Concerns About the Great Nicobar Project Should Have Gotten a Fair Appraisal
Proponents of the controversial Great Nicobar Project will be enthused by an order from the Kolkata bench of the National Green Tribunal (NGT) ruling that all environmental safeguards are in place, that the potential impact of this gargantuan project on resident native populations is duly accounted for, and that the project’s “strategic utility” is reason enough for the government to not be fully transparent with what it shares in the public domain.
But the dominant narrative around the project mirrors the classic development versus environment conflict of a pristine Pandora being ravaged for the greed of far-away mainlanders. The Great Nicobar Island Project envisages a trans-shipment port, an international airport, township development, and a 450 MVA gas and solar-based power plant. It is, by any measure, an undertaking of immense scale with potentially irreversible consequences.
A Cautionary Tale from the Pacific
In the early 20th century, the British Phosphate Commissioners—a joint venture of the UK, Australia, and New Zealand—began large-scale phosphate mining for fertilizer on Nauru and Banaba in the Pacific Ocean. By 1945, the island had been so physically devastated by strip mining that it was deemed uninhabitable. The native Banabans were forcibly relocated to Rabi Island in Fiji, over 2,000 kilometres away.
Today, Banaba is a desolate landscape of jagged limestone “pinnacles,” and the displaced population is still fighting for the rehabilitation of its homeland. These serve as historical precedents for why economic logic alone cannot dictate actions in remote territories. When development goes wrong in isolated communities, the consequences are not just severe—they are often permanent.
Though accorded environment and preliminary forest clearance by the Union Environment Ministry, concerns about the potential loss of biodiversity, tree-felling, and impact on resident tribes prompted the NGT to order a review of the environmental aspects of the project. That review has now concluded, but the questions it was meant to answer remain.
The Environmental Cost
Independent scientists and environmentalist groups have said that the felling of tracts of pristine tropical forest—nearly nine lakh trees across 130 square kilometres—for this project would significantly harm the biodiversity of the region and constitute an irreparable loss. This is not counting the disturbance to leatherback turtle nesting grounds and the assault on the corals.
The numbers are staggering. Nine lakh trees is not a forest; it is an ecosystem. Each tree is home to countless organisms—insects, birds, epiphytes, fungi. The canopy regulates temperature and moisture. The roots hold soil and prevent erosion. The leaf litter feeds the forest floor. When you remove nine lakh trees, you do not just lose timber; you unravel an entire web of life.
The leatherback turtle is an endangered species that has nested on these shores for millennia. Its numbers are already critically low. Disturbing its nesting grounds could push it closer to extinction. The corals are the rainforests of the sea, home to a quarter of all marine species. Dredging and construction will smother them with silt, and they may never recover.
The Tribal Question
There was also the contested matter of whether the community rights of the local Shompen and Nicobarese tribes were fully settled under the requirements of the Forest Rights Act. Recently, members of the Tribal Council said they were being coerced to sign “surrender certificates” that implied their consent to large parts of their land being diverted for the project.
If true, this is not consultation; it is coercion. The Forest Rights Act was enacted precisely to protect tribal communities from this kind of pressure. It requires that consent be free, prior, and informed. “Free” means without coercion. “Prior” means before the decision is made. “Informed” means with full knowledge of what is being consented to. None of these conditions appear to have been met.
The Shompen are a particularly vulnerable tribal group. They are hunter-gatherers who depend on the forest for their subsistence. If their foraging grounds are destroyed, they do not have the option of moving to the city and finding a job. Their way of life, evolved over millennia, would simply cease to exist.
The NGT’s Role
The NGT order essentially rubber-stamps the government’s appraisal process without independently examining the concerns raised. It imposes faith that the government will be a conscientious executor of the project. But faith is not a legal standard. The tribunal’s job was to assess whether environmental safeguards were in place and whether tribal rights had been respected. It did not do that.
Instead, it accepted the government’s claims at face value. It did not question the assertion that no coral reefs exist at the precise project footprint, even though corals are known to exist in the area. It did not investigate the allegations of coerced consent. It did not weigh the irreplaceable loss of biodiversity against the project’s purported benefits.
