Environment Management in India

ENVIRONMENT MANAGEMENT IN INDIA  This article only intends to provide a perspective on environmental management in India, and therefore refrains from using specific references and examples. The purpose is to provoke a whole new set of inquisition that transcends boundaries constraining our present sphere of thinking. Proper environmental solutions in India will necessarily be “home-grown” for which appropriate mind-space is to be created that will test and nurture new ideas. Somnath Bandyopadhyay  The author is a Ph.D in Environmental Sciences from the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, where he specialised in wetland ecology. He has, thereafter, worked for over eight years with the Gujarat Ecology Commission, Govt. of Gujarat, as a Senior Ecologist and Nodal Officer. He has managed several policy research programmes, including the development of a State Environmental Action Programme, supported by the World Bank. He has an advanced training in Environmental Economics and Policy Analysis from the Harvard Institute of International Development, Harvard University. Presently, he is Senior Programme Officer at the Aga Khan Foundation in India where he manages outreach and innovation in rural development programmes. The views expressed in this article are entirely personal and should not be attributed to any institution that the author may be associated with. The notion that the environment could be, or should be, managed, is relatively recent in India. Like any other old civilization, Indians traditionally revered nature even while they gradually learnt to manipulate it to an extent that met its own basic needs of food and shelter. However, the degree of manipulation seldom achieved extraction of resources beyond subsistence levels, either from the farm-lands or from the forests, thanks to their ecological characters, whose variability remain largely unpredictable even today. Tropical location, Himalayan Mountains to the north and open seas to the south create unique conditions of air circulation over the sub-continent that lead to a seasonal distribution of rainfall, referred to as the “monsoons”. The variability of the rainfall pattern was not only the major external determinant during the early development of human habitations in the sub-continent, but continues to influence the economic growth of modern India significantly. The long-term variation of rainfall over space and time led to the development of distinct vegetation patterns over the sub-continent, dominated by various forest types. The original inhabitants of these forests – often referred to as vanvasis or adivasis – were predominantly hunter-gatherers, who extracted a wide variety of plant and animal resources offered by the forests themselves. Fire, along with other crude implements, was used as a key management technique to extract resources that were relatively abundant, protect resources from other wild competitors and fulfil the consumption needs of a human population which had a very limited life-span and even limited demands. Gradual increase in life-span, improved knowledge and consequent diversification of demands for natural resources brought with it a variety of fundamental changes. Basic social groups and rudimentary institutional forms emerged in order to share the extraction and use of these resources. Elementary norms were evolved for the protection of certain species, particularly during their breeding seasons or when their numbers needed to recover and justify a certain degree of hunting effort. Norms were gradually established through forms – such as cultural and religious rituals – that defined personal food habits as well as community outlook on local resources such as village tanks and groves. Although constrained by a lack of any written scripts, there is increasing evidence to indicate that individual and community rights had evolved among indigenous communities even on the basis of oral traditions. Even though written by “outsiders”, references to “vanvas” in the early texts and folklores provide glimpses of the lives of the original inhabitants of the sub-continent. Resource extraction under such conditions has been as variable as the environmental conditions that determined its availability. This had, in turn, left the dynamics of the human population at the mercy of sudden food shortages (famines), sudden emergence of high population of competing species (like locusts) and sudden development of conditions that sustained pathogens (like cholera and plague). In short, native Indians seemed to have survived more as an integral part of the ecological systems, learning to accept (and, often, revere) the eccentricity of Nature’s bounties rather than dominate these systems by actively controlling their production processes in his own favour. Conflicts and the phenomenon of hereditary occupations The quest for an active control of the production processes began to succeed first in the agricultural settlements of the Indo-Gangetic plains. Any agricultural system, like the Prairies and Steppes in the temperate regions of the world, is more uniformly productive, that allows for the rapid fulfilment of basic needs, creates surpluses and provides opportunities to diversify the economic base. The Indo-Gangetic river system, however, distinguished itself for being far less uniform and predictable in its flooding patterns, responding as it were to the unique variability in the monsoon rains of the sub-continent. Shifts in river courses are known to have eliminated an entire civilization