That Green Stretch, Why the Great Nicobar Project’s Environmental Approval Raises Fundamental Questions
In Nicobar or in the Aravalis, the narrow approach to measuring environmental impacts has become a serious and recurring problem. The National Green Tribunal’s dismissal of concerns over the environmental cost of the Great Nicobar project is almost certain to be challenged in the Supreme Court. At stake is not just a single infrastructure project, but a fundamental question about how India balances development imperatives with the protection of its unique ecological heritage.
The scale of the project—a port, power plant, airport, and township—has deeply alarmed conservationists for years. Great Nicobar’s biological wealth and evolutionary significance rival that of the Galapagos Islands, often described as a living museum of evolution. It is, to say the least, not an ordinary landscape.
The Technocratic Framing
The NGT upheld that no coral reefs were found at the precise project footprint and that nearby reefs would be “relocated” for protection. Of the 20,668 coral colonies identified, 16,150 are to be translocated, while the “threat” to the remaining 4,518 will be studied. The relocation plan, first documented in 2019, is projected to take 30 years, with the initial decade alone costing ₹55 crore.
This technocratic framing echoes the incremental weakening of safeguards seen in the Aravalis over decades. Institutions tasked with environmental protection often reduce complex ecological realities to narrow definitional thresholds—hills above 100 metres in the Aravalis, “no coral reef, no nesting” in Galathea Bay. Both claims about Galathea Bay are contested. But even if accepted, corals enjoy the same legal protection as tigers and elephants. That protection must mean preservation in situ, not displacement.
The Living Museum of Evolution
Great Nicobar is not just another piece of real estate. Its evolutionary significance is globally recognised. The island’s isolation has allowed species to evolve in unique ways, creating ecosystems found nowhere else on Earth. The Nicobar megapode, the crab-eating macaque, the giant robber crab—these are not just species; they are evolutionary marvels that have adapted to this specific environment over millennia.
The rainforests of Great Nicobar are not just trees; they are intricate webs of life where every organism plays a role. The leaf litter feeds the insects, which feed the birds, which disperse seeds. The canopy provides habitat for orchids and epiphytes that exist nowhere else. The roots hold the soil together, preventing erosion and maintaining water quality. This is not a landscape that can be reassembled like Lego.
The Coral Question
Corals are the architects of the ocean. They build structures that provide habitat for a quarter of all marine species. They protect coastlines from storms. They support fisheries that feed millions. And they are among the most vulnerable organisms on Earth to climate change.
The claim that no coral reefs exist at the precise project footprint is a classic example of definitional narrowness. Even if true, it ignores the fact that ecosystems are connected. Silt from dredging does not respect project boundaries. It spreads with currents, smothering reefs kilometres away. The proposed translocation of 16,150 coral colonies sounds impressive until one considers that translocation has a spotty track record. Corals are delicate; moving them often kills them. And even if they survive, they are being moved to an environment that may not support them.
The 30-year timeline for relocation is itself a confession. If it takes three decades to “protect” the corals, what happens to them in the meantime? The project will proceed, dredging will happen, and the corals will be exposed to stresses they may not survive. By the time the relocation is complete, there may be nothing left to relocate.
The Precedent Problem
This is not an isolated case. The Aravalis, one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world, have been subjected to the same kind of incremental erosion of environmental safeguards. Hills above 100 metres were deemed worthy of protection; everything else was fair game. The result has been rampant mining, deforestation, and destruction of ecosystems that took millions of years to form.
The same logic is now being applied to Great Nicobar. If there is no coral reef at the exact point where the dredging happens, it’s acceptable. If there is no nesting site at the precise location of the airport, it’s fine. This atomistic approach misses the point entirely. Ecosystems are not collections of discrete features; they are interconnected wholes. You cannot protect a forest by saving individual trees while clearing everything around them.
The Legal Framework
Corals enjoy the same legal protection as tigers and elephants under Indian law. That protection is not conditional on location. It is not diminished by proximity to a development project. It means what it says: these organisms are to be protected.
Protection in situ means protection where they are. It does not mean moving them to a “safer” location. It does not mean studying the threat while the threat materialises. It means ensuring that the activities that would harm them do not occur. If the law is to have any meaning, it must be enforced.
The Strategic Imperative
Proponents of the project argue that Great Nicobar’s strategic location justifies the environmental costs. Located near critical sea lanes, the island is indeed important for India’s maritime presence. A naval base, an airport, and a port would enhance India’s ability to project power in the Indian Ocean.
These are not trivial considerations. National security is a legitimate concern, and infrastructure development is often necessary to support it. But strategic imperatives do not exempt projects from environmental scrutiny. They do not mean that every cost is acceptable. They mean that the trade-offs must be carefully weighed and that those who bear the costs—the species that will go extinct, the ecosystems that will be destroyed—must be given genuine consideration.
The Alternatives
Are there alternatives? Could the strategic objectives be achieved with a smaller footprint? Could the port be located elsewhere? Could the airport be built in a less ecologically sensitive area? These questions have not been adequately addressed. The project has been presented as a package, and the environmental review has focused on mitigating impacts rather than avoiding them.
The mitigation hierarchy—avoid, minimise, restore, offset—is well established in environmental management. The first and most important step is avoidance. If impacts cannot be avoided, they should be minimised. Only then should restoration and offsets be considered. In the Great Nicobar case, avoidance seems to have been skipped entirely. The focus is on minimisation and offsets, but the fundamental question of whether the project should be built at all has not been seriously asked.
Conclusion: A Test of Values
The Great Nicobar project is a test of India’s values. It asks whether the country can balance development with environmental protection, whether strategic imperatives can coexist with ecological preservation, whether the law means what it says.
The NGT’s dismissal of concerns suggests that the balance has tilted too far. The technocratic framing that reduces complex ecosystems to narrow definitional thresholds is not environmental protection; it is environmental evasion. The claim that corals can be relocated, that forests can be replanted, that ecosystems can be reassembled, is hubris.
Great Nicobar’s biological wealth and evolutionary significance are not ordinary. They deserve better than a 30-year relocation plan and a ₹55 crore budget. They deserve to be protected where they are, for what they are. If India cannot protect the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, what can it protect?
Q&A: Unpacking the Great Nicobar Environmental Controversy
Q1: Why is Great Nicobar described as having evolutionary significance rivaling the Galapagos Islands?
Great Nicobar’s isolation has allowed species to evolve in unique ways, creating ecosystems found nowhere else on Earth. The island is home to endemic species like the Nicobar megapode, crab-eating macaque, and giant robber crab that have adapted to this specific environment over millennia. Its rainforests represent intricate webs of life where every organism plays a role—a living museum of evolution that cannot be reassembled once destroyed.
Q2: What is the coral relocation plan, and why is it problematic?
Of 20,668 coral colonies identified, 16,150 are to be translocated while the threat to remaining 4,518 will be studied. The plan, documented in 2019, is projected to take 30 years with the first decade costing ₹55 crore. The problem is that translocation has a spotty track record—corals are delicate and moving them often kills them. The 30-year timeline means corals will be exposed to dredging-related stresses long before relocation is complete. Corals enjoy the same legal protection as tigers and elephants, which means preservation in situ, not displacement.
Q3: What is the “technocratic framing” criticised in the article?
Institutions tasked with environmental protection often reduce complex ecological realities to narrow definitional thresholds—hills above 100 metres in the Aravalis, “no coral reef at precise project footprint” in Galathea Bay. This atomistic approach misses that ecosystems are interconnected wholes. Even if individual claims are accepted, the cumulative impacts of development—silt from dredging, forest clearing, habitat fragmentation—affect far more than the precise footprint. Protection cannot be reduced to checking boxes on a checklist.
Q4: What legal protection do corals have under Indian law?
Corals enjoy the same legal protection as tigers and elephants. This protection is not conditional on location or diminished by proximity to development projects. It means these organisms are to be protected where they are, in situ. The law does not contemplate moving them to “safer” locations or studying threats while the threats materialise. If the law is to have any meaning, it must be enforced to prevent activities that would harm protected species.
Q5: How should strategic imperatives be weighed against environmental costs?
National security and infrastructure development are legitimate concerns. But strategic imperatives do not exempt projects from environmental scrutiny or mean every cost is acceptable. The mitigation hierarchy—avoid, minimise, restore, offset—requires first asking whether impacts can be avoided entirely. In the Great Nicobar case, avoidance seems to have been skipped in favour of minimisation and offsets. The fundamental question of whether the project should be built at all has not been seriously asked. A proper weighing would consider alternatives, smaller footprints, and less ecologically sensitive locations.
