The crisis of climate change is no longer a figment of imagination held by a few scientists or environmental activists. It is a very real and escalating emergency, fast approaching the point of no return — driven by the irresponsible actions of industrialists and governments across the globe.
Governments often absolve themselves of responsibility by passing environmental laws and establishing bodies like the National Green Tribunal and ministries of environment. But these laws remain toothless when enforcement is lax and easily influenced by powerful capital interests. They also shift accountability by placing the burden of Corporate Social Responsibility on large corporations, avoiding any direct confrontation with the climate crisis.
One pressing example is the construction of four-lane highways across the fragile Himalayan region, done in the name of promoting tourism and developing the hill states and their people.
'Development' is such a sensitive and politicised term today that questioning it — let alone criticising its unintended consequences — is often met with ridicule or bullying, especially on social media.
This blind pursuit of development recalls the debate between Mahatma Gandhi and India’s early modernisers. When Gandhi advocated for his Hind Swaraj vision—developing self-sufficient villages over industrial cities—he was mocked by both Nehru and Ambedkar.
In a letter to Nehru dated October 5, 1945, Gandhi wrote:
“I believe that if India is to attain true freedom, and through India the world as well, then sooner or later we will have to live in villages—in huts, not in palaces… That truth and nonviolence we can glimpse only in the simplicity of villages… I am not scared that the world seems to be moving backward. The moth whirls the wildest as it approaches its doom and is burnt away while whirling.”
Nehru disagreed sharply:
“I do not understand why a village should necessarily embody truth and nonviolence. A village, normally speaking, is backward intellectually and culturally and no progress can be made from a backward environment. Narrow-minded people are much more likely to be untruthful and violent.”
Yet Gandhi perhaps understood Indian society better than most — its people, its politics, and the looming danger of unregulated modernisation in a newly free India. He sensed that political power could become a tool not for nation-building, but for personal wealth accumulation. The temptation of easy money is hard to resist — whether in capitalist or socialist states.
I firmly believe corruption is one institution India has effectively institutionalised over the decades. It runs so deep that from ministers to clerks, few remain untouched.
As American political scientist Henry Hart observed in 1991, “Corruption of office-holding has become an industry in many sectors of government in India.”
Transparency International’s 2023 Corruption Perceptions Index ranks India 93rd out of 180 countries. A decade ago, in 2014, India was ranked 85th. Back then, the current Prime Minister promised to bring back black money stashed in Swiss banks and deposit Rs 15 lakh in every Indian’s account — a promise that has faded with time.
The nexus of politics and business is especially dangerous. Business thrives under political patronage and together they profit while the "sun of development" shines. Regulations are the first casualty.
The rapid expansion of four-lane roads in north-western Himalayas has already demonstrated severe consequences — clear, concrete and catastrophic.
The 2013 Kedarnath tragedy, followed by the devastation in Shimla and Kullu in 2014, and the recent 2025 disaster in Ramban (Kashmir), are chilling examples. These are not natural calamities — they are manmade disasters born of the collusion between politicians, administrators and businessmen.
Yet, governments refuse to learn. The reason is simple: the short-term goal of maximising political and financial gain takes precedence over long-term sustainability. Inquiry commissions are quickly set up after each disaster, but no real accountability follows. Everyone involved is in the same boat —rowing toward personal gain.
A recent trip along the Kalka-Shimla road offers a disturbing view: roadside hillocks patched with steel meshes and nets to prevent rockfall. These are attempts by the National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) to stabilise mountains destabilised by aggressive blasting and drilling.
Officials claim the injected stabilising materials will hold for 10–12 years. But I seriously doubt such techniques can protect the fragile Himalayas, especially the sedimentary rock formations in this region.
Any layperson can spot the violations. One such stretch, spanning over 900 metres, has seen rock cuttings rise 50–60 feet high. Park a TATA truck nearby, and the scale becomes clear. Two workers can be seen boring stabilisation pipes into the slopes. An old house, perched precariously at the edge, now faces imminent risk from landslides or even a minor tremor. One can only wish the residents good luck.
The recklessness doesn't end there. Just beside this house, two new four-story buildings have come up — wedged between the four-lane highway and the heritage railway track of 1903 — violating no-construction zones. Instead of correcting past mistakes, authorities are now building a road to develop the hilltop further, reportedly for a powerful individual. A pine tree clings to the very edge of the carved mountain — a silent witness to the destruction.
The JCB machine, a marvel of British engineering, has become a builder’s dream and a mountain’s nightmare. It has made previously inaccessible slopes vulnerable to unchecked development. Local landowners join hands with developers to build luxury cottages, advertised glamorously online to urban buyers seeking a second home in the “Queen of Hills.” In this age of climate change and flash floods, these buyers will need more than good luck to stay safe.
This obsession with 'modern development' is so pervasive that panchayats are prioritising road construction over schools or health centers. When government funds fall short, communities pool resources, hire JCBs, and build temporary roads — later pressuring the government to upgrade them to permanent ones. Local leaders oblige in exchange for votes. As a result, one sees dozens of JCBs at work along the Kalka-Shimla route throughout the year.
Development itself is not the enemy — but it must be pursued with restraint, responsibility, and a deep respect for the fragility of the Himalayas.
Views expressed are author's own and don't necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth