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When Kerala first launched its ambitious seaplane project in 2013, the idea sparkled with promise. The vision was picture-perfect: aircraft gliding over calm backwaters, connecting Kochi to Ashtamudi, Punnamada, and Beypore, turning the state into a seamless global tourism hub.
But that dream collapsed almost as soon as it began. As the inaugural floatplane tried to land on Ashtamudi Lake, hundreds of local fishers waded into the water to block it, shouting, “Our waters are not your runway.”
More than a decade later, the government is trying to revive the same project, now wrapped in the language of sustainable tourism and blue economy partnerships. For the inland fishing communities who live and work on these waters, it feels like a replay of the same story, where decisions are made from above and their lives are written out of the development script.
Kerala’s backwaters are not empty water bodies waiting to be commercialised. They are living ecosystems where tens of thousands of people depend on daily inland fishing. The proposed take-off and landing zones for seaplanes in Ashtamudi, Vembanad, Punnamada, and even smaller lakes like Sasthamkotta overlap directly with the richest fishing grounds, breeding zones, and clam beds.
Each time a seaplane takes off or lands, it generates waves that disturb shallow habitats and dislodge fish eggs, larvae, and aquatic plants. The noise and turbulence drive fish away from traditional feeding areas. “When you bring in such heavy traffic on water, it changes the entire rhythm of the ecosystem,” said a senior fisheries scientist from Alappuzha. “It is like introducing a highway in the middle of a village pond.”
For small-scale fishers who already struggle with pollution, sand mining, and declining fish stocks, the seaplane project is a direct threat. Most of them earn between Rs 400 and Rs 700 a day, and even a temporary fall in fish catch can push families deeper into debt and hunger.
The government presents the project as an eco-friendly initiative to boost high-end tourism and connect the coast and backwaters through amphibious aircraft. But the environmental impact assessments, where they exist, are incomplete and often not open to public scrutiny.
The proposed water aerodromes, jetties, and floating terminals will fragment wetland habitats, disturb migratory bird routes, and block the movement of fishing boats and canoes. Even small leaks of aviation fuel or kerosene can poison the fragile aquatic ecosystem that sustains clams, crabs, and prawns.
These are not hypothetical risks. In 2013, during the project’s earlier phase, a test-run seaplane at Ashtamudi caused fish deaths and left an oily sheen on the water’s surface, according to local fisheries officials. The government quietly dropped the plan after strong protests by the Kerala Swathanthra Matsya Thozhilali Federation (KSMTF) and other fisher organisations.
Today, the same communities feel ignored as the project returns without any meaningful consultation. “They call it a public-private partnership, but the public here are fishers, not just tourists,” said a KSMTF leader from Kollam. “No one asked us where we fish or how this will affect us.”
Kerala’s tourism vision documents often speak of inclusive development, but projects like this only widen the gap between those who profit from tourism and those who bear its costs. The proposed seaplane routes are designed for luxury travellers, connecting resorts, heritage homestays and houseboat hubs, not for the local communities living around them.
For inland fishers, the consequences go beyond loss of income. Seaplane operations can restrict access to large parts of the lakes for safety and security reasons, effectively turning public water into private zones. Women who depend on clam collection, fish drying and small-scale trading fear that they will lose their workplaces too.
“There is already competition from aquaculture farms and tourism boats,” said Bindu, a fisherwoman from Kainakary. “Now they want to turn the lake into an airport. Where do we go next?”
The environmental risks are far greater than the government admits. The Vembanad Lake, a Ramsar wetland, is already choking under pollution and invasive weeds such as Salvinia molesta. Ashtamudi Lake, another Ramsar site, supports one of India’s most productive clam fisheries, now threatened by sewage inflows and dredging. Adding seaplane operations could make things much worse.
Seaplane take-off and landing require open stretches of at least 800 metres, which means large parts of these lakes would become restricted areas. Repeated water landings can disturb aquatic species and speed up shoreline erosion, especially in narrow channels.
Kerala’s backwaters are delicate, semi-enclosed ecosystems connected by narrow canals. Introducing aircraft into this fragile system is not just risky, it is ecologically irresponsible.
If the government is serious about sustainable tourism, it must start by recognising fishers as rightful stakeholders, not as obstacles to development. Any plan for the backwaters must be discussed with local panchayats, fish worker unions and environmental experts before being approved.
There are successful alternatives already in place. Community-based ecotourism initiatives in Kumbalangi and Munroe Thuruthu have shown that tourism and livelihoods can coexist. Instead of promoting expensive projects for a select few, Kerala could invest in strengthening the communities that have lived in harmony with these waters for generations.
As one veteran fisherman in Alappuzha said while watching a recent seaplane demonstration from his canoe, “We do not need planes on our lakes. We need fish in our nets.”
Despite widespread opposition, the project’s scope has expanded rapidly.
“Nobody, including the fisheries department, the chief minister, or the tourism minister, has discussed the implementation of the seaplane project so far,” said Charles George, president of the Kerala Fishermen Coordination Committee, speaking to Down to Earth. He said his organisation has submitted petitions to the chief minister, the fisheries minister, and the tourism minister, demanding immediate discussions on the issue.
“The region is preparing for a strong protest against these drastic actions that are destroying Kerala’s fishery production sector,” George said. “The project, which was initially planned for six centres a year ago, has now expanded to 48. It has shifted from operating between dams to targeting fishing areas and lakes. We will organise statewide campaigns and protest programmes against these measures that completely disregard the concerns of fisherfolk.”