Binsar is a wildlife and forest sanctuary. It was declared a sanctuary decades ago and as a result, today, it is unscarred by development. There are only five houses inside the sanctuary. Each one was built by the British more than a century ago. There is no electricity; water has to be carefully ?harvested? and three of the five homes are inaccessible by road. I am writing this article sitting on the lawns of one of these homes. I hear the chirp of the Himalayan Magpie; the occasional screech of the barking deer and the rustle of the leaves. But, other than that, I am surrounded by silence. My nearest neighbour is a 30-minute walk.
I am not writing this article to extol the beauty of nature or the pleasures of solitude. Although the thought has crossed my mind that leaders faced with the din of our democracy might find it therapeutic to retreat to a place like Binsar. Certainly, the immensity of its natural surroundings?the towering deodar and oak forests and the majesty of Nanda Devi in the foreground?will be humbling. Alexander Solzhenitsyn?s comment ?Man is but an insignificant creature of creation? will resonate and who knows the combined impact of beauty and silence might compel an introspection of priorities. I am writing this article rather to share a concern?a dilemma that I present as a clich?d question ?what is the optimum balance between development and nature??
I have already indicated that Binsar is an outpost of unremitting natural beauty. The problem is that the villagers who have lived in the sanctuary for generations are not happy. They feel that development has passed them by and the government is unconcerned about their plight. They are angry and their anger is now manifesting itself in dangerous and counter-productive behaviour.
I can see the valley below from the perch of my lawn. Every night I have watched forest fires light up the horizon. The flames are doused in one corner; fresh ones flare up elsewhere. I have wondered why this spate of fires. I have asked people for an explanation and alarmingly most have conceded that the bulk of the fires are caused by the villagers themselves. They are ?lighting? up their habitat to express frustration at the fact of their relative poverty.
Why this frustration? I know there is no simple answer but if the villagers? views are accepted, the explanation has to do with the unintended consequences of living inside a sanctuary and the non-delivery of promises.
The villagers maintain that their area has not been ?developed? because the local authorities do not have an incentive to do so. They say that the officials are only interested in pushing projects from which they can secure quick under-the-table ?pay-offs?. The projects for the sanctuary have a long gestation as they require approvals from bodies like the Supreme Court. Thus even though the money is allocated, the file is not progressed. A compounding gripe is the mismatch between promise and delivery. The villagers know they are entitled to subsidised kerosene. But they never get any, because the product is appropriated by the relatively rich for fuel adulteration and personal use. Similarly, they are promised compensation for livestock killed by the wild animals, but payments are always delayed. The larger point being made is that the ?sanctuary? is a millstone around their neck. Development is tangibly evident outside the sanctuary but its benefits are notably absent within it. The fires are being lit to ?force? the government to remove this millstone round their neck.
?Nature abhors a vacuum? but a vacuum has been created in Binsar just as perhaps might be the case in other parts of India, where the local population have found their interests smothered by the drumbeat of ?development? (eg, the tribals of Chhattisgarh). The question is how and by whom this vacuum will be filled?
The answer for Binsar is clear. The government must deliver on its promises. Subsidised kerosene should reach the intended beneficiaries, solar lighting should be introduced in lieu of grid power, roads must be built and compensation must be paid without delay.
But is this a sufficiently robust answer? Will material progress alone mitigate the alienation that people feel towards the authority? Will it restore the balance between the villagers and their surroundings? I do not know but my sense is that a lot more than just economic progress will be required to restore the loss of self-confidence that the current sense of relative deprivation has engendered. The challenge ahead will be to not simply generate employment but to create jobs that revitalise self-respect and dignity. This will not be an easy challenge but it will have to be addressed if the forest officials want the cooperation of villagers to contain the fires.
The author is chairman of Shell Group in India. Views are personal
