‘AMKA NAKA’: IIT, COAL HUB, AND DEVELOPMENT

 

From Canacona to Sattari, the chorus is loud and clear: ‘Amka Naka.’ Goans once again in large numbers are saying no to ‘mega projects,’ be it an IIT (that was shifted from Canancona to Sanguem) in Sattari, or the expansion of the coal hub in Mormugao with the supplementary project of double-tracking the South-Western railway line. Underlying these vociferous protests is a rejection of an economic model, called ‘development,’ that destroys the livelihoods and landscape of Goans, and a political establishment that promotes such crony capitalist ventures. This development makes Goans and Goa disposable in the interest of (inter)national businesses.

 

Of course, this is not the first time that Goans have said no to such development. From the 1970s, the Goan economy began to change from one based on mining to one that diversified into tourism. Mining did not stop, of course, to the extent that mining and tourism became the joint ‘backbone’ of the Goan economy. The then MGP government, though not necessarily open to external capital, and which focused much of its energies on domestic agrarian reforms, nonetheless promoted tourism to boost the Goan economy. In both industries, particularly in the new tourism industry, conflicts over land control and ownership were rampant.

 

But, from the 1980s, the tourism industry was the chief site where these conflicts over land control and ownership were played out. It was an old conflict, no doubt, between the bhatcars and mundcars, but the difference now was that Goa was open to national and global capital. The fanfare around the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) in New Delhi in 1983, with a retreat organized in Goa, is a watershed moment that ushered widespread urbanization and tourism-related conflicts in Goan coastal villages.

 

The takeover of land by the tourism industry was resisted right from the start. Back in 1983, it was widely reported that Goans were resisting. Josephine Lobo and Preciosa Menezes, then in their seventies, fought against the expansion plans of a starred resort in Candolim. While the fight predated the CHOGM event, the starred hotel in question seemed to use the opportunity provided by CHOGM, with the massive government investment and interest to ‘get things done’, to finally acquire some coconut orchards owned by the two septuagenarians mentioned above.

 

Things only got worse in the 1990s. The promotion of tourism required more starred hotels and more land, especially from the mundcars, who had become owners of small holdings thanks to the Bandodkarite land reforms of 1964. One could think of the well-known case of a Japanese retirement village that was opposed successfully, which also brought tourism’s links to land use to the fore. Simultaneously with the conflicts over land, there were deep-seated cultural changes that the coastal towns experienced. Studies and surveys that document these changes highlight how the school dropout rates increased by leaps and bounds in the 1990s.

 

In the 2000s, while tourism continued to grow unsustainably, the demand for iron ore increased due to the Beijing Olympics. The result was one of the wholesale destruction of the forested regions of Goa. The mining companies promoted local Goans to invest in trucks to transport the ore. The illegalities in the sector and the destructive extraction of the ore led to an investigation under Justice Shah. Mining thus came to a sudden halt due to the order of the Supreme Court. Those Goans who had invested in trucks were the ones who were severely affected, not to mention as well the agrarian communities in the mining belt whose fields were affected due to the waste from nearby mines.

 

But despite such obvious experience of how destructive the economy of Goa was, successive governments—be it Congress or BJP—pushed for a more significant share of tourism, and showed no interest or initiative to recover the dues of the illegally-extracted iron ores from the defaulting companies. At the very least, the political establishment could have tried to redeem themselves by formulating better economic policies in the wake of massive scandals and illegalities in these ‘backbone’ sectors. In other words, they could have thought about a better alternative and worked towards its realization through policymaking. Instead, we were given more mega projects in the form of IITs and coal hubs!

 

I have focused only on the major economic trends and the protests against them. There were other equally essential protests such as the Ramponnkar’s agitation against mechanized fishing, the bitter opposition to the Konkan Railway single track, or the movement against turning Goa into a Special Economic Zone (SEZ). Nonetheless, it is clear that since the early 1970s—that is after Goa was made a part of the Indian Union—successive governments have pushed Goa and Goans to the brink of an economic and environmental crisis.

 

Since the 1970s (at least), Goa has been experiencing the fallout of ‘development.’ Such a model, with its emphasis on infrastructure and industry, was touted as a solution to global poverty, especially after WWII. In simpler terms, or the common parlance of election discourse in Goa, ‘development’ means roads, water supply, and other necessary services. But to understand what development truly means, one must look at the destruction of Goa’s man-made and natural infrastructure by the mining and tourism sectors. There is no better way of doing business in the ‘development’ model.

