can be then understood
about policy options that would work for this half of the world’s people.n
a few years ago). Just one block of Chhattisgarh, Dabra, has nine thermal
projects in a 10 km radius. mous have been signed for 49 projects in
Janjgir-Champa district of Chhattisgarh. This madness must stop.
Three, India needs to enhance the capacity of environmental regulators,
so that they take correct and clear decisions. Projects need more careful
scrutiny, and the assessment must have credibility in people’s eyes.
We must first realise the need to change the game of development.
Only then will there be light, as the next essay points out. n
We were standing in the only street of this small village called Mohda.
Located in the forested region of Chhattisgarh, the village had no access
to the road and markets. The women of the village surrounded me.
They wanted me to know that malaria was a serious problem for them.
They wanted something to be done about it. I was taken aback because
we were talking about solar energy—the state government had set up
a small power station in the village, and we were there to learn more
about it. “What’s the connection?” I asked. Pat came the answer, “Don’t
you see that we need fans at night so that we can drive away the deadly
pest?” We don’t often notice that electricity is one intervention in the
fight against malaria.
“So, why don’t you get a fan—after all, you have a solar power plant
in the village?” I asked. Now their anger spilled over. The solar plant
provides electricity only for a few hours in the evening and that too
enough to light only two bulbs, they explained. Officials were quick to
rebut this claim, “All the people in the village have television sets. Many,
in fact, have colour TVs, which consume more power. This trips the
power plant, and we do not have enough to provide assured energy to
all,” they said.
This clearly is not the way to go. The shift to clean solar power is a
great opportunity for villages unconnected to the power grid. It brings
energy, which in turn, is the starting point for literacy, communication
and productive work. But currently, most distributed solar energy pro-
grammes are based on giving households a few photovoltaic (PV) panels
and efficient light bulbs. This does not meet their aspirational needs.
Solar, then, becomes the energy source for the poor, because they are
poor. It will never provide the transition for millions living in darkness
to power through a non-fossil trajectory.
Chhattisgarh has, in fact, done something different. It has set up
solar mini grids in villages rather than provide PV panels to individ-
increase supply. In villages where the grid will reach (sooner or later),
the cost of the system should be paid through a feed-in-tariff, as is done
in the case of large solar plants. In this case, the government pays the
differential between the costs of setting up and running the system and
the power rate recovered from people. Today the poor pay for energy
needs—in these villages we found they spent between `150 and 200
for kerosene just for light. Paying the differential can ensure feasibility.
What’s more, the system interacts with the grid. It can sell excess power
or buy power and then supply it to the village. In this way, energy gen-
erated in millions of villages can light the homes of millions and many
more. This is the revolution we are waiting for.
How will solar energy be made to work in India? One, how will the
country pay for solar energy in a situation where there is no money to
pay for even the crashed costs of installation. Two, what is the best
model for the distribution and use of this relatively expensive energy in
a country where millions still live in the dark? Three, how should India
combine the twin objectives of supply of clean energy and creation of
domestic manufacturing capacities?
The government proposals for funding the differential costs of
solar are twofold. One, under the National Solar Mission phase II draft
guidelines, the Union Ministry of New and Renewable Energy proposed
a viability gap fund for new projects. In other words, it wants to go back
to the era of capital funding, which has been riddled with problems.
For instance, wind energy suffered because the operator had no real
incentive to generate power; it only eyed the benefits of capital finance
and depreciation. The plants’ performance was abysmally low; therefore,
generation-based incentive was introduced. It paid the differential, but
only based on actual power generation. Reversing this will be disastrous
in a sector where there is a huge gap in performance of systems. Capital
funding will be used without consideration for efficiency and output.
The second option—open to states—is to fund solar through renew-
able purchase obligations or feed-in tariffs, where the power utility is
required to buy a certain proportion of its energy from renewable sourc-
es. Andhra Pradesh (undivided) and Chhattisgarh announced ambitious
solar policies built on this premise. Tamil Nadu has gone a step further
poorest. We have pushed policy to recognise this, taking careful and cau-
tious decisions on the clearance of coal mines and, most importantly, to
heed the voices of communities when they protest mining in their back-
yard. This, we recognise, will reduce the availability of domestic coal and
will increase the cost of energy as plants depend on imported coal.
In addition, we want stringent standards on pollutants from coal,
including mercury. We also want all industries, including coal thermal
plants, to pay for the real cost of raw material, including water. All this
will make coal-based thermal power more responsive to environmental
safeguards and local concerns and make clean fuels more competitive.
Having said this, I do not accept the assumption that countries like
India, with huge unmet power needs, can make a transition to renewa-
bles so that we replace coal in the short run. Currently, coal accounts for
over 65 per cent of India’s power generation. India needs to massively
increase its power generation and make sure that the cost is afforda-
ble to the poor. In all this, it is clear that we need to aggressively push
renewables, particularly with the objective of energy access, so that the
current energy poor move to clean sources of power. But we must also
recognise that this will be expensive. The objective is to do what the rest
of world has not: reach the poor, not rich, with relatively more expensive
power. But even after doing all this and more, it is also a fact that India
will remain dependent on coal for the coming years.
So, why do I say it is hypocritical to ask India not to use coal? The
fact is that coal is still the mainstay of energy production in most parts
of the rich world. The only countries, which have weaned themselves
away from coal, are those that use nuclear on a large-scale (like France
and Sweden) or those with natural gas (like the US and large parts of
Europe). The hard inconvenient truth is that the US President is an
anti-coal campaigner because his country has options of large finds of
shale gas. It is gas versus coal, not climate concerns versus coal. It is now
convenient for him to be green and to preach to the world.
The fact also is that shale and natural gas are not necessarily clean or
green. Gas is also a fossil fuel, and even though its carbon dioxide emis-
sions are lower than that of coal, there is huge uncertainty about meth-
ane emissions from gas. Therefore, transition to gas from coal is not
{ Closed circle
The renewable energy sector is limited to
consultants who want the business and the industry
major, used every dirty tactic in the corporate larder to subvert govern-
ment guidelines and take over the public subsidy package—is another
instance of this business going the wrong way. This is not the business
of clean energy. This is the dirty business of "dirty" energy. The problem
also is that nobody wants to talk about this “aberration”. The proponents
of clean energy are social and environmental advocates. They do not
want to rock the boat. As a result, there is no public scrutiny of research
on this new business. The circle of knowledge and influence in this sec-
tor is limited to consultants who want the business and industry, which
is in the business itself. It is in everybody’s interest to keep a tight lid on
the murky side of the operations. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” is their motto.
It’s time to change. This time, for the better, not worse. n
a wind-mill. Nobody knows what it costs to manage a wind farm that does
not generate much power. Nobody is interested in reducing costs and
increasing efficiency of power generation. As a result, unlike other parts
of the world, in India, the capital and running costs of wind power gener-
ation have increased, even though the market dictates the cost decrease
with economies of scale.
In this “closed” economy, there is little public scrutiny, or research.
The only people who know are in its circle of influence—consultants
who get business, or business itself. Not a single wind company respond-
ed to issues we raised. Not a single “expert” was willing to go on record.
Nobody could explain why the plant load factor (plf) of wind energy
projects is so low, or what it should be. Is this because of lack of data
on the actual performance of wind energy projects? Is it because wind
energy data, though available, does not reflect the variability of wind
regimes? Can the technology potential be optimised? the potential of the
region? Questions never asked. Answers, not given.
This is deadly, when you consider all new technologies have a “learn-
ing curve”. The application must cause public programmes to be modi-
fied and so evolve. In the case of wind, policy must promote incentives
for generation—increase tariffs and reduce subsidy for capital. Also, if we
don’t fix the public-private relationship at the beginning, vested interests
will creep in and make it difficult to go for change. In July 2008, after
much delay, government did bite the bullet and agreed to a genera-
tion-based incentive scheme for wind energy. But it has not modified the
existing scheme, which gives incentives for capital. So this add-on
scheme, meant for those who “choose not to take advantage of capital
subsidy and tax depreciation” will clearly lead to little change. We need a
new model in all these cases. It has to be 4Ps—public-private-pub-
lic-partnership. The public regulator has to drive the purpose of technol-
ogy introduction; private industry must be accountable since public
funds fuel its business, and, at all stages, public research and public scru-
tiny must be welcomed. Let us be clear, green technologies need green
politics as well. n
The last image of 2012 was protesters storming the bastion of Delhi,
outraged at the brutal rape of a young girl, named by one media house
as Nirbhaya or fearless, and the culture of violence against women. This
outburst by the educated middle class, many of them young women,
was spontaneous as much as it was leaderless. We need to think about
the response of the government to this protest and others. We need to
understand if the Indian State has any clue about what is going on under
its nose—and feet.
In this case, on the first day people had gathered, peacefully but res-
olutely, to register their anger. The educated middle class was innocent,
and arrogant, enough to believe it should be allowed to march to the
grand presidential palace, a symbol of power and compassion in their
eyes. But the government reacted with horror. It used water cannons
and tear gas shells to quell the protest. The next day, the numbers
swelled, social networks got busy calling for a gathering and sadness for
the young victim turned into anger against the callous State.
