There should by now be no doubt in our
minds that any large infrastructure development in India happens only through
the destruction of resources like land, water, and air. This economic system is
largely the legacy of British colonialism and Nehruvian socialist policies that
promoted large scale land acquisitions and mega projects such as massive dams
and industries. The many protests and demonstrations that one witnesses against
polluting industries and wholesale land acquisitions in India is a fallout of
this process initiated by the British Raj and followed through – ostensibly due
to national interest – by
the independent nation-state of India.
The excellent reportage by Smita Nair (in
a reputed national daily and also published in O Heraldo) on the coal transportation corridor from Mormugao
Port to Bellary clearly reveals that people – through whose houses and villages
this new corridor passes – have no say
whatsoever in governmental policies even when they destroy their lives and
livelihoods. Several studies that predict an ecological disaster and even a
massive public hearing – unprecedented in the history of India – which provided
enough testimonials on how the expansion of coal handling would affect (and is
affecting) the people of Goa, seems to have fallen on deaf ears. In short,
‘development’ as it currently unfolds in Goa is a destruction of
life-sustaining resources and a direct assault on the lives of the people.
The responses by those who are affected
by the developments in Vasco and other areas, through which the coal is
transported by road, rivers, and rail, is indicative of a shift in the debate.
For this reason, it is important to dwell on these responses together and
understand their implications for the future. I have selected these responses
dealing only with the need for infrastructure such as roads, public transport,
and hospitals. These responses indicate to us that we do have a way to
prioritize the needs of the locals over and above everything else.
Lumina D’Costa Almeida is categorical in
her understanding
that the Goan way of life is antithetical to the development of the
government-corporate combine: “You bring highways and a sense of hurriedness.
You won’t appreciate susegad (a ‘quiet’ life) and its importance for a healthy
living. Your definition of development is different from ours”. This
development is often promoted without any proper information given to the
public. As Dan Vaz says,
“The highways are being made into four lanes, six lanes. No one is telling us
what they are being widened for. When we say we do not want such unplanned
infrastructure, we are told it is in the national interest”. Obviously, the
locals see no improvement in their lives, as Meena Barretto asserts,
“Without expanding public transport for locals, they are building highways for
the trucks”. That the basic infrastructure needs of the locals are not
satisfied is clearly visible in Zulema Barros Pereira’s plea
to “[g]ive us a hospital first”.
If one puts together these various views,
what is the picture that emerges? First, the state has grossly failed to
provide basic infrastructure to the public. Despite this obvious and glaring
shortcoming, the state is reluctant to recognize its fault. Rather, the state
chooses to cover up its shortcomings by promoting mega projects that further
deplete the quality of life of its citizens. Secondly, the state does not view
the citizens as stakeholders in the economic and political future of the land.
If indeed the citizens were seen as stakeholders, Goa would not have witnessed
the government-corporate combine trying to bulldoze its way through villages
and forests.
But why do we need all this development
if its effects are disastrous? Stated in another way, how is such development
justified in the first place? The simple answer to this – one that politicians
often give – is the need to create jobs. The casino industry can be a good
example: while it was promoted
or justified as creating employment for locals,
the recent migration of peoples from the ‘northeast’ regions of India to
service this industry indicates that local
Goans either don’t want to, can’t find or are not given employment in this
sector. The same is true of the five star hotel industry. And now we are witness
to the same ‘it-will-create-jobs’ rhetoric as far as Mopa airport is concerned.
Some days back, some 15 persons, each belonging to 15 Dhangar families affected
by the Greenfield airport, were given appointment letters – to what post
exactly? – by the private firm that is developing the airport. Only 15 so far
in an airport that projects to service millions of passengers. Obviously, many more
people will be needed from outside the state to service the airport once it is
ready.
But the point that needs to be stressed
is how the pattern of development is similar in the cases discussed above: entailing
the widespread destruction of natural resources. Environmental damage, whether
caused in Vasco or Mopa, will impact other places. What good are jobs when
people will not be able to breathe properly?
The notion of development needs to
change within Goan and Indian politics. Thus, rather than a
vague idea of development led by government and
corporate, every election needs to see people demanding a collective future for
Goa, one that is infused with the vocabularies of human rights, people’s
participation, and the privileging of the local people – and not just one
section of the populace over the other. Goa’s decades-long struggles for
protecting its identity and environment have led us to collectively ask the
right question today: whom is this development for?
(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 8 November, 2017)
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