A Blinkered View

The courts are unmoved by the desecration of tribals’ sacred sites

ASHISH KOTHARI
Founding member, Kalpavriksh

ONE MIGHT BE a bridge long held to be a part of Hindu beliefs. Another, a forest that has for centuries been part of the active spiritual beliefs of an ancient tribe. Yet, when called upon to pass judgement on “development” projects that threaten both, the judges of the Supreme Court signalled that while they considered the first to be important, the latter was expendable.

The first is the Rama Sethu or Adams’ Bridge in the Palk Strait, considered by Hindus to be the famed bridge on which Ram made his crossing from India to Lanka. The Sethusamudram project, involving the opening up of a shipping route through the Strait, is said to threaten this “bridge”. Environmentalists and fisher folk have long opposed the project, saying it would damage marine environment and traditional livelihoods, but the court took notice only when individuals like Subramaniam Swamy filed a petition, arguing that it would hurt the sentiments of millions of Hindus. And so, on 8th May 2008, the court asked the Central Government to consider alternatives.

The second is Niyamgiri, in Kalahandi district, Orissa. This tract of dense forests and grasslands has a number of streams and provide sustenance to millions of people. It is also home to the Dongriya Kondh (classified a “primitive tribe”) who consider Niyamgiri a sacred hill, crucial to their culture and their well-being. For them, Niyamgiri is equivalent to a church, temple, or mosque. Except that it is a fully functioning ecosystem.

It is here that Vedanta Alumina Ltd (VAL), a UK based multinational with an Indian subsidiary, Sterlite Industries of India Ltd (SIIL), proposes to mine bauxite. Environmentalists and locals went to the Supreme Court to stop this, for it would damage the unique biodiversity of the area, as well as the tribes’ culture and livelihood. But the argument did not cut any ice. In November 2007, the court ordered that while VAL could not be given permission, it would consider allowing SIIL to carry out tmining with certain conditions. This completely illogical order ignored the fact that SIIL is a subsidiary of VAL, as well as a Norwegian Council of Ethics investigation that had found both companies to have repeatedly violated environment and human rights. It even ignored the report of the Centrally Empowered Committee (CEC) — set up by the court itself to advice it on forest-related legal matters — that had clearly pointed to the damage mining would cause. The CEC report also said that VAL had already violated Indian laws by carrying out operations without the necessary legal clearances.

Arguments on behalf of the Dongria Kondhs, saying that mining would destroy their livelihoods and culture and deface their sacred sites, were treated with disdain. The courts appear to have a blinkered view of the sacred. A physical land formation in the sea is given so much importance that the judges question the construction of what the government considers a project of national importance. A sacred forest, threatened by the greed of a private company, however, has no such relevance. Clearly, a dominant religion backed by powerful groups and individuals is able to move the highest court of the land, but an ancient tribal faith gets no such consideration.

If indeed the court is guilty of such biases, it is not alone. Governments have had the same discriminatory attitude. Sacred sites of adivasis are of little consequence while deciding on the site of an industry or “developmental” facility. The process of relocation and rehabilitation never takes into account the trauma of being plucked out of one’s cultural and spiritual surrounds. It is a classic clash between two different worldviews: one which requires tangible physical manifestations and the other content with intangible, spiritual ones. Neither should be considered superior, but dominant society does discriminate. Thus, the mayhem caused (justifiably) when a temple or mosque or church is desecrated, and an indifferent silence when sacred landscapes are submerged under dams or blasted for mining.

I am firmly of the opinion that the Sethusamudram project should be halted for the environmental, economic and cultural consequences are simply unacceptable. I therefore have no problem with the court’s order, except that the same order could well have come three years earlier — in 2005, on a petition filed by the Coastal Action Network on environmental grounds.

But whether the basis is environmental or cultural, both courts and society need to use the same yardsticks. For Dongriya Kondhs, Niyamgiri is as important as the Rama Sethu is for Hindus. It deserves to get the same national cultural heritage tag that is sought for the latter. Equally, if not more important, both are ecologically fragile areas. Finally, in both cases, traditional livelihoods could be severely impacted. Discriminating against Niyamgiri would be a mockery of the special constitutional status that adivasis are supposed to enjoy, and of the equality to which all Indian citizens have a right. •