In all this, there was absolute silence from top politicians. Nobody
walked into the crowd, held a megaphone and shared the grief of the
people. Nobody came out to explain that the government would indeed
take the required action to fast track conviction of the vile rapists and
beef up security across the city; that it would make its people feel safe.
Instead, politicians and bureaucrats hid behind their many-layered secu-
rity walls. The irony was there for all to see. The disgust grew.
To make amends, the then ruling United Progressive Alliance (upa)
chairperson Sonia Gandhi and her heir Rahul Gandhi decided to meet a
few “representatives” to convince them of the government’s intent. But
the fact is that this “movement”—for want of another word—has no
representatives. It is leaderless. It is just a collection of people brought
together by common anger. They needed to talk to all, not some.
This was not the first and last time this has happened. Take the protest
against the Kudankulam nuclear power plant in Tamil Nadu, just before
the protests over the gangrape incident. As the plant came close to com-
missioning, protesters blockaded the plant and held vigils and rallies to say
that they believe the plant is a hazard to their life and livelihood as fishers.
In this case, unlike the middle-class Delhi protesters, it was fisherfolk who
were agitating. They had seen what had happened in Fukushima on their
television screens. Whether right or wrong, these ordinary Indians were
convinced of the dangers of nuclear power. They needed answers. They
needed assurance from their leaders.
Instead, what they got was first disdain—what do the illiterate know
about complicated nuclear affairs. Then contempt—scientists chosen to
examine safety concerns were top pro-nuclear scientists. Then rejec-
tion—the government dismissed the movement as funded by foreign
money. When all this did not work, the response was brutal police action.
No leader had the credibility to speak to their own people to explain the
hazards and the steps taken to safeguard the plant.
But there is much more to these protests. We must fear we are losing
the plot. The fact is that each such movement reflects concerns—valid,
exaggerated or emotional—that need to be addressed. And the failure
in doing so will eat up our insides, corrode the very being of the country.
On the one hand, the establishment of governance is crumbling. It
has inadequate ability to research, to enquire and, therefore, to assure
that it will protect the interests of the weakest. Our regulatory institu-
tions have been dismembered and disabled so they have no credibility.
They cannot prepare independent safety assessments. They cannot
drive any change to build confidence that all is well.
On the other hand, our political leadership is losing its ability to face
the very people who elect it to power. They cannot stand up and talk.
And every time they do not reach out to the people, they get even more
cocooned and even more isolated. And every time, people lose faith in
the political establishment—urban middle classes embrace fascism and
the poor arm against the State. It is a bad portent.
In 2011, Time magazine anointed “the protester” as the person of
the year. Clearly, this is the image that has captured the world—from
dissent against the lack of democracy and repression in large parts of
West Asia to anger against economic policies in vast and disparate parts
of the world in 2011, as well as in the years that have passed on since.
People, all over, are saying enough is enough. But what will happen
to these voices in the coming years? Will the movements of protesters be
enough to change the way the world runs its business? Do these move-
ments even know what they want?
It is important to understand that there are similarities and yet huge
differences in protest movements against economic policies in the rich
and the getting-rich world. The US-born Occupy Wall Street move-
ment’s slogan was “we are the 99 per cent who will no longer tolerate the
greed and corruption of the 1 per cent”. The movement, which began in
New York and then spread across many states, was squelched in many
places by aggressive city governments.
The movement was leaderless and people-powered. It had no mani-
festo and no actionable agenda on how Wall Street must be reformed or
how the global economy must be restructured so that it could meet the
needs of all. In this way, it is easy to dismiss this movement as just one
more protest that will go nowhere.
In Atlanta, the occupy-our-home movement wanted to take over
houses of people who would be thrown out by banks because of default
in mortgage payments. It argued the assessment of property values was
too high and banks had too much power to throw out people, even if
they defaulted on one payment. In Washington, the occupy-the-vote-
DC movement demanded electoral representation for the federal city.
The list goes on.
But there is another possibility. The fact is that this movement—as
with many similar movements in the rich-but-economically-troubled
world—has struck a chord. Today, the same rich world, which was
secure in its consumption and comfort, is finding the going tough.
Things it took for granted are no longer easily available—from homes
and medical facilities to education and jobs. Ordinary people are being
hit by what governments call necessary austerity measures. They are
hitting back in every way they can.
These movements represent many uncomfortable and inconvenient
issues that are refusing to go away. The rumbling that began in mid-2008
with the bankruptcy of the Lehman Brothers has become a roar as more
banks and national economies collapse. This is in spite of governments
doing all they can to portray that they have arrested the financial col-
lapse. The problem is that the world’s economic managers do not believe
there is any real option to restructure economies so that they consume
less, pollute less and still grow in wellbeing, if not in wealth.
The problem is that we are wedded to this one ideology of growth. It
is for this reason that in spite of all the perturbations and upheavals, the
same people who have put us in this place continue to be in charge of fix-
ing the problems of growth. It is no wonder that the protest movements
are also on the rise. And even if they do not have the answers to the prob-
lems, they know that the current policies are not working. Their anguish
reminds us that real change must happen, tomorrow or the day after. n
The world has changed after Iraq, everybody who is somebody would
believe this in the 21st century. “Iraq” is almost a duly recognised word
to mark the invasion of country by the US in 2003. It’s a defining geo-
political event. But just how much has the world changed? The picture
that is emerging from the contemplations of the most powerful minds
sets out the game-plan of a drastically changed world. Today’s foreign
policy is based on security concerns. Terrorism is an invisible enemy and
can never really disappear. So the world will be ordered by a doctrine of
“search-destroy-control”.
Sources of insecurity have been redefined too. It is not only enemy
states that are threats. But insecurity arises from the “new wars”—vio-
lence of the state against civilians, organised crime and the “new viruses
of national and religious extremism”. These threats breed in what are
known as collapsed or failed states—authoritarian regimes, unable to
adapt to the pressures of globalisation.
The theory is that the natural resource regions of the world—oil-
rich, mineral-rich, forest-rich—remain marginalised and poor because
the elite and powerful in these nations appropriate the enormous
wealth. Natural resources like oil become an impediment to democ-
racy and wealth distribution. These are the resource-rich, low-income
nations, with weak institutions and failed public policy. The “failed” State
breeds civil wars and growing cycles of violence. Therefore, there is a
need for global intervention so that the rule of law can be established,
new institutions built and natural resource wealth equitably distributed.
“Oil for the people” is the war dividend in Iraq and would be in many
other countries, where such intervention would be ordered.
Therefore, it is argued that peace, order and stability can best be
furthered “not by reconfiguring the distribution of power among states
but by altering the authority structure within states”. In other words,
America’s protection demands that it should fix messy-nations quickly.
{ Time to be different
The 2009 elections that could, but did not change India
its business?
Whether it is a case of the State failing its citizens—Nagpur—or
citizens failing the State—Delhi’s rich—the fact is that, today, a system is
being worked to death. We are working it to death. And helping us is the
bureaucracy—the State’s managers—by conveniently handing over its
work to “whosoever it may concern” without losing the perks that come
with their non-jobs. This is visible in every sphere of our lives: education,
health, transport or water.
First, we deliberately disable our public institutions. We do this by
not investing adequately in these services, and then in creating an inter-
est in running inefficient and incompetent institutions for the sake of it.
Most public institutions today run to pay salaries, not to deliver services
to the people they are meant for. In public health service institutions, for
instance, salaries gobble up 70-80 per cent of the total (meagre) funds
allocated to this sector. How can such a system deliver? If its managers
compromise the public system, its workers maul it; whatever is left
becomes the playground of the very rich. And all of this happens in the
name of the poor.
Let’s look at the health sector. In this poor country, as much as 82 per
cent of all outpatient visits take place in the private sector today. And
government’s tactical support is evident. It gives away land at throwaway
prices, subsidises the private sector, in the name of the poor. The rich
hospitals are “expected” to use their largesse to provide free or accessi-
ble services for the poor. But this rarely happens. Why should it? In this
way, public health services are completely compromised. Worse, given
the enormous disparities in income, the poor are denied access. Only an
efficient and high-quality public support system can provide health care
for all. But by now, too much has been lost.
Second, we create vested interests, which then work against change.
Transport is a perfect example of this. We have decimated the public
transport infrastructure—railways and city buses—so that today, at
best, it is a playground for petty trade union politics, which survives
on State largesse. In its place, a massive industry built on private trans-
port—trucks, cars and scooters—has come up. The private sector has
been given a free run, the argument being that it would be profitable and
efficient. But few of us realise that all road infrastructure projects, being
built by the “efficient” private sector, are subsidised by the State—as
much as 20-30 per cent of the land acquisition costs are borne by the
exchequer in these projects.
No wonder the poor end up as losers. No wonder that the real prof-
iteers end up being the managers of the State. Electoral politics dictates
that their interests are not fiddled with. They have even less to do, but
can make more money by milking the private sector for personal gains.
They have the ultimate interest in weakening the government. It is this
battle of the Indian bulge that will determine our future. n
I never thought I would write in defence of the Indian State. But I am.
The de-construction of the notion of public space and the practice of
public service is evident and will cripple us enormously. But I am also
clear that re-construction will demand considerable innovation. We will
be fooling ourselves if we believe that merely doing more of what we do
now serves any purpose. The State is vital. But today it is too full of blub-
ber. It is this bulge which needs to be revamped and re-strengthened, so
that the State can play its role effectively. In this dog-eat-dog world, it
must function as a true custodian of the public interest.
