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THE NARMADA: DEATH OF A RIVER

Shripad Dharmadhikary

It is a hot summer day in late April and the village of Chota Badada in Badwani district of Madhya Pradesh is buzzing with activity. An already packed day for the farmers, workers, boatpeople, fisherfolk, potters, brick makers, sand miners, petty shopkeepers and others is overstretched, as it is the peak marriage season. In this scene, typical of hundreds of villages in the area, a banner slung across the entrance to the village stands out as an oddity. It says: ‘This entire village has been resettled. If you see anyone here, they are only ghosts.’ The banner is a searing comment by the villagers on the claim of the Madhya Pradesh Government that this village—one of the many to be affected by the Sardar Sarovar Dam—has been fully resettled. On paper, the village does not exist anymore. But in reality it is there, as it has been for generations. Chota Badada is not an exception.

No wonder that a committee of Union ministers led by the minister for water resources, which toured the areas affected by the Sardar Sarovar Dam in April 2006, found that the reports of rehabilitation ‘on the basis of which the Narmada Control Authority (NCA) (had) granted permission for raising the height has been largely paperwork, and it has no relevance with the situation on the ground.’ On 8 March 2006, the NCA had given permission to raise the height of the Sardar Sarovar Dam on the Narmada River from 110.62 metres to 121.92 metres. This was on the basis of the above-mentioned reports, which the authority had not even found the need to crosscheck. The Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) protested this, and launched a dharna (sit-in) and fast in New Delhi in April 2006 calling for a halt on the construction work and a comprehensive review of the status of rehabilitation.

For days to follow, the country’s attention was focused on the issue. If there was one point of consensus, it was that the people affected by the dam needed to be properly resettled. A leading national newspaper, writing about the Narmada issue in its editorial some time back, had stated: ‘It is nobody’s case that communities affected by the project should not be properly rehabilitated.’ It may be difficult to believe, but this sentiment reflects a giant leap in the mindset of the nation. Yet, this comes more or less as a grudgingly made concession. It is important to understand this, to be able to understand the Narmada movement and the issues raised by it.

I
From Sacrifice to Resettlement

When I joined the NBA as an activist in the late 1980s, a common refrain about displacement was that development was sacrosanct, and someone had to make a sacrifice for the country’s progress. Some argued that, after all, one could not make an omelette without breaking an egg. Others spoke about how it was the obligation of the communities sitting on the country’s resources like water, minerals and forests to agree to the displacement; for not doing so was an indication of their unwillingness to share these resources with others. In short, to get displaced was seen as a duty of some communities, and development the right of others.

One of the important contributions of the struggle around the dams on the Narmada has been to challenge this belief: That to be able to displace is the God-given right of some, and to make way is the God-ordained duty of others. The NBA was successful in highlighting that displacement is a political decision and, invariably, those taking the decision and those suffering displacement are two different groups. As an organisation of the affected people, the earliest demand of the NBA was not that of proper rehabilitation. This, it said, would come second. First, it was essential to establish the justification of displacement. In other words, that the displacement is necessary and this necessity is in the larger public interest had to be shown first. For this, the NBA demanded that all the studies related to the project benefits and costs be made public. It asked questions about how these were to be distributed—who was to get the benefits and who were to bear the costs. It asked whether any other options, which could deliver similar benefits and avoid displacement, had been examined. Most importantly, the NBA also raised the question about who had examined all these issues, who had judged the balance of all this to be in favour of the project, and demanded that the affected people be given a central role in this process. The NBA also pointed out that even if the project—and hence displacement—was justified, the feasibility of proper rehabilitation needed to be established before a go-ahead could be given for the project. Given that several lakh people were to be displaced by the Sardar Sarovar Dam, this was essential.