along the Indus valley, wiping in its course amazingly advanced systems of trade, industry and urban settlements. Although less dramatic, similar shifts in the courses of rivers in the Indo-Gangetic plains have often led to large-scale disputes over the possession of fertile lands – the key productive asset in an economy dominated by agriculture – resulting in a deeply fractured and caste-ridden social system. Mythology and ancient history of the sub-continent provide enough evidence of strife in the chequered polity of the Indo-Gangetic plains. However, its relations with control over economic resources are not as easily apparent. Communities had to use force to maintain control over transient productive tracts in the floodplains. Communities also had to use elaborate trading skills and systems to stabilise the consequences of extremely variable farm productions. And, above all, success of communities was linked to institutions of knowledge for expansion and improved control of the productive systems. This complex social organization – or the varnas – that developed in ancient India to manage the natural production systems has been studied from an ecological perspective by a few sociologists only. The quest for expansion of the agricultural systems introduced a new dimension to the range of conflicts over control and management of natural systems. Fire – a management tool of the forest-dwellers – was used in a more devastating form to clear the forests on a more permanent basis. While the traditional resource base of the forest-dwellers was being rapidly eroded, the expansion of agriculture was not as rapid thanks to the limiting nature of water, whose availability, unlike land, could not be enhanced so easily. Vast tracts of forest land, therefore, got converted into intermediate grassland ecosystems, where pastorals gained control. The necessity of specialized occupational training for the management of complex agrarian systems, coupled with a predominantly oral tradition and an elitist formal system of education, ensured greater dependence on family as the dominant social institution. The complex mosaic of castes and sub-castes are nothing but extended patrilineage families. While such hereditary occupational pattern ensured the perpetuation and enrichment of traditional knowledge and skills, it was also believed to provide incentives for sustainable management of resources by creating monopolies over a partitioned resource-base. Unfortunately, hereditary occupation also provided incentives to perpetuate conflicts by promoting a culture that accepts fate and resists any active quest for change of livelihood. Forest-based occupations thus came in direct conflict with agriculture-based occupations. The politics involved in major irrigation schemes, particularly in the manner in which forest lands are submerged, original inhabitants are rehabilitated and benefits to farmers in the command area are distributed seem to suggest that little have changed in the nature of these basic conflicts even today. Hereditary occupations also served to limit the horizons of human endeavours to predefined professions, reducing any active pursuit for excellence. A limit to individual growth inevitably leads towards growth by association. Economic growth is then measured in terms of land area controlled by the cultivator or the number of cattle-heads controlled by the pastoral. It must be noted that the forest-dwellers had no such cultural compulsions, but were increasingly being marginalised in the overall scheme of social structures dominated by the landed gentry. In sum, the ancient property rights regimes followed three distinct patterns – the caste Hindus who owned and managed riparian agricultural lands, the forest-dwellers whose rights were increasingly ignored in the political context dominated by the caste Hindus and the pastorals who owned cattle-heads that grazed in community-owned lands vacated by the forest-dwellers but not occupied by the caste Hindus. Colonial influence and the emergence of scarcity Throughout most of the medieval periods, a variety of kingdoms organised a system of managing resources that maximised the control of wealth by the crown. Aggression and annexation of fertile lands and cattle was a popular method. Land, the most important natural resource, was primarily in the public sector, with the State holding all virgin land, forests and water resources. Arable land, however, was both in the public and the private sectors. While public lands were either leased or doled, income from private lands were taxed. Apart from arable land, sometimes even other immovable property like fields, embankments, water tanks and reservoirs were privately owned and available for transfer through sale. Mining and fishing were also in both sectors. Animals like cows, sheep and goat were in both sectors and individual rights over captured animals (deer, birds, wild animals) were protected. Much of the public resources were used to maintain armies, administration and ornaments of the monarchy. During times of relative peace and prosperity, public resources would also be spent on art, architecture and other cultural domains. Wealth was, thus, largely ploughed back to the local economy in a variety of manners, depending on the priorities of the crown. This may not have been a particularly efficient economic system but also did not lead to any serious erosion of wealth or natural resources. Except for a few waves of marauders, primarily from Central Asia, much of the national wealth remained within the sub-continent till the