So any reform that seeks to strengthen its institutional fabric will have
to be driven by its real political and public masters. In other words, the
State will have to be driven to work. How should this be done? First, I
would argue we need to ascertain, quite literally, the role of government.
This issue cannot be taken for granted anymore. We need to clarify what
its role will be, so far as basic services, education and health and basic
needs, water and food are concerned. We also must clarify the govern-
ment’s role as the public interest regulator. This clarity of purpose is vital.
For today, most government action is taken in a mindless and heartless
manner. Government agencies have turned into paper pushers; they fid-
dle with procedures and budgets, without knowing why or what it is that
they are doing. Government has become one large bloated clerkdom.
Then, we need to plug its weaknesses. We need to critique its failures.
Not so that we move to paralysis by analysis, but for the sake of cathar-
sis by analysis. For instance, we must accept that public agencies today
seriously lack expertise to manage change. Take water services. Everyone
will agree that clean and safe water is a must for all. Yet, everyone will also
agree that public institutions are not delivering this basic need. Therefore
as the State falters, the private sector steps in. Today, large parts of rich
urban India drink bottled water. Remember, this is water the private
entrepreneur does not pay for but simply rips off the aquifer, cleans (to
some extent) and then bottles to deliver to homes. But it services a need.
The health costs of unsafe water are deadly for the poor. And in all this,
the battered public services continue to provide subsidy to the water and
sewage of the rich. Everyone will agree this is unacceptable.
But what everyone will not agree upon is the way ahead. Some will
argue for public-private partnership, for them a euphemism for private
takeover of the publicly created facility. Others will argue for control of
the public institution: there should be no talk of private capital and cer-
tainly no talk of capitalist tools like pricing of water or fiscal regulations.
As I see it, both are right, to an extent. The public-proponents are
right in saying that the public purpose of the service must be maintained.
But the private-proponents are also right when they say the public
institution is weak in capacity and expertise. The Delhi Jal Board, for
instance, has employees far in excess of what it needs to discharge its
functions as a public water utility. Even worse, this is a workforce with-
out expertise. Therefore, to do anything at all, technical or innovative, it
needs to call in external consultants. Because it cannot fix from within,
and it is easier to bypass than to reform.
Such a lack of expertise is a serious problem because it forces a silent
takeover by parties that possess some knowledge but has lots of vested
interest. In all this, the role of the State as public regulator is grossly
compromised because it just does not possess the ability to negotiate
on behalf of public policy. And so it happens that state institutions can
work for private and sectoral interests in the guise of public interest. The
system does not demand any performance or merit. It only demands
complacency. Roll over and play dead. Let the competing private inter-
ests slug it out. Slugfest over, profit again by declaring the temporary
winner. In all this, arrogance and the stench of power covers up the
incompetence.
In other words, the reform of public institutions will demand
strengthening of its knowledge capacities. How will this be done? It
is often mistakenly said, given the chimera of our software business,
that we are a knowledge society. In fact, we must realise that we are
increasingly a knowledge-proof society. Public institutions are immune
to knowledge. In fact, I would say, they are insured against it. And it is
{ Pampering abuse
Lutyens’ Delhi is an elite gated community that overuses
every resource. Why is it then in the Smart Cities list?
Even as per government’s own norms, which specify highest water sup-
ply as 150 litres per capita per day, this is excessive, indeed gluttonous
and wasteful. This water inequity is shameful and should have, in fact,
disqualified Lutyens’ Delhi from any smart city challenge in my view.
It is also highly land-extravagant. While the city of Delhi has been
imploding with a decadal growth rate of almost 50 per cent, the ndmc
area is so privileged that it has a negative decadal growth rate of two per
cent, according to its own sub-zonal plan. In other words, people are
not welcome in this gated city. In this city of India, over 30 per cent of
the land is under recreational purposes. This is so out of sync with the
rest of the city and indeed the rest of India that is fighting for its inches
of green spaces.
But even with all this land, the gated city of ndmc does not manage
its own waste. This is sent to the rest of Delhi’s landfills. Its land is too
precious for its waste. It does a lot of “cute” stuff like segregation of
waste and even involves rag pickers in collecting waste from households.
But the bulk of its waste goes to Okhla, where the compost plant is dys-
functional, and the rest to Delhi’s overflowing Ghazipur landfill. This is
when it has no shortage of funds as government spends on itself without
any questions.
New Delhi is not a smart city for all these reasons. It is certainly not
a city that can be replicated in the rest of India. It is resource-inefficient,
highly iniquitous and highly environmentally unprincipled. This is not
what smart cities should stand for.
Former New York mayor and billionaire Michael Bloomberg’s foun-
dation, Bloomberg Philanthropies, is government’s knowledge partner
for the Smart Cities Initiative. This initiative will define what smart cities
will mean for India and what we must aspire to. It is important for this
reason alone that they must choose wisely. n
the biggest structures and then try sugarcoating them. I say this without
even discussing the need for airports to give way to other modes of much
more efficient transport like railways.
If one begins to think green in a locally appropriate way, one will
realise that traditional architecture was green in many ways. Every part
of India had its unique stamp of buildings. This is because creative and
architectural diversity was built on biological diversity. So buildings in
hot regions would ensure corridors directed the wind so that it naturally
cooled the interiors. In wetter regions, architects would build using the
natural breeze and light. All in all, traditional architects knew how to
optimise the use of elements.
Today, Indians have forgotten how to build for their environment.
Instead, modern buildings are examples of monocultures—lifted from
the building books of cold countries where glass facades are good to
look at and appropriate for their climate. The same building in India is
a nightmare; the glass traps the heat. The building cannot be naturally
cooled because windows cannot be opened. It needs central air-condi-
tioning and heating. In this situation, turning the building green means
using very expensive glass to insulate better. Builders avoid this. So the
only band-aid green measures left are to include a few token items like
efficient lights and water-saving devices in the toilets.
Architects say God is in the details. In this case, the details are about
both simplicity and diversity. Sun is both the source of light and heat.
Traditional architecture made use of a small but critical detail: the window
shade. Modern facades are built without these shades because they don’t fit
the image of the western building. Just raise your head and look at the glitzy
building out there, you won’t find this simple but effective detail.
Clearly, the buildings of the green future have to be different. This
will require setting the right policy so that practice can follow. The fact is
even today we have no mandatory green standards for builders to follow.
The National Building Code does not include energy, water or material
efficiency standard. The only standard that exists is for energy—the
Energy Conservation Building Code (ecbc)—and it is voluntary. The
first and urgent step is to incorporate this voluntary energy code into
the mandatory National Building Code. The second step is to ensure its
But Indore should have had enough to drink and to swim. But 39
years later, the water has still not reached all distribution pipelines.
A significant portion of water it sources is lost in distribution, which
means there is far more costs but far less water to supply. The city water
utility has no money to repair and extend its water system. It spends all
it has and more in just electricity costs of bringing the water. Politicians
are vying with each other to bring the water from the Maheshwar dam.
The recent jal samadhi by the Maheshwar dam-displaced has met with
enormous anger from Indore’s power elite. They say they need the
dam’s water at all costs. They do not care if the people, whose land has
been submerged by the dam, have not received compensation or been
resettled.
In all cities, groundwater levels are declining precipitously in urban
areas as people bore deeper in search of the water that municipalities
cannot supply. So when it does not rain, the city cries. And when it does
rain, still it cries. It is a tragedy because this continuous cycle of depri-
vation and disruption is completely unnecessary. What is imperative
is that cities must begin to value their rainfall endowment. This means
implementing rainwater harvesting in each house and colony.
But it also means relearning about the hundreds of lakes, tanks
and ponds that built, indeed nourished, cities. Almost every city had
a treasure of water harvesting structures, which provided it with a
flood cushion and allowed it to recharge its groundwater reserves. But
today’s urban planners cannot see beyond land. Where there is water,
there should be land, is their money-spinning philosophy. So it is that
waterbodies in cities today are a shame to our traditional imagination—
encroached, full of sewage, garbage or just filled up and built-over. The
cities forgot they need water. They forgot their own lifeline.
The power elite never demand systems to deal with the sewage they
flush out of their homes. In Indore, the sewage system was constructed
in 1936 at the time of the Holkars. Independent Indore has added to it
insignificantly. The bulk of the sewage pours into its rivers, Khan and
Saraswati, and Piliyakhal Nullah, untreated. It forgets that the Khan pol-
lutes the Kshipra; the main water source of the neighbour, Ujjain.
In fact, lake ecology defined Indian cities in the past. Every city gave
its land for rain. Bengaluru in the early 1960s had 262 lakes; now only
10 hold water. The Ahmedabad collector—on directions from the high
court—listed 137 lakes in the city but also said that over 65 had been
already built-over. In Delhi, 508 waterbodies were identified—again, on
court orders—but are not protected.
I find that the hue and cry about water harvesting and rejuvenating
lakes still remains a chimera. Urban planners simply don’t know how
important these two activities are. They simply refuse to believe that
both are perfectly possible. They flirt with the idea, but then do not even
begin to integrate the city’s water needs with its rainwater wealth.