These demands were virtually a challenge to the powers of the decision makers to displace people as they chose. The NBA backed up this challenge with the force of refusal to accept the displacement unless the questions raised by it were answered. It was this challenge to the existing power structures that brought on the sharp reaction to the NBA. The NBA was dubbed as obstructing development, misleading the oustees, and even as being anti-national. Clearly, the NBAs straying from an ‘acceptable’ role and questioning the existing structures was not taken kindly by the powers that be. As the strength of the struggle grew, the establishment responded by coming out with a ‘reasonable’ stand—all those displaced must be properly resettled—as against the ‘extreme’ stand of the NBA that the necessity and justification of displacement, and the feasibility of rehabilitation must be established.

This change from the stand that the nation demanded a sacrifice was a major victory for the NBA. Yet, in many ways, this was to be a booby prize. Three things made it so. First, the articulation that those displaced must be resettled was largely a lip service. In practice, resettlement has neither taken place, nor was there any real intention of making it happen. Secondly, the entitlement of resettlement was more in the nature of a patronage given by the powerful to the weak than as a right of the oustee. Hence, defining what constituted resettlement, how it was to be affected, and how it was to be monitored were all entirely the privilege of those displacing. Third, and most important, was the fact that this reasonable stand was taken precisely to deny any challenge to displacement itself. In other words, the displacement, the projects requiring it and the paradigm of development represented by it—all were non-negotiable.

II
Lip Service to Resettlement

In spite of saying that those displaced should be resettled, the state has acted in that direction only when pressurised by the agitations of the affected people. Even as the tenders were awarded for the Sardar Sarovar project, dam-site excavations had started, and villages began to be displaced. The project authorities did not even have a full and correct assessment of the number of people to be affected by the project. There was no resettlement plan, and the policy, though progressive in that it provided for land in lieu of land lost, had serious lacunae. Most important, there was little idea as to where the land was to come from to resettle people. The first policy revisions came in Gujarat only in the late 1980s after the affected people launched strong protests; other changes in policy were undertaken in response to further agitations. However, Madhya Pradesh remained reluctant to do much; and Maharashtra was in between Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh, in spite of the agitation.

More important, the whole approach to resettlement remained arbitrary and the people were at the mercy of the project authorities. For example, the project authorities refused to consider a large section of the affected people as eligible for the rehabilitation package. The people who lost land to the project colonies (six villages) and those losing land to the canal network were among these, even though many of them lost all or most of their lands, just as those affected by submergence. Indeed, even those whose lands would become islands in the reservoir were not considered affected for a long time since they would not be submerged!

Madhya Pradesh declared that overwhelming numbers of those eligible for resettlement would go to Gujarat, even though the choice of whether to settle in the home state or to go to Gujarat was the prerogative of the oustees. Thus, out of the 33,000 families to be affected in Madhya Pradesh, the state government said that about 14,000 would go to Gujarat, and virtually all of them were eligible for land; while the remaining 18,000 or so would stay in Madhya Pradesh; of these, just around 800 were eligible for land. Subsequently, Madhya Pradesh declared that it had no land to give to the people; so it brought out a special ‘package’, which was nothing but a slightly increased cash compensation. Thus, even the entitlements and how these were to be implemented were at the whims and fancies of the state.

Quite the worst was the timing of the displacement and rehabilitation. The Narmada Water Disputes Tribunal Award (NWDTA), which governs the project and the decision of which is equivalent to an order of the Supreme Court, laid down a clear sequence for the implementation of the resettlement. The spirit and the letter were absolutely unambiguous. Resettlement had to be completed in all respects well before submergence. In particular, it required the lands for resettlement to be identified one year in advance of submergence, and stated that under no circumstances would any of the lands be submerged before all the arrangements for resettlement were in place, and the oustees intimated. In practice this never happened, and large numbers of houses, lands and villages were submerged without full resettlement. This was the case even with those who had never challenged their displacement, and were willing to be resettled. Around the mid-1990s, there was an attempt to legitimise this by bringing in a concept called pari-passu. With this, the project authorities said that the work on the dam and the resettlement could go on together, side-by-side. Actually brought in to restrict the construction from running ahead of resettlement, the concept was used to negate that very intention.