advent of the Europeans. The diverse and abundant natural resources in India were coveted by the western European nations during their early stages of industrialisation. Sea routes were discovered and naval strengths were enhanced to secure and expand trade relations. Military prowess was a key determinant of the terms of trade during the early periods of colonisation. The eventual dominance of the British East India Company tilted the balance decidedly. Unequal trade relations, which promoted the flight of capital and rapid erosion of wealth in India, were institutionalised through colonial governance. In fact, Britain more than made up for its own limited natural resources by organising an economic system that drew on its colonies for raw materials like plants, animals and minerals for feeding its industrial hubs. What began with trade in spices and condiments swiftly progressed towards large-scale plantations of cash-crops like cotton, indigo, tea etc. on forcibly acquired farmlands and virgin forest lands, freely using the natural resources and exploiting the cheap labour. These provided a competitive edge to the British manufacturing units, whose products began to find a global market, including India. The colonial superiority was not just evident in military terms, but manifest itself in manufacturing and trade as well, particularly through the use of technology and professional management of businesses. The rapid development of scientific knowledge and imaginative use of technology helped in the diversification and modernisation of the British manufacturing sector. However, it was only in their interest that science and technology was used in the colonies to enhance productivity of natural resources, particularly of those that fed the British manufacturing units, rather than invest in manufacturing per se. Timber, for example, was coveted by the British economy – in particular the Royal Navy – for which large-scale felling (as opposed to earlier destruction by fire) was introduced in the country for the first time. Use of modern felling technology, a planned approach to timber extraction and the introduction of new species were clearly based on much superior knowledge of manipulation and, coupled with the fact that it was being promoted by the ruling class, became legitimate “scientific” management of forests. Felling became acceptable and the debate shifted to the “manner” of felling and ancillary activities like raising nurseries and planting certain species. The colonial influence on Indian forests had far reaching consequences. Most of the Princely States crudely emulated the processes of felling in order to generate revenue for their States, particularly when threatened with dispossession. Independent India developed a cadre to systematically extract the forest resources. Emulating the British in adopting “scientific” management systems, contrasting its controlled extraction with the perverse clear-felling followed by several Princely States and the genuine need to “develop” a modern Nation (even if accompanied by some “sacrifices”) entrenched the notional legitimacy of the State to control and extract forest resources till date. In the process, vast tracts of forests were also converted into grasslands (where re-afforestation did not succeed), agriculture lands (where encroachments happened as well) or plantations (where afforestation succeeded partially). The systematic depletion of forest area and decimation of forest resources have led the vast indigenous populations dependent on these resources to misery. Such dispossession, however, was hardly ever recognized, except when large-scale submergence took place in reservoir regions (when the “sacrifice for the larger good” argument was put forward). Investing in food security During Independence, India found herself burdened with a rapidly growing population (with increasing life expectancy) but little means for enhancing food production. Food security of millions in India was not a priority for the colonial government and hence little investments were made in irrigation infrastructure and agriculture development prior to Independence. Chronic food shortages and recurrent famines were, thus, the major considerations of post-Independence India. A slew of policies and investment programmes were initiated by the State to boost agriculture production that would have far reaching implications on land-use patterns and water management. Land was viewed as a food-producing entity, albeit with many location-specific constraints, chiefly water regimes, that needed to be understood and overcome. Availability of water at definite periods to irrigate the crops was identified as the single most important factor to boost agriculture. For this purpose, the largely unpredictable and seasonal flooding patterns of the Indian rivers had to be “tamed” to provide a more assured supply of water. Western models of engineering solutions were adopted once again for constructing dams, barrages and weirs to control the natural flow of water, channels and embankments to contain the natural spread of water and a network of canal systems to direct the waters into croplands rather than the seas. The early successes of large dams provoked our first Prime Minister to proclaim these as the “temples of modern India”, enabling a rapid expansion of the State Departments for irrigation primarily by employing civil engineers. Development of water resources meant extraction and supply rather than management of an important resource. To make matters worse, inter-State water sharing treaties