 

With all of us facing the ill-effects of COVID, this destructive economic model patronised by the political establishment is untenable. Hence, when localized protests assert that “Amka naka IIT,” or “Amka naka kollso,” they should also unanimously assert that “Amka naka development.”

 

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 5 November, 2020)

ENVIRONMENT AND CULTURE: TAKING STOCK OF 2017

Standing on the cusp of the New Year, it is useful to reflect on the year gone by. This we do with the hope that the inevitable new beginning will be better than what we experienced in the past, in terms of our personal and public existence. And in that spirit, I think, we should take every opportunity to evaluate our political, social, and cultural existence during the past year.

Environmental and cultural concerns can be argued to have dominated the political discourse in Goa in 2017. Indeed, the protests articulated in places like Mopa and Sonshi demonstrated how environment and culture influenced the present discourse on Goan identity. The year witnessed a massive public hearing on an environmental issue. Choking on coal dust, many gathered in Vasco to make their grievances heard. This unprecedented event signaled yet again the growing sense that Goa’s environment and ecological health is endangered, and, if not addressed urgently, will lead to an unmitigated disaster.

Similar to the urgency to address the issue of coal handling and pollution to stop Goa’s environment from deteriorating, the resistance to the development of mega infrastructure projects, such as the new greenfield airport at Mopa, in Pernem, was also in the news. We are also witnessing opposition to other projects, like the double-tracking of the Konkan railway route, the re-starting of mining and the effects there of. This time around, many activists have successfully tried to shift the discourse to demonstrate how aspects of Goan economy fit in a larger system of global capitalism. An increasing number of Goans can be said to have realized that they are being reduced to cogs in the larger system of capitalism. There is awareness that a remote Goan village is not isolated, on the contrary it is linked to distant industrial or commercial hubs. However, the awareness of how global capitalism is a continuum of feudal (or feudal like) system of land ownership and control prevalent in Goa is still lacking; one hopes that it will be a part of mainstream political discourse soon.

There are instances where the issues are old but the sites of protest and resistance have shifted to new villages or areas. Nonetheless, it is becoming increasingly clear to all that urban and rural Goa is categorically speaking out: Goa’s ecology and the quality of life of Goans are under threat.

Concerns with the environment were closely linked with those of preserving Goa’s culture. In fact, one’s identity cannot exist without the interplay of the environment and cultural productions. Identity, then, was a common thread that ran through the various protests and grievances articulated in the course of this year, as it has been over the last several years. The allusion to the intertwining of identity and environmental issues does not simply refer to the utterly cynical politicking over the coconut tree – being de-notified and re-notified on governmental whims – but rather upon instances wherein Goa’s identity and the belonging of Goans in a wider world was debated; indeed the discussion only deepened by acknowledging the complex history and culture of Goa.

António Costa, the Portuguese Prime Minister, who visited India in January, provided the occasion for re-thinking the cultural belonging of Goans; particularly their connections with Portugal and other Lusophone spaces. Costa, who has Goan ancestry, was celebrated in Goa as well as in India for possessing Indian roots. Minor details like Costa or his father, Orlando Costa, having no connection with the modern Indian nation-state did not deter the grandiose celebrations of homecoming. Even those most critical of Goa’s continued contacts with Portugal and Portuguese culture maintained a somewhat uneasy silence. Of course, it helped matters much that Costa came with the intention of fostering business ties with India and Portugal. But even while Costa’s Indian roots were celebrated, one thing became inevitable clear: Goa and Goans are still undeniably connected with Portugal through history, culture, and migration.

The major events within the spheres of environment and culture – the protests, debates, and discussions of future visions – occurred within a political system. This is the system that needs to hear our grievances and resolve them. We, the people, elect our representatives who are entrusted to run the system. Indian democracy that is built on periodic elections is based on the assumption that one person – or one citizen – has one vote, and this vote has one value. This means that everyone in the country, who has the right to vote, indeed exercises this franchise, are equal with other citizens of the country. This, however, is not the case in reality as caste and class differences obstruct the true realization of democracy in India.

In short, because of the existing social and economic conditions, the political system is unable to represent the interests of all – or at least most of us. Laws and policies are therefore made not to protect the interest of all constituents in the polity, but only to further the interests of a few. This is why one witnesses draconian laws enacted and executive fiats beings issued that impinge on the rights and livelihood of millions of people in the country. Of the many challenge in the New Year, and those that will follow in the years to come, the most important one is to make good of the promise that political representation would lead to the empowerment of all citizens.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 20 December, 2017)

MORMUGAO TO MOPA: A CASE OF (OB)NOXIOUS DEVELOPMENT

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)