Now, even this pretence no longer exists. The permission to raise the height was granted in March 2006 on the condition that resettlement would be completed by May 2006. This was done even when the acquisition of submerged land was incomplete in several villages, land for rehabilitation had not been identified, and the basic amenities like water, sewerage, electricity were nowhere in sight at the resettlement sites. This was not only a violation of the NWDTA, but also of the Supreme Court order which has said that the height could be raised only to the extent to which the resettlement had been completed. Given the abysmal performance of the Madhya Pradesh government, permission for work to proceed begged the question—what if Madhya Pradesh could not complete the resettlement in time? For, in June would come the monsoon and, with it, the submergence. Not only did the authorities not raise this question, but later they argued in the Supreme Court that this limit be extended till July.

III
A Question of Power

How can the State do this? This can be explained only when one understands that displacement is an exercise of power by the powerful in the society against those less powerful, in order to corner the resources of the country. Nothing exemplifies this more than the events around the protests by the NBA in April 2006. These protests caught the imagination of the nation and the media gave extensive coverage to the issue. What was significant was that the overwhelming part of the media coverage highlighted the fact that resettlement had not been done. The Central Government’s own committee noted this unequivocally. The Madhya Pradesh government too admitted that work on resettlement was still going on. Yet, the authorities did not bother to stop the work. They were not even apologetic about the fact that construction had been permitted and was progressing without any resettlement worth the name. What accounts for this gross disconnect between the ground realities and the attitude of the authorities? It is only the disdain of the powerful.

One can compare this with the tactics of the USA regarding Iraq. Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) were its justification for attacking Iraq. Reams and reams of media coverage, and hundreds of independent reports noted that Iraq did not have WMD. The subsequent occupation by the US forces has failed to recover them for over three years. Yet, this has not bothered the US government at all. This is the arrogance of power! This is exactly what has been at work in India where lakhs of people have been displaced in the name of development without any resettlement worth the name.

IV
Wider Questions

Resettlement is only a part of the problem. One of the main issues raised by the NBA was that of the justification of displacement. The ideal of the affected people being equal partners in the planning and decision-making process was far off. But at least the people argued that if they were being displaced, then they had a right to ask that the necessity of this displacement be established. Even a person accused of murder has a right to a hearing; where the evidence against him is presented, he has a right to cross-examine this evidence. Then, are not the oustees entitled to a similar right to hear the evidence as to why their displacement is being called for, and a right to ask questions and receive answers to them? This, the NBA argued, was not only a matter of basic justice for the oustees but also important for the country, as only such a process could bring out what price the country is really paying for the benefits of the project, and who is bearing this cost.

The affected people could bring in very different perspectives to bear on this issue, for they had organic links with the river—its ecology and its economy. To the planner, even a sensitive one, living a life that has little relation to the river, the dam is a technical intervention. A wall is built, the water rises, some lands and houses get flooded and people need to be shifted. He can hardly comprehend that the dam will tear as under a complex web of physical, ecological, economic, cultural and emotional ties that bind a river and the communities, and the living and non-living entities in the basin.

This is why the planners missed out on an entire range of categories of people and occupations that would be affected by the project: Landless labourers, who make a living by mining sand from the riverbed, would lose their livelihood as the river transforms into a reservoir. For one, the reservoir would be too deep now for them; and secondly, the flow of the river that continuously deposited new sand would be stopped. They were absent in the list of affected people, as were the fisherfolk, boat people and others who derive their livelihood from the river.

The planners missed the implications of the destruction of the community that is a village. (Even though people have been demanding resettlement as a community, this has not been accepted.) A small shopkeeper in a village, the potter, the carpenter—all those whose livelihoods depend on the community would be rendered unemployed when the community was dispersed. But there was no provision for them.

The planners missed the links up and down the river. When the Bargi Dam was built on the Narmada near Jabalpur, villages several hundred kilometres downstream had to abandon the profitable summer riverbed crop of melons and watermelons as the water-flow patterns in the river changed. When the Sardar Sarovar is built and the waters diverted, the rich estuarine fisheries of the downstream area in the Narmada are likely to collapse. Ten thousand fishing families depend on this for livelihood. These are not considered as affected by the project.