There are also other problems. Firstly, builders and architects today
have simply never been taught the many other ways of holding water,
that exist outside the syllabi they conned as students. They have been
trained to see water as waste and to build systems that dispose it off as
fast as possible. Of course, given the sheer mess of urban India, even
the stormwater drains have become conduits for sewage, or get choked
with garbage or in many cases just don’t get built. An entire generation
of Indians will have to be retrained. It is crucial that future architects and
planners understand water once again. Our society cannot let go of its
own wisdom so easily.
This, when other countries are profiting from our wisdom. In
Germany, city authorities have learnt and are using our knowledge. To
save investing in stormwater drains, they provide incentives to house-
holds to harvest and recharge rainwater. The city charges tax based
on the calculation of the paved area and the water-runoff coefficient.
If rainwater harvesting is done and the load on the city’s stormwater
drainage is reduced, the burden of tax on the house-owner is reduced
accordingly. But this demands governance capacities, something we
desperately lack.
Secondly, the business of land is far more powerful than the business
of water storage. In spite of all the efforts of civil society groups to use
the strategy of judicial intervention, the movement to protect and revive
lakes is facing an uphill battle. The administrative framework for manag-
ing a waterbody just does not exist in our cities anymore.
Having lost its waterbodies, floods ravage Guwahati. Residents
explain the intensity and duration of floods had made life impossibly
difficult. They also spoke of desperate water shortages in this region of
plenty. Worse, life-giving water is now the cause for diseases—death by
dengue fever is a yearly feature.
This is when cities have options to do things differently. They are yet
to build all their homes, roads and water and sewage systems. They can
execute a plan, which allows them to modernise but with quality of life
intact and even better. This requires not wanting to grow the way Delhi,
Mumbai or any other “old-growth” city has.
For instance, these cities should not repeat the mistake of allowing
fleets of cars to take over their roads. Indore was an enlightened city to
plan for a bus-based future. Some years ago it invested in new buses,
rationalised routes, created systems for efficient operation and put gps
in place to track and inform customers. Now the cost of bus fuel is up,
fares have not been revised and buses are losers. Still the majority of the
city population commutes by cycling or walking, even though the city’s
footpaths are long gone.
Guwahati’s footpaths are gone as well, taken over by mounds of
garbage. The city has taken the route of its bigger cousins. It has put the
task of garbage disposal out to a concessionaire, who, it hopes, will sweep
the city clean. It does not. Instead, Guwahati could collect, segregate
and compost garbage at the household level. It could reserve areas in
colonies for environmental services. This way it would not have to first
collect and then transport the waste. It would not have to live in filth.
Indore and Guwahati are the creations of its residents. The only ques-
tion is whether they will be dreams or nightmares.
Politicians and planners believe that water is God’s gift to their elec-
tion promises. People must now begin to believe it is something they can
gift to themselves. We are all mindless about wasting water; now, let’s
get mindful of retaining it. Then, the modern-day urban tragedy called
timely rain will receive a popular denouement. n
harbour, with a breakwater fingering its way into the sea to protect the
boats. This structure, built in 1986, marked the beginning of devastating
changes in the coast. Once the harbor was built, it first changed the
beach closest to it—the beach along the city of Puducherry. All I could
see was granite stones piled along the ocean promenade. By then it was
evening. People had gathered, as they do to enjoy the beach and the sun-
set. But there was no sand or beach. Only rocks. All this had been lost in
a living memory of 15-20 years. A people had lost their playground. More
importantly, a city had lost its critical ecosystem.
This is just the beginning, explained Banerjee. This structure, small
by any standard of modern harbour or port, has spun a chain of beach
changes along the coast. The groyne we saw earlier had been built
because the length of the coast stretching 10-20 km was now desta-
bilised. We could see piles of sand accumulated before the harbour,
blocked from making its way to regenerate the beaches. Now every beach
needs a groyne and every groyne adds to the problem of the next beach.
Besides, just think of the amount of granite that is brought from long
distances after destroying hills; carrying trucks adding to the pollution.
Ports are interventions to the natural ecology of coasts. But we
neither understand the impacts, nor worry about ways to deal with
the damage. A few years ago, Puducherry woke up to the reality that
their harbour was to be rebuilt and contracts and concessions had been
awarded to transform it into a massive port. The citizens’ group went to
court against the project. In this stretch of some 600 km, one can count
seven ports that exist and another three are proposed. This is when each
existing port is not used to capacity and is being upgraded big time.
Then why are we building more ports? There is no policy for silting and
number of ports in the country.
The Central government knows only about “major” ports and leaves
the rest of the business—permission to locate and build other ports—to
state governments. There is no distinction between a major port and a
state port. It is just a matter of how many one can fit into the coast as fast
and profitably as possible. Nobody, therefore, knows how many ports
are being built. Nobody cares about the cumulative impact on rivers of
sand. Surely, this cannot be called development. Can it? n
the road space in our cities. Therefore, this is a subsidy for this mode of
transport. On the other hand, the same money spent on public transport
would have substantially upgraded services for all. In many ways, it is an
incentive to pollute more.
Secondly, and shockingly, private vehicles pay less road tax than
public transport vehicles. So, let us be clear that this is a mockery of
economics; here, the poor support the rich.
But in case these facts make you believe public transport is not used
in our cities, let me correct this. In many cities, public transport, however
it may exist, still moves over 50-70 per cent of commuters. But private
vehicles constitute over 90 per cent of all vehicles in our cities. In other
words, this is not the story of the US, where the car replaced the bus. It is
the story of poor cities—Bengaluru, Chennai, Pune—of a poor country,
where the poor have not become rich.
They have only been neglected. Murderously so. n
capita than most European cities, and up to eight times more road space
per capita as compared to the crowded cities of Asia. When more roads
fail to solve the problem, governments invest in flyovers and elevated
highways. These roads occupy space—real estate—and are costly to
build and maintain. It has been estimated that in Western cities depend-
ent on automobiles, it could cost as much as US $260 per capita per year
to operate these facilities.
But this investment is also not paying off as ever increasing cars fill
the ever increasing space. This is why experts say building roads to fit
cars is like trying to put out a fire with petrol. Britain’s orbital motorway,
something akin to Delhi’s Ring Road that “bypasses” the city, was built
more than two decades ago. Since then, it has been expanded at huge
costs to 12 lanes. But bumper-to-bumper traffic on it has dubbed it the
nation’s biggest car park.
Congestion costs the Earth, in terms of lost hours spent in traffic; in
terms of fuel and in terms of pollution. In the US, the congestion bill for
85 cities totalled to a staggering US $63 billion in 2003. This calculated
only the cost of hours lost—some 3.7 billion—and extra fuel consumed,
not the loss of opportunity because of missed meetings and other such
factors. In the UK, the industry has pegged the figure at US $30 billion.
Our part of the world is similarly blessed: Bangkok estimates that it loses
six per cent of its economic production due to traffic congestion. These
costs do not even begin to account for pollution: emissions of hydro-
carbons and carbon monoxide are linked with speed and frequent stop
and start.
The logic of the market tells us that people overuse goods and servic-
es that come free. Why, then, should this dictum not be applied to roads?
Why should fiscal policy not be designed to reflect the real cost of this
public asset? Why not charge for it?
The answer to who should pay is simple: the user. But what is often
not understood is the nature—colour and class—of the “real” user of
the public largesse in our economies. While in the Western world, the
car has replaced the bus or bicycle, in our world it has only marginalised
its space. Therefore, even in a rich city like Delhi, cars and two-wheelers
carry less than 20 per cent of the city’s commuting passengers. The rest
The world’s cheapest car, the Nano, is more or less a forgotten story
now. But the message it has left lingers on. Manufacturer Tata Motors
said it would change the way Indians drove, for it placed the personal car
within the reach of people who once could only dream of owning one.
Indeed, the Nano was marketed as an “aspiration”—the right of every
Indian to own a car. No quibble here. There is no question an affordable
car is better than an expensive one; or that a small car, being more fuel
efficient, is better than a big one. No question, too, that every citizen
of India has as much right to a car as every citizen of America, where
vehicle numbers are obscene: some 800 vehicles for 1,000 people (old
and young) against our measly seven per 1,000 people (urban and rural).
So, the issue is not the Nano, but whether cars still are the future
of the world economy. Over the years, in different continents, vehicle
manufacturers invented and re-invented this appliance for self-mobility,
for different market segments. In India, two-wheeler manufacturers can
rightly claim that in the 1980s they, too, provided technology innovation
and affordable mobility for vast numbers. They can also claim they were
the first to break the class barrier. Then, in the early 1990s, when Sanjay
Gandhi’s people’s car, the Maruti 800, hit the roads, gender barriers also
fell—this was a car women could drive and it gave new freedoms. No
question, therefore, of what Nano would have brought to new owners.
But the car came at a time when the production of personal vehicles
itself was becoming old-economy. It is not surprising the car industry has
become the first big dinosaur of the 21st century. Every country today is
working to bail out its automobile industry. The big four companies are
still struggling with their accounts. There is huge over-capacity in the
world of cars—sales are down and the industry is bleeding. You might
think it is a temporary phase: cars will zoom again, as recession blues
turn pink. But this is far from the reality.