usually left a clause for review after 25 years, on the basis of demand. Expansion of canal networks served to indicate a growing demand and position the States for a higher stake in river waters while at the same time provide a rationale for continued State support for a burgeoning cadre of technocrats. Water management, thus, became a “technical” issue that could “solve” flood problems, irrigate drought-prone areas and “develop” groundwater resources. The negative impact of all these efforts towards “rapid development of water resources” is only now being recognised. Rivers have dried up while adjacent croplands are waterlogged. Promises, rather than water, have reached the tail-enders in irrigation command areas across the country. Free, or heavily subsidized, power is provided to farmers in lieu of water, providing strong incentives to tap the groundwater resources. Depletion of groundwater has reached alarming levels in several areas, often accompanied by deteriorating quality. Sinking bore-wells to tap the groundwater is a major gamble for farmers in semi-arid, drought-prone regions of the country, often resulting in piling debt burdens and an increasingly alarming rate of suicides. Populist responses push towards further power subsidies, rather than attempting to pull out intensive farming from non-irrigated lands. Food shortages were replaced now with water shortages and while famines have become history, recurrent droughts have come to haunt modern India. Investing in food security – version II The “green revolution” was another basket of technology – improved varieties of seeds, chemical fertilizers and pesticides – that was introduced in order to boost agriculture. Naturally, the benefits chiefly went to those pockets that had the basic irrigation infrastructure already in place, usually in floodplains of large perennial rivers. Even with a limited geographic spread, national food production was enhanced significantly, in the process shedding its (often humiliating) dependence on external aid for food. A more confident nation was now willing to play a decisive role in procurement and distribution of these food-grains as well, justified by its earlier investments in irrigation infrastructure, input subsidies and the felt need for equitable distribution. The unintended consequences of these actions were many but a couple of these merit attention in this context. The centralised monopoly policies in procurement and distribution of food-grains severely restricted wealth creation of farmers, particularly in the more entrepreneurial grain baskets of Punjab and Western UP. The growing public discontent in these areas is being addressed politically by re-organising governance units, countering violent secessionist movements and dealing with growing emigration and human trafficking. The second consequence, however, was more pervasive. An overzealous approach to the notions of self-sufficiency, coupled with a desire to control prices, led to policies that strongly discouraged any private exchange – the traditional lifeline of farmers in India – forcing the rural masses to depend fully on a public distribution system (PDS) for supplying a fixed ration of “essential goods”, particularly food-grains. The primary means of production (natural resources such as land, water, vegetation and financial resources such as credit) were also placed under State controls, virtually eliminating any possibility of local enterprise or economic development. The growing disconnects between local demands and a centralised supply system was hardly acknowledged even as the issue of inefficiency and corruption in PDS gained centre-stage. The poor, meanwhile, had the onerous task of building a rural economy literally from scratch. Slopes were cultivated, wetlands were reclaimed, rocky wastelands were scratched, deserts, saline lands and even dry river-beds were brought under the plough, albeit mostly illegally. Shifting dependence towards subsistence-level agriculture, growing political disenchantment of the rural masses and a run-down State delivery mechanism finally forced a re-think on agriculture policies and investments. Since canal-irrigation was not an option for this vast rural population, the State devised the watershed development programme (WDP) – a more decentralised, micro-irrigation based agriculture system for the masses. At a fraction of the costs for any major irrigation project, the State was able to contain the growing disenchantment of the masses by providing them with a “sense” of ownership of the local natural resources as well as public funds. NGOs too loved the opportunity to decide on a share of public funds while nursing their constituencies of rural communities and show-casing their ‘models’ of development and poverty reduction. The WDP was also an answer to the environmentalists’ growing concerns over issues such as excessive use of fertilisers and pesticides, soil degradation due to over-irrigation (water-logging) and monoculture of high yielding varieties. It advocated the ecologically sound “ridge to valley” approach, promoted small check-dams and highlighted conservation as a stated objective. In reality, however, the WDP proved to be more of a sop to millions of small and medium farmers who felt they had missed the mega-irrigation and “green revolution” bus. The ridges were hardly touched, ostensibly due to land ownership by the Forest Department, where yet another related programme for Joint Forest Management (JFM) remained largely on paper. The recent thrust on agriculture extension through the Watershed