This is only the economic aspect. The cultural and social links are as important. As dams came up on the Narmada, water flows below changed, often reducing dramatically. Several melas—fairs—held on the riverbanks where a dip in the river was the most important part were threatened, and the flow had to be restored for those days by letting down water from the dams. Worse is the fate of riverbank temples that have been ‘resettled’ far away. The festivals and fairs associated with these have effectively petered off, and a part of the cultural and social life of the people wiped out forever.

These and many others are the issues that the planners had not factored in at all. And it is not that the river is culturally, socially and otherwise important only for the communities on its banks. The river is a part of the heritage of the whole country, even the whole world. In the case of the Narmada, this common heritage is all the more threatened; as there is not one, not ten, but 30 large, 135 medium and over 3000 small dams planned, under construction or built on the river and its tributaries. The impact of all these taken together is immense.

The Narmada is one of the most sacred rivers in the country, and a custom unique to the Narmada is the parikrama—circumnavigation. In this ancient practice, thousands of people walk from the source of the river to its mouth, and back again. The parikrama is to be done only on foot, and one cannot cross the river except at the mouth. One is not allowed to carry any food or supplies. Villages all along the Narmada, therefore, collect grain and food to feed those undertaking the parikrama. The dams—those built and under-construction—have submerged the route of the parikrama. Villages on the banks have been submerged and the reservoir has brought new villages on the new banks. But these villages have no tradition of support for the parikrama. Thus, this old custom is now threatened.

One could go on, but it may suffice to say that the dams threaten to effectively kill the river—physically, culturally and ecologically. The NBA raised these and many related issues including the overestimation of benefits, underestimation of costs, and neglect of the social, environmental and cultural impacts. Several independent committees and investigations have vindicated the NBAs stand. The Morse Committee set up by the World Bank and the five-member group set up by the Indian government, concurred with many of the issues raised by the NBA. In the Supreme Court judgement of October 2000, one of the three judges wrote a separate (minority) judgement. He said that the environmental clearance given to the project was invalid and asked the authorities to seek the clearance again after completing the necessary studies. The World Commission on Dams, in a report in November 2000, documented that the issues raised by the NBA are characteristic of large dams all over the world.

The point is to recognise the costs—in their entirety—that have to be paid for these dams. The point is to assess the benefits, and see if they are worth the costs. The point is to recognise who bears the impact of these costs. Most importantly, it is to make sure that those who are to bear the costs of these dams, are an integral part of the process to decide whether the costs and benefits balance. None of this has been done in the case of the Narmada dams, and hence the NBA has been challenging the very dams, the very displacement.

In the controversy over raising the height of the Sardar Sarovar Dam from 110 to 122 metres, these larger issues have taken a back seat as the urgency of the likely submergence of thousands of families without resettlement overshadows them. But these issues are not likely to go away as they are fundamental and important not only for this one dam, but for the other dams on the Narmada, and for the many dams that are planned to be built in other parts of the country. Indeed, these are issues that involve all of us.

A couple of months ago, I was travelling in Punjab. Accompanying me was a young social activist. We happened to cross the Sutluj over a bridge near Harike—some puddles of standing water, a stream whose movement was barely discernable, and an overgrowth of weeds. When I told him that we were crossing the Sutluj, he could not believe it. ‘Is this the Sutluj darya (river)?’ was all he could say in an incredulous tone. Dams and extraction of water has reduced the mighty Sutluj to this. But it is not alone; the Yamuna has met the same fate; the Narmada is in line. Maybe the day is not far off when all the rivers in the country will be like this.

The Narmada struggle is a reminder that this has happened out of choice. Our voice in support of—or against—the struggle is our vote on how and what we think justice is, on how we want our rivers to be, indeed, on what we want to do with our people, culture, democracy, and the future.