The fact is cars could only make it big in the old economy because
proportion of people who are or will commute are using and will con-
tinue to use public transport—a bus or a train. Today, as much as half of
rich Delhi takes a bus, and another one-third walk or cycle because they
are too poor to even take the bus.
Think again about the car inequity in India—seven per 1,000 people.
Can the government write off the costs—Nano style—so that all can
buy the car? Can the government pay for our parking, our roads and our
fuel, so that all can drive the car? If not, then is this the right right at all?
The issue, then, is not the right to own a Nano. The issue is the right
to a slice of the public subsidy so that everybody has the right to mobility.
There is no other right. n
In August 2003, the Centre for Science and Environment (cse) found
samples of 12 major soft drink manufacturers contained residues of four
extremely toxic pesticides and insecticides—lindane, ddt, malathion
and chlorpyrifos. We made the findings public and termed them as the
“dirty dozen”. We took on the might of the multinational companies
known to topple governments. I narrate here the initial few weeks of
the fight because it throws light on how multinationals clinically subvert
food safety issues.
When we released our study on pesticides in soft drinks, our objec-
tive was clear: we needed action on regulations, which had been stymied
because of corporate pressure. What we hadn’t anticipated was the
response of the cola majors. The response then had been immediate and
vituperative. “There are no pesticides in our drinks and cse cannot test
our products” was the line taken by the cola majors. This challenge led
to the formation of a Joint Parliamentary Committee (jpc)—the first one
on health—to investigate, not the pesticides in colas, but our institution,
cse. We were given the bitter taste of the power of these companies.
What a line of attack! PepsiCo, in its advertisements, said there were
more pesticides in tea, eggs, rice and apples. Coca-Cola, in its defence,
similarly argued that as everything in India is contaminated, its drinks
are safe. They said this was being done to target them, because they
are big brands and US multinationals. On the other hand, the pesticide
industry, in its public response, wanted the focus not to be on pesticides,
but on heavy metals and other contaminants. They also said they were
being singled out.
What should we understand from all this? One, we should not target
US companies, not target the pesticide industry, and in fact, not target any
particular industrial sector, but keep the issue at the level of generalities.
Two, we should not try and fix any specific problem, like pesticides in
soft drinks through improved regulations. But we should keep our work
But, we must note, food is not only about business. Food is about
people who grow it, and small producers and manufacturers who source
and supply it to our tables. Food, most importantly, is about our health
and livelihoods.
Industry has discovered that reaching for our stomachs is a lucrative
business. The food on our table is changing—it is less natural and more
manufactured—mirroring the situation in the developed world. This
is a consequence of what is known as value-addition: industries source
raw material, process, mix and manufacture it, and, most importantly,
package it.
It is said farmers will benefit. But the fact is big business squeezes
prices in the name of reliability and quality, and the inevitable losers are
those who grow the raw material for the food we eat.
This is part of the logic of subjecting nutrition and health to the mer-
cies of the market. In this paradigm, food becomes a matter of marketing
rather than nutrition, health or consumer rights. Industry is winning
because Indians, both rural and urban, are beginning to crave packaged
goodies. We now spend more on buying manufactured foods than on
buying fresh fruits and vegetables. We spend more on beverages than
on milk.
The irony is we are taking the path of the rich world, which has
learnt that food as business is bad for health, because lifestyle diseases
are linked to bad food. It is also learning new definitions for safe food as
bacteria are being replaced by tiny toxins—from chemical additives and
preservatives to contaminants like pesticides, dioxins, hormones and
other harmful things. n
{ The GM debate
We can’t assume that we are powerful enough to use
modern substances, but too weak to regulate its use
tal. Fact is I want the right to decide if I want to eat Bt brinjal or not. But
India has no labelling system to distinguish the GM-hybrid from its ordi-
nary cousin. You and I will have no choice. Furthermore, it is virtually
impossible to set up a labelling system for a vegetable, in a country the
size of India, where tests would have to be done on the farms of GM and
non-GM crop growers.
Labelling also demands the country must have a laboratory network
and a functioning regulatory system, so that GM content can be ana-
lysed and told to consumers. This is far from the set-up we have in the
country. The Centre for Science and Environment for instance, tried to
get edible oil checked for GM traces, but we were turned away by most
laboratories in India. They could not test; they had limited facilities; the
tests were prohibitively expensive or was not possible.
With Bt brinjal, therefore, arises a similar problem of wanting “mod-
ern” technology without “modern” facilities to ensure safety and regula-
tion. The same deadly combination.
Over and above this, there are concerns about what this “foreign”
introduction will do to the biodiversity of brinjal—India is the centre
of origin of this vegetable, over 2,500 varieties of which are grown here.
While company scientists say Bt brinjal will not contaminate other vari-
eties, research also shows that cross-pollination is definitely possible. Can
we risk losing these staples—long, short, round or twisted—of our table?
To me the outcome is clear: Bt brinjal is not worth the risk and the
uncertainty it presents. This is not a verdict on GM crops. It is a demand
for choice: to eat or not to eat.
The case of GM organisms is similar. Some people are ideologically
opposed to GM crops. But there are others—like me—who want these
crops introduced, but with all precaution to ensure our safety. In other
words, we want a credible and effective (kicking) public regulatory poli-
cy and framework for the use of GM products in the country.
But it seems that is too much to ask. We have no real policy to decide
which GM crops should be allowed. Several parts of the world fear this
technology and have disallowed any food products which contain GM
organisms—accidentally or intentionally. US rice exports are in deep
trouble because of this. GM rice has not been permitted anywhere in the
{ Hatching conspiracy
Industrial poultry is a trap where we kill the local
in the name of global
and does not grow. The business needs to improve the genetic stock of
the birds and strengthen their immunity against diseases, like traditional
backyard poultry farmers do.
But instead of reforming the poultry industry the business of the flu
is ending up promoting the very industry and its practices. In fact, it is
destroying the livelihood of the very people who practice a different kind
of poultry, the small and marginal farmers.
After the avian flu hit Asia, fao told governments that while it would
be possible to tighten biosafety in commercial poultry farms, it would
be impossible do it for non-commercial enterprises, such as backyard
production systems, where flocks forage outdoors. Its recommendation
was that animal production should move to larger farms, where surveil-
lance is possible. Danielle Nierenberg, who researches this sector at the
Washington-based Worldwatch Institute, reports that this led Vietnam
in April 2005 to impose a ban on live poultry markets and asking farms
to convert to factory-style methods. Thailand planned to follow suit.
The virus is clearly and most certainly deadly and not only because it
mutates. fao itself reports that smallholder poultry is critical for liveli-
hood and food (nutrition) security in vast parts of the poor world. Food
(and chicken) then is too serious a business to be left to the industry
alone. This lesson must be learnt. n
Which cooking oil is best for us? Why do I ask? Are we not bom-
barded with advertising messages telling us there is a healthy oil that is
good for the heart? They talk of monounsaturated fatty acids (mufa),
and polyunsaturated fatty acids (pufa) and of course, catch-us-words
like omega properties. I am sure you, like me, try to understand this sci-
entific jargon and conclude that any oil that has all these elements must
be good. Then we presume if we are being told the product is healthy,
somebody must have verified the claim. If not, we depend on food reg-
ulators of the rich world. Food is after all nutrition and even medicine.
It must be taken seriously, we are sure. So, we, as aware citizens, go out
and buy the “healthy” oil.
Like you, I also thought I had it figured out. Then the Centre for
Science and Environment’s pollution monitoring laboratory tested
various types of oil—from peanut, mustard and safflower to sunflower,
olive and more. As the results came in, we compared them with what we
knew about these oils. It is then we realised we had not even begun to
understand the science of our food and its relation with our bodies—in
a world, where our food is not our own anymore. The business is in our
kitchen. In this business, our nutrition and its science are also business,
even profit. If food regulators slip—unmindfully or negligently—our
health is compromised.
This for me is the story of our cooking oil and our bodies. Let me
explain. We started with the presumption, verified by nutrition regula-
tors that a healthy oil is one that has less saturated fat, more mufa and
the level of pufa is balanced between saturated and mono. In addition,
we need to consider the sub-constituents, the essential fatty acids—
omega 6, omega 3 and the current poster boy, omega 9. The oil, which
has these in some proportion, is the best. We thought we had cracked it.
On further research we found that this science is not simple, nor
exact. Coconut oil, which has a high amount of saturated fat, scores
poorly on this good-oil matrix, there is now more evidence that we have
They say you are what you eat. But do we know what we are eating? Do
we know who is cooking and serving us the food we take to our kitchens
and then into our bodies?
The more I dig into this issue it becomes clear that our world of food
is spinning in directions we know nothing about.
Take honey. A sweet preserve we take for granted that it comes from
bees, which collect it from the nectar of flowers. We pick up the bottle
from a local shop, believing the honey was collected naturally, is fresh
and certainly without contaminants. In most cases, we think that small
farmers produced it or it was collected from the wild and packaged by
large companies. We consume it as a natural tonic against the chemical
assaults of the modern world.
But little do we know how the business of honey has changed. Nobody
explains us that the culture of food is linked to biodiversity. And this is
further connected with the business—and not pleasure of food. But mess
with biodiversity and you mess with food. The ubiquitous bee is one such
instance. Some decades ago, leading scientific institutions in India sold the
idea of introducing the European bee (Apis mellifera) into the country.