Plus programme reinforces the notion that what we are witnessing is yet another round of technology infusion in irrigation and agriculture, albeit at a much wider level. Emerging issues in rural India The main environmental threat to sustained agricultural productivity in India is the growing alkalinity (and salinity) of waterlogged soils in the major irrigated croplands, particularly in the Indo-Gangetic plains. However, this problem is usually associated with relatively affluent farmers who have used excess water to grow cash crops. It is therefore more of a private concern that is linked to individual profits rather than a societal concern over future food security. Government programmes are generally for technical assistance that leverage private infusion of resources for the purpose. With increasing involvement of the corporate sector in farming activities in these areas, it is likely that substantial resources would indeed be mobilised and the issue would be treated solely as a private problem. The scope of corporate involvement is likely to remain limited for quite some time in most of the non-irrigated croplands, where government programmes will continue to play a major role. Soils degraded by improper management (excess of water, fertiliser or pesticides) in these croplands is therefore likely to be interpreted more as a programmatic failure rather than as a more rational desire of the small and marginal farmer to derive short-term benefits before shifting to other occupations. Some of these lands would eventually convert into regular irrigated agricultural lands, while some others would be used for non-agricultural purposes. The bulk of dry lands, however, may not be used for either intensive agriculture (simply for ecological reasons) or converted totally to non-farm uses (for want of policy support, at least in the short term). This is where indigenous environment management skills would indeed be tested and enhanced in order to provide sustainable economic dividends. A broad basket of such skills would include organic cultivation, dry land agricultural practices, and integration of diverse (but locally appropriate) farm-level interventions such as horticulture, floriculture, cultivation of medicinal plants, sericulture, bee keeping, animal husbandry, aquaculture etc. It may be interesting to note that the promotion of innovative, environmentally sound, farm-based livelihood practices are indeed succeeding in areas where conscious efforts are being made to use local conditions and skills and link the produce with niche markets, rather than merely appeal to the logic of sustainable yield. Managing diversity, particularly of biological resources in indigenous ecosystems, is indeed the single most formidable challenge in India. However, with greater individual stakes and consequent infusion of knowledge and other resources, the farm sector is set to diversify and optimise its productivity vis-à-vis its ecological milieu, thereby achieving the broad landscape level of biological diversity. The species (and genetic) levels of biological diversity are less well understood but more talked about. Therefore, the precautionary principle is being used to deny rights to local communities, deter corporate involvement and deny infrastructure development in forests, wetlands and other areas demarcated as “protected areas” or as “fragile ecosystems”. The government has taken upon itself the task of protecting nearly 6 percent of biological species found worldwide (which also provide the indigenous gene pool that is supposed to protect our national food production systems). As a first step, it has already committed itself to increase the proportion of land notified as “forest area” from a quarter to a third of the country’s territory. Despite the sops of eco-development projects, the cycle of dispossession, alienation and conflict is set to continue for the most marginalized communities of forest dwellers and grazers. Poverty, pollution and disconnected laws Pollution is, in general, a broad societal concern. In a developing economy, however, the poor seem to be disproportionately afflicted by it. The living and working spaces of poorer communities are particularly vulnerable to the scourges of environmental degradation and pollution, often having a direct bearing on their health. Quality of drinking water, sanitation and garbage are universal problems of the poor, be it the rural settlements or the peri-urban slums. Similarly, the work environment of the poor – be it the small-scale industry, a quarry or even a household hearth – remain the most polluted zones. Pollution in the work environment is generally dealt as occupational health issues, in India, usually as an appendage to an elaborate set of laws that regulate almost every aspect of industry. The first global conference on environment was held at Stockholm in 1972 and was attended by the heads of only two nations – India and hosts Sweden. The shared zeal and vision unfortunately failed to consider the contextual differences in developing and developed economies. Problems of drinking water quality and sanitation were unknown to the western world and stringent laws for occupational health issues were already in place. The western world-view on environmental problems, therefore, focussed on industrial emissions and discharge that affected people not related to the cause of pollution. This form of pollution was, at best, only a marginal concern in India, when stringent laws were introduced and an elaborate enforcement system was created