This is not what the NGT was created for. It was meant to be a forum where environmental concerns could be raised and adjudicated by experts. By deferring entirely to the government, it has abdicated that responsibility.
The Strategic Argument
Proponents argue that the project’s “strategic utility” justifies accelerated approval and limited transparency. Great Nicobar is India’s southernmost island, located near critical sea lanes in the Indian Ocean. A port, airport, and naval presence would enhance India’s ability to project power and respond to contingencies.
These are not trivial considerations. National security is a legitimate concern, and infrastructure development is often necessary to support it. But strategic necessity does not exempt a project from environmental scrutiny. It does not mean that every cost is acceptable. It means that the trade-offs must be carefully weighed and that those who bear the costs must be genuinely considered.
The lack of transparency is particularly troubling. If the project is truly in the national interest, why cannot the public see the full environmental impact assessment? Why cannot the tribal communities know exactly what they are being asked to consent to? Secrecy breeds suspicion, and suspicion undermines the very legitimacy that strategic projects require.
Conclusion: A Failure of Process
Whether the Great Nicobar Project is a “net good” can only be judged by future generations. But the lack of a process that offers a fair appraisal of independent concerns bodes ill for the present.
The NGT had an opportunity to demonstrate that even strategically important projects must meet rigorous environmental and social standards. It chose instead to defer to the government and rubber-stamp its approvals. The questions raised by scientists, environmentalists, and tribal communities remain unanswered. The concerns about biodiversity loss, coral destruction, and coerced consent remain unresolved.
The Banaba precedent should haunt us. What happened there was not an accident; it was the predictable result of valuing economic extraction over human and ecological wellbeing. If we are not careful, Great Nicobar could become another Banaba—a desolate landscape and a displaced people, with nothing to show for it but a cautionary tale that future generations will tell about us.
Q&A: Unpacking the Great Nicobar Controversy
Q1: What does the Great Nicobar Island Project entail?
The project envisages a trans-shipment port, an international airport, township development, and a 450 MVA gas and solar-based power plant. It would require felling nearly nine lakh trees across 130 square kilometres of pristine tropical forest, disturbing leatherback turtle nesting grounds, and impacting coral reefs. The project is justified on strategic grounds due to Great Nicobar’s location near critical sea lanes in the Indian Ocean.
Q2: What is the historical precedent of Banaba, and why is it relevant?
In the early 20th century, British Phosphate Commissioners began large-scale phosphate mining on Banaba Island in the Pacific. By 1945, the island was so devastated by strip mining that it was deemed uninhabitable, and the native Banabans were forcibly relocated to Fiji, over 2,000 kilometres away. Today, Banaba is a desolate landscape, and the displaced population still fights for rehabilitation. This serves as a warning about irreversible consequences when economic logic alone dictates actions in remote territories.
Q3: What are the main environmental concerns raised by scientists?
Independent scientists warn that felling nine lakh trees across 130 square kilometres will significantly harm biodiversity and constitute irreparable loss. The project would also disturb leatherback turtle nesting grounds—an endangered species—and damage coral reefs through dredging and siltation. Corals are the “rainforests of the sea,” home to a quarter of all marine species. The cumulative impact of deforestation, habitat destruction, and marine disturbance could be catastrophic and irreversible.
Q4: What allegations have been made regarding tribal consent?
Members of the Tribal Council have alleged they were being coerced to sign “surrender certificates” implying consent to large parts of their land being diverted for the project. The Shompen are a particularly vulnerable tribal group who depend on the forest for subsistence. The Forest Rights Act requires free, prior, and informed consent—meaning no coercion, decision made before project approval, and full knowledge of implications. None of these conditions appear to have been met.
Q5: How did the National Green Tribunal handle the case, and why is this problematic?
The NGT order essentially rubber-stamped the government’s appraisal process without independently examining the concerns raised. It accepted government claims at face value, did not question assertions about coral reefs, did not investigate allegations of coerced consent, and did not weigh irreplaceable biodiversity loss against purported benefits. By deferring entirely to the government, the NGT abdicated its responsibility to provide a fair, independent appraisal of environmental and social impacts.