This prolific honey producer bee took over the business, virtually replac-
ing the humble but more adapted Indian bees (Apis cerana and Apis
dorsata) from our food.
At the same time, the business of honey moved away from small
producers, collecting honey from the wild and cultivating it in natural
conditions. It has become a highly organised business, controlled by a
handful of companies that handle all aspects of the trade—from the sup-
ply of queen bees to the paraphernalia of bee-housing, from feeding and
disease control to linking up with producers across different states. It is
an outsourced business, run by franchisees whose job is to find places,
like the apple farms of Himachal, where there is nectar for bees.
We have lost the biodiversity of the bee—Apis mellifera now large-
Jhabua, late 1980s. This tribal, hilly district of Madhya Pradesh resem-
bled moonscape. All around me were bare brown hills. There was
no water. No work. Only despair. I still remember the sight of people
crouched on a dusty roadside, breaking stones. This was what drought
relief was all about—work in the scorching sun to repair roads that got
damaged each year or dig pits for trees that did not survive or build walls
that went nowhere. It was unproductive work. But it was all that people
had to survive the cursed time. It was also clear that the impact of drought
was pervasive and long-term. It destroyed the livestock economy and
sent people down the spiral of debt. One severe drought would set back
development work for years.
2016. The country is once again reeling from a crippling drought. But
this drought is different. In the 1990s, it was the drought of a poor India.
The 2016 drought is of richer and more water-guzzling India. This class-
less drought makes for a crisis that is more severe and calls for solutions
that are more complex. The severity and intensity of drought is not about
lack of rainfall; it is about the lack of planning and foresight, and criminal
neglect. Drought is human-made. Let’s be clear about this.
In June 1992, Down To Earth published an article by editor Anil
Agarwal and colleagues on the state of drought. Their analysis was that
while large parts of India were under the grip of drought, by official
meteorological accounts it was a near-normal rainfall year. He went on to
argue that drought would be here to stay unless we learnt again the mil-
lennium-old art of managing raindrops. Harvesting water in millions of
waterbodies and using it to recharge groundwater was critical. By the late
1990s, when drought reared its ugly head again, Down To Earth explored
how villages had beaten the odds by managing their water sagaciously. It
was a lesson taken by political leaders as they then launched water-har-
vesting programmes in their states.
However, this effort to rebuild water security was wasted in the fol-
lowing decade despite the opportunity to get it right. There was rain—
years of deficiency were fewer—and there were government programmes
designed to build water structures. Under the Mahatma Gandhi National
Rural Employment Guarantee Act (mgnrega), millions of check dams,
ponds and other structures were constructed. But as the intention was not
to overcome drought, but only to provide employment, the impact of this
labour has not shown up in the country’s water reserves. The structures
were not designed to hold water. In most cases they were holes in the
ground that quickly filled up with soil by the next season.
But this is not the only reason for water desperation today. India has
prospered over these decades. This means today there is more demand
for water and less availability for saving.
Yet governments do not have a drought code that can handle this
situation. In bad old times, when there was drought, the British-designed
drought code would kick in. It meant that water for drinking would be
requisitioned by the local administration; fodder for animals would be
procured from long distances; livestock camps would be opened, and
food-for-work programmes would be started. The objective was to check
misery and as far as possible and stop distress migration to cities.
But this code is outdated. Water demand has increased mani-
fold. Today, cities drag water from miles away for their consumption.
Industries, including power plants, take what they can from where they
can. The water they use is returned as sewage or wastewater. Then farm-
ers grow water guzzling commercial crops, from sugarcane to banana.
They dig deeper and deeper into the ground to pump water for irrigation.
They have no way of telling when it will reach the point of no return. They
learn this only when the tubewell runs dry.
This modern-day drought of rich India has to be combined with
another development: climate change. The fact is that rain has become
even more variable, unseasonal and extreme. This will only exacerbate
the crisis. It is time we understood that since drought is human-made, it
can be reversed. But then we really need to get our act together.
First, we should do everything we can to augment water resourc-
es—catch every drop of water, store it and recharge groundwater. To do
this, we need to build millions of more structures, but this time based on
water planning and not just employment. This means being deliberate
and purposeful. It also means giving people the right to decide the loca-
tion of the waterbody and to manage it for their needs. Today, invariably,
the land on which the waterbody is built belongs to one department and
the land from where the water will be harvested belongs to another.
There is no synergy in this plan. There is no water that can be harvested.
The employment that will be provided during this drought must be used
to build security against the next one.
Second, revise and update the drought code. It is not as if the richer
parts of the world do not have droughts. Australia and California have
gone through years of water scarcity. But their governments respond by
shutting off all non-essential water use, from watering lawns to hosing
down cars. This is what is needed in India.
Third, obsessively work to secure water in all times. This means insist-
ing on water codes for everyday India. We need to reduce water usage
in all sectors, from agriculture to industry. This means benchmarking
water use and setting targets for reduced consumption year on year. It
would mean doing everything from introducing water-efficient fixtures to
promoting water-frugal foods. It means making our war against drought
permanent. Only then will drought not become permanent. n
In 2016, India was flooded with stories of water scarcity as the country
faced one of the worst droughts in recent history. As in the past, the issue
of how to manage water, and in such a way that everybody gets equal
share is being discussed aggressively. And as usual, some are throwing up
the old idea of privatising the business of water. Reportedly, niti Aayog,
India’s planning agency, has started a discussion on how to monetise the
water sector.
Excessive heat and little light is how I would describe discussions
on the privatisation of water. Protagonists say this is the magic bullet
that will deliver safe water for all. Antagonists insist the private sector is
interested only in profit, not in public good. Their claim that “rivers are
being sold to multinationals” evokes outrage.
So where does the truth—if there is anything of the kind left—lie?
Way back in 2003, a French multinational, Degremont, was awarded
a contract by the Delhi Jal Board, a state-owned water authority, to treat
raw water for supply to Delhi’s residents. This water was to come from
the river Ganga. And at a stupendous cost: pipelines were to be laid over
long distances to meet the guzzling city’s needs. The cost of building
the pipelines and transporting water remained with the State. But as a
company would build and run the water treatment facility, it became a
privatisation model. In this build and operate scheme, the State still set
tariffs, collected revenues and managed the overall water services.
In the second model, the responsibility shifts to the private entity.
The state plays, at best, a regulatory role. The problem arises when the
“entity” sets tariffs—to pay for operating costs and to rake in profits—for
a service like water. For instance, in Metro-Manila in the Philippines, a
successful privatisation venture ran into trouble when local politicians
blocked water multinational Suez SA’s moves to increase the rates.
Water is a business, and if not profitable, the company moves out. Even
for it through worsening health. The relatively rich, in stark contrast, are
grossly subsidised.
But this is only half the story. The main cost is not in providing clean
water, but in taking back the flushed dirty water in the sewage systems
and treating it before discharging it into rivers. We know that sewage and
drainage costs can be as high as five to six times more than the cost of
water. And with increasing chemical pollution, water treatment costs are
only going to increase. Urban populations do not even think about this, let
alone pay. Therefore, literally, they are subsidised to defecate in conveni-
ence. No wonder we have massive water pollution problems.
Privatisation or not, the subsidised middle class of the develop-
ing world cannot and will not pay the true costs of water and sewage.
Therefore, is the issue more about the re-appropriation of this natural
monopoly by the poor, and not about privatisation per se? Is the private
sector the devil? Or the State? Or both?
These questions continue to haunt me, but let me try and work
towards some resolution. Firstly, there is the issue of pricing of water for
the relatively rich of the developing world. It is evident that urban and
industrial sectors in the developing world have not even begun to pay
for the water they use; indeed, they misuse it in their toilets and factories.
Therefore, municipalities are bankrupt and this, along with all other ineffi-
ciencies, makes them lousy service providers. The private sector is, in this
circumstance, given a messianic role, because good credit rating can bring
in financial investment, those “billions” needed to provide safe water for all.
The question arises: is the contract that is signed between the private
entity—interested in profits—and the public entity incapable of raising
profits fair? Clearly not. The municipality or local government will either
see the private sector as an instrument to recover money from subsi-
dised consumers, or simply see it as a way to provide some efficiency
even as the government continues to subsidise its consumers and also
pays the private sector its pound of flesh.
All this is done in the name of the poor in this strangely “socialist”
country of ours. This, when all politicians realise that it is the rich, or at
least the relatively rich, that guzzle water and that it is they who are being
subsidised. The poor get a few bucketfuls; studies clearly show they pay
Who does the water under the ground belong to? Who has the right
to exploit it? Are there limits on what can be extracted? Groundwater
under Indian law belongs to the person who owns the land. In other
words, the owner of the land is the de facto and de jure owner of the
resource underneath. But as the amount of groundwater that can be
exploited does not depend on the amount of land owned, in effect, there
are no limits to how much can be extracted. Exploitation, therefore,
depends simply on the money to drill deep, electricity to pump and of
course, water available in the aquifers below.
But this was till the Kerala High Court in 2003, listening to the
matter of groundwater use by Coca-Cola company in Palakkad district,
judged that it was time to look afresh at the use of resources meant for
public use. Justice K Balakrishnan Nair deliberated on how this legal
provision, which gives unfettered rights to the landowner to extract
groundwater, was adversely affecting people living in the vicinity. He
judged that underground water belonged to the public, with the State
as trustee, its duty being to prevent overuse. “The inaction of the State
in this regard will be tantamount to infringement of the right to life of
the people guaranteed under Article 21 of the Constitution of India,” he
ruled. Therefore, if the panchayat and the State are duty-bound to ward
off excessive exploitation, it would also mean the landowner does not
have unfettered rights to the water beneath.
The matter pertained to the use of water by a large water-consuming
industry, and the judge ruled that this “extraction of water at the admit-
ted amounts by the 2nd respondent (Coca-Cola Company) is illegal”.
He argued that the panchayat in Kerala state had been made responsible
to maintain traditional water sources and, therefore, was duty bound
to prevent overexploitation of a resource held by it in trust. The judge-
ment directed that the company should not have unrestrained rights
{ Water wars
Conflicts are spreading across India due to
poverty of policy
It is often said that the next war in the world will be fought over water.
I do not know if this prophecy will come true. But I do know that skir-
mishes and even full-fledged battles over water are here to stay in India.
And I also know that these battles are deliberate and willful creation of
governments and their policies.
Let me take the case in Sriganganagar district, Rajasthan. Four farmers
were killed in police firing in November 2004 as they were agitating for
their share of irrigation water. The fact is that these farmers were settled
in the desert by the government. They were brought there to cultivate
the arid land, make it prosperous with waters of the Rajasthan canal. The
government gave each farmer 6.32 hectares (ha) of land for a nominal
long-term interest free payment. The plan was quite simple. Rajasthan’s
desert was to bloom like the fertile lands of Punjab and Haryana. Farmers
were encouraged to intensify their agricultural practices. By 1983, things
were looking good: over 244,000 ha land was being irrigated and the
desert was in bloom. The government’s policy told farmers that the water
was theirs to take. The policy encouraged them to grow crops, which
used up irrigation water—wheat, cotton and even rice.
But there is one homily that never fails to hit home: there is never
enough water. The fact is that government was planning phase II of the
project, when the canal would extend deeper into the desert and more
areas would be brought under irrigation. The water was to be shared
ultimately over an area, which would double the irrigated area of phase I.
But the project had other water demanders. As cities and industries in the
desert grew thirsty, the canal water was diverted to them.
Then there is the oft-repeated allegation that the upstream state
has reneged on its commitment of releasing the water allocated to the
canal. But monitoring and administrative mechanisms, which should
confirm this allegation, do not exist. The government had decreed by
policy that farmers living on the sides of the feeder canal, taking water to
the desert, would not use its waters: it was “reserved”. But policy cannot
dictate thirsty farmers. The canal was breached and its water taken out,
so allege its downstream claimants. So, on one hand, secure in the policy
of plentiful water, farmers increased water use. On the other hand, pol-
icy continued to create more demand. The situation was gently stoked
towards a conflict. The fact is policy could have fostered a water-prudent
society, if only it had been designed to accept that water will never be
enough—however plentiful, it might seem.
The fact is that water was brought into the desert, which has a spe-
cific agro-economy. It is based on animals, and not on crops. Water is
scare, so it is used, not to irrigate crops, but to grow fodder for animals to
survive. The land is used to grow grasses or trees, which provide fodder
in critical winter months. The system is geared to optimise productivity,
not of land but of each drop of water. It’s meant to transform waterdrops
into milk, wool and meat. Similarly, if drinking water needs of rural
households and even large urban townships are harnessed carefully from
rain, the inhabitants will not need to appropriate from the region beyond.
Therefore, if policy had respected water frugality, it would have
designed a supportive structure to enhance productivity, without suc-
cumbing to water greed. For instance, it could have ensured that irrigation
water was given first to the common grazing lands, so that the desert
economy prospered. Even the agriculture could have been centered
on this animal-milk economy. Then, it could have maintained that all
rural-urban centers and industries would have to first meet their water
needs from their rain endowment and only the deficit would be made
good by the water from the canal.
The fact is that we need to learn this policy prescription fast. Water
tensions are on the increase across the country. When Chennai looks
for its drinking water at the Veeranam Lake, farmers agitate against the
withdrawal for the thirsty city. The desperation for water is real. And
the conflicts will not just simmer, but burn in times to come. Until pol-
icy begins to respect the idea that frugality is not about poverty. Until it
acknowledges that scarcity is not about the lack of resources, but about
being wise in using resources; until policy is not poor. n
bottled water. In 2007, junk food giant Pepsi was forced to admit in the
US that Aquafina, its bottled water, was nothing more than tap water. It
agreed to label its bottles to say what it didn’t want to: Aquafina was tap
water from a public water source.
The bottled water industry is in a damage control mode. But I believe
that this scream could easily become a shout as people realise the envi-
ronmental cost of this product and realise the sheer stupidity of paying
dearly for something that is cheaper and readily available.
Bottled water is growing big time in India. The industry was worth
US $160 billion in 2013 and it is estimated to be worth US $160 billion
in 2018. But in India, bottled water is growing as an item of necessity.
Private industry is meeting the drinking water demand that public utili-
ties don’t meet. People are paying prices that they cannot afford because
they have no alternative.
In India, this water does not come from municipal taps, but from
groundwater. Companies simply drill a hole in the ground, pump and
clean (sometimes) to bottle it and then transport it to cities. Simply put,
this is the privatisation of drinking water.
The fact is that bottled water is no different from water that should
come from our taps. The only difference is it is packed in plastic and not
conveyed in pipelines. But, while the Indian rich can afford to buy bot-
tled water, the poor cannot. The rich have the choice and they opt out
of the failing municipal systems. What is forgotten is that Indian water
systems are failing because the rich in the country—who can afford bot-
tled water—are still supplied water at a 10th of what it costs the munici-
pality. Worse, our wastewater is conveyed and pumped from our homes
and even treated (at times). None of these costs are recovered. In other
words, it is our subsidy which is leading to poorer and poorer delivery
from water agencies. It is the rich, who have the option to drink bottled
water, who are failing the system. n
then Himalayan rivers. Its objective is based on the same simple concept:
there are floods in some parts, droughts in the other, so if we link the
rivers, we will all be happy.
But for equally obvious reasons the agency’s proposals were, govern-
ment after government, studied, considered and buried. But not forever.
In early 2000, the Supreme Court and government got back into the
game. The court ordered the government to speed up implementation of
the project and set the deadline of 2016 for its completion. The National
Democratic Alliance, then in power, quickly announced the setting up
of a task force for linking rivers. It was to complete some 30 river links in
two years, adding some 1,000 km of canals. This task was a non-starter.
The next government came to power and while the concept
appealed, better sense prevailed. Interlinking was found technically
unfeasible and costly. But the water bureaucracy did not give up. In
2008, the National Council of Applied Economic Research produced a
study volume, in which it explained in simplistic terms that the project
would cost R444,331.2 crore at the 2003-2004 rates. But this investment
would lead to rich dividends in terms of increased household income
and prosperity for all, it stated. The report would have gone unnoticed,
but for the Supreme Court, which has bought this line and ordered the
government to obey or face contempt.
The question still is: what does this project imply, given that a mas-
sive number of irrigation projects on the government’s wish list remain
incomplete? First, it implies the notion that there is a huge surplus of
water in river basins. This assumption is flawed. Most river basins today
are overextended in usage, and in most regions, tension is growing
between old rural users of surface water and new industrial and urban
users. The Mahanadi basin, which would be linked to the Godavari is a
classic example of this error. There is little unallocated water in the basin.
The second assumption that floodwaters can be channelised is
equally erroneous. The fact is when one river is in spate so is the next
river, and transferring water would require huge storage facilities.
Construction of large reservoirs has massive environmental impacts not
considered in the scheme. Many irrigation projects are stalled on this
count. More importantly, the government’s track record in resettling
money on our forest wealth. But we need to learn how to make money
without destroying the forests. It is here that we must learn from our
mistakes, to build forest policies that have a future.
We know our forest lands are populated and intensely “used”. We
know livestock pressure on them is high and that animals suppress
regeneration. At the same time, people need forests for their livelihood
needs. Currently, bureaucracies manage these lands. They pay lip service
to community forest development and joint forest management. But the
truth is that vast swathes of forest land in the country lie underutilised
and remain unproductive, simply because we have not learnt how to
increase productivity by involving the people who use these increasingly
degraded lands. If we were to learn from our mistakes, we could invest
in these lands, to build economic futures. We could plant trees; we
could cut and sell. Make money from. When people will earn, they will
also plant once again. There will be jobs, economic prosperity. In short,
we need a policy that values our forests and a policy that increases the
value of our forests. Our forests are too important to be left unused and
uncared for. n
waste—could be afforested?
Government accepted this view. The national forest policy of 1988
incorporated our proposition and asked industry to go to farmers to
grow trees. But industry kept the fire burning. Every new minister was
sold this magic pill: give degraded forest land to industry, which will use
its immense financial and managerial prowess to afforest India. Each
time this proposition was raised, it was opposed. But it is one of those
ideas that continues to simmer. Recently, the National Democratic
Alliance (nda) government issued guidelines for the participation of
the private sector in afforestation of degraded forests. The reasons are
usual: improving productivity of degraded forest lands, enhancing forest
financing and enhanced material availability for industry.
This message needs to be heard. Clearly. There is no denying indus-
try will remain a voracious user of wood. The question is of strategy: can
we turn this threat into an opportunity, so that growing trees becomes
an enterprise for rural households—rich and poor? The potential is out
there. The space for wood sourced directly from farmers is increasing in
the marketplace. Farm-grown wood has even begun fighting an unfair
competition with the forest department, whose cheaper wood distorts
the market.
The pattern is changing also because some paper companies are show-
ing enormous ingenuity in building up this sustainable supply chain. They
are working with farmers, dramatically improving the yields of wood, so
that instead of the 6-10 tonnes per ha that the forest department would
cut, farmers can reap up to 200 tonnes of wood from each ha of their land.
Even on unirrigated lands, yields go up to 50-70 tonnes and the farmers
find that money does really grow on trees. The key, these companies find,
is that sustainability of their supply lies in sustaining the farmer’s interest.
Trees take time to grow. If the price fluctuates or news of a crash
spreads, farmers will speedily switch to whatever gets them a return
on their investment. They are quick learners. They are survivors. So,
the onus is on the industry. In the late 1980s, as wood grown by farm-
ers reached the markets, it was industry that had forced the market to
crash. It successfully arm twisted the government into supplying cheap
wood from its forests. It also persuaded the government, using the
“She has never seen a tiger.” This is how some conservationists ques-
tioned my credentials to chair the tiger task force set up by the then
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh in 2005. It did not surprise me. Cola,
pesticide or diesel car-making companies reacted precisely like this to my
work. Discredit the messenger and hope the message also gets dismissed.
But it did worry me. Here were people we work with. Saving the tiger
is surely common to all environmentalists. So, was it really so important
for me to have seen a tiger to have the expertise for what could be done
to safeguard it? Why did I need to prove my “loyalty”? After all, this was
not the fanaticism of religious extremism or the jingoism of right-wing
nationalism. Was it?
The task was to understand how to secure the tiger’s future. It was
clear the tiger was under threat on many fronts. There was the poacher,
whose network extended from the poor hunter to sophisticated trade
cartels. There was the miner and developer, out to grab the tiger’s home.
Then there were the desperately poor people sharing the tiger’s habitat.
We needed to understand what had been done so far—successfully or
unsuccessfully—to find answers.
We learnt how critical conservation history was to the tiger’s future.
Project Tiger began over 40 years ago, amidst international concern and
foreign advisors who believed large areas—reserves—would have to be
set aside just for the tiger. The history I read showed the Indian archi-
tects of this programme knew—even then—this was not possible in this
densely populated country. They fiddled with the concept of creating
reserves, embedding them within larger landscapes of forests so that the
tiger could roam and multiply. They knew coexistence was critical. By
the early 1980s—just 10 years after Project Tiger began—they realised it
would need innovative strategies to involve people in regenerating lands,
so that tiger habitat could expand. Without this, they knew, the ‘islands’
of conservation would be lost over time.
Sadly, this message never went home. What happened instead was
this: on the one hand the threat to the tiger grew; on the other, protec-
tors responded by raising the barricades higher. Their paranoia grew;
they began to believe everybody else was increasingly against the tiger.
Their solution should have worked. But the fact was the war of conser-
vation began to be lost.
Each time a tiger crisis hit headlines, and it did many times in the last
30 years, the response was: more guns, more guards, more fences. Sariska
Tiger Reserve received over R1 crore per tiger in the first 25 years of its
existence, against the national average of R24 lakh per tiger. It received
over R2.58 lakh per sq km over this period (the average for the rest of the
reserves was a little over R1 lakh per sq km). Yet Sariska lost all its tigers. In
short, money and infrastructure for protection was not the simple answer.
Our inquiries taught us many things that need to be done. We must
throw a protective ring around the tiger, not by deploying more armed
forces but carefully improving internal management and scrutiny so
that defences will not fail. We have to break wildlife crime, by building
investigative and forensic capacities; most of all, we have to amend the
criminal provisions of the Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, so that the
poacher can actually be convicted.
But all this is half the work. In over 40 years of conservation, we have
never really discussed what has to be done about the people that share
the tiger’s home. Most reports or policies for wildlife conservation talk
notionally about them; they either fail to mention their existence or
dismiss it.
The people who protect the tiger believe people and tigers cannot
coexist. This logjam—tigers versus people, or for people—had to be
resolved. It was not about polemics, but the reality of winning the war
of conservation. We sought answers. How many people lived in the
reserves? How many were relocated? How much land was needed for
relocation? How much money? Nobody knew.
We sought replies. The answer was: very few villagers were in fact
relocated from the country’s 28 tiger reserves. Relocation was fraught.
Many of the relocated had returned, or turned against the park. The law
provided that the rights of people had to be settled before a protected area
{Index
A E
Aerosols, 61 El Ni o, 24
Afforestation, 179 Energy Conservation Building
Anil Agarwal, 14, 63, 65, 118, 152, 179 Code, 108, 109
C
G
Cancun CoP, 30
Ganga Action Plan/Yamuna Action
Captain Dinshaw J Dastur, 167 Plan/National River Action Plan,
Cargill, 143 43, 170, 171, 172, 173
Census 2011, 55, 56, 62, Genetically modified crops, 134, 135,
Centre for Science and 136, 137
Environment, 21, 44, 63, 78, 130, Germany, 49, 112
136, 141, 145 Global Burden of Disease Report, 61
Central Electricity Authority, Green buildings, 106, 107, 108, 109
170, 172
Chad-Cameroon oil pipeline
project, 89 H
Chhattisgarh Renewable Energy Honey/antibiotics, 144, 145
Development Agency, 70
Honeywell, DuPont, 29
Chennai/Kashmir floods, 23, 38, 164
Holkars, 111
Chipko movement, 8, 184
HFCs/CFCs/HCFCs/HFOs, 28, 29
China, 21, 31, 32, 33, 34, 62
Chulha (cookstove), 60, 61, 62, 63
Copenhagen CoP, 17 I
Indian Institute of Technology,
Roorkee, 172
D Influenza virus/chicken, 138
Delhi Jal Board, 98, 155 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate
Drought, 152, 153, 154, 155 Change, 24, 25
Durban CoP, 16 International Energy Agency, 77
O
L Occupy Wall Street movement, 86
Lanco, 78 Omega, 141, 142
Lehman Brothers, 87 Organisation for Economic
Cooperation and Development, 77
Orbital Motorway, 122
M Ozone, 29
Madhav Gadgil, 188, 189
Mahatma Gandhi National Rural
Employment Guarantee Act, 91, 153 P
Maheshwar dam, 111 Paris CoP, 35, 37, 38, 39
Malaria, 69 PepsiCo, Coca-cola, 130, 160
Maneka Gandhi, 14 Pondy Citizens’ Action Network, 114
Manmohan Singh, 93, 94, 191, 192 Prime Minister’s Office, 53
Maoist, 182 Probir Banerjee, 114, 115
Mark Rutte, 74
Maruti, 119, 125
Monsoon, 31
R
Rahul Gandhi, 84
Monsanto, 135
River interlinking, 167, 168
Monounsaturated fatty acid,
polyunsaturated fatty acid, 141 Rome, 45
Montreal Protocol, 28, 29
Mumbai flood, 45 S
Myles Allen, 23, 24 Sarva Siksha Abhiyan, 53, 54
School toilets, 52
N Sewage Treatment Plant, 43, 48,
49, 51
Nano, 125, 126, 127
Sheonath river, 156
Narendra Modi, 25, 52, 93, 126
Sino-US deal, 32
National Building Code, 108
Stockholm Environment
Institute, 17
X
Stockholm Water Symposium, 42
Xi Jinping, 33
Subansiri project, 67
Africa, 8, 62
Supreme Court, 48, 167, 168, 179
Survival emissions, 14
Suez SA, 155
Swachh Bharat Mission, 55
Sweden, 75
T
Tata, 125, 126, 183
The New York Times/BBC, 36
Tiger, 191, 192, 193
Time magazine, 85
Tyson Foods, 138
U
Union Budget, 54
Union Ministry of New and
Renewable Energy, 71
United Nations, 89
UNFCCC, 28, 29, 35
United Progressive Alliance,
84, 91
USA, 21, 22, 28, 88, 89, 119, 121, 138
Uno Winblad, 42
Uttarakhand floods, 25
V
Veeranam Lake, 164
W
Water supply 24X7, 50
Western Ghats, 167, 188, 189, 190
World Bank, 50, 89
DownToEarth BOOKS
n State of India’s Environment Report-2016
n State Of India’s Environment 2016 : In Figures (e-book)
n Body Burden 2015 - State of India’s Health
n Why Urban India Floods (e-book)
n Environmental History Reader
n First Food: A Taste of India’s Biodiversity
n Bhopal Gas Tragedy After 30 Years
Down To Earth
FORTNIGHTLY ON POLITICS OF DEVELOPMENT,
ENVIRONMENT AND HEALTH, SINCE 1992