in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. The disconnect was not just in the focus of legislative actions but also in their content. The laws, largely adapted from the USEPA for industrial pollution standards or from the European laws for vehicle emission standards, were idealistic rather than realistic, and the State seldom had the resources to implement these laws or absorb the cost of implementing them. The inevitable result was a widening gulf between what was desired and what was achieved. Pollution control in India was, thus, faced with a strange set of issues because of this gap. Large manufacturing units were mostly under State control, which either used taxpayers’ money to install costly pollution control equipment or eluded any individual accountability, which was essential for any prosecution. Smaller manufacturing units, usually in the private domain and the real polluting ones, were too numerous for any effective monitoring of compliance. Prosecution of defaulters is usually under criminal laws, which is both difficult and drawn out in our legal system. Direct actions, like disconnection of power and water supplies, have been allowed more recently, but even then enforcements have proved to be difficult to monitor. Ineffective laws tend to get trivialised, both by the law enforcer as well as the intended law abider. Institutional redundancy breeds complacency and inefficiency. Other power structures then intervene in important matters, which helps these institutions to further abdicate their responsibilities. Development, rights and civil actions In general, the environmental concerns of civil society were, on the other hand, much broader and more apt. When the State was busy importing (and imposing) environmental solutions in the early ‘70s, the home-grown “Chipko” (hugging a tree) movement was being resurrected by communities in the Himalayan foothills to prevent felling of trees. This resulted in a ban on felling in the forest areas of several States. Many forest areas, however, had already been degraded, where, rather than felling, the real issues pertained to regeneration of vegetation, along with retention of top-soil, recharge of groundwater and conservation of wild species. Unlike urban and other external economies that tend to primarily value only the timber, local communities are largely dependent on a variety of goods and services offered by a forest ecosystem. Rigid controls on resource extraction, therefore, severely affected traditional livelihoods, particularly of the poorer communities, rather than the large companies who worked out other supply sources in bamboo and plantations. The first models of community-managed watersheds emerged in the dry parts of Maharashtra during the mid ‘70s. Ralegaon Siddhi proved that communities could take charge of their lives even under extreme scarcity of resources. Other initiatives like the Gokul project became the precursor of highly successful initiatives of the Indo-German watershed projects. Poor communities in Mendha-Lekha (Gadchiroli) attempted the regeneration of highly degraded forests. The success of such Joint Forest Management (JFM) initiatives was evident when the communities in Sukho Majri actually paid an income tax on their incomes from the forests. The issue of water rights was seriously raised through the Narmada movement in the ‘80s, to be later joined by the Tehri movement. The notion of “sacrifice for the greater common good” was seriously questioned, and unprecedented questions were raised on environment and social issues. Land rights, riparian rights and environmental impacts were discussed seriously for the first time, eventually leading to fundamental changes in the policies of government and multi-lateral funding of large irrigation projects. Pollution issues gained prominence among civil society in the aftermath of the Bhopal gas tragedy in 1984 that killed over 3000 people and maimed many more thousands for life. Notwithstanding the shortcomings of our legal system, the episode spawned considerable interest in environmental laws among legal practitioners. The judiciary, particularly the apex institution, adopted a much more active role thereafter in moving suo moto petitions on environment and admitting class suits as public interest litigations (PILs). While the executive activism of the ‘70s did lead to some of the most prominent environmental actions in India (like the scrapping of the Silent Valley project, promulgation of the coastal zone regulations and the pollution control acts), judicial activism opened the doors for civil society to participate in the environmental debate. Support from the judiciary led to several successful campaigns such as those launched to protect the Chilika lake of Orissa and other coastal areas from industrial aquaculture. Subsequently, public hearings on environmental issues were introduced, which provided further opportunities for environmental action. Civil society groups working in the industrial belts of south Gujarat, for example, used the option effectively to prevent discharge of untreated effluents into the river Narmada. Environmental awareness and education played a very significant role in this entire process. Nature clubs, initiated in India in 1976 by the WWF (now the Worldwide Fund for Nature), and the writings of Salim Ali and other naturalists in the Bombay Natural History Society (BNHS) drew the interest of young minds towards the beauty of nature. But the real breakthrough came with the landmark publication of the Citizen’s Reports of the Centre for Science and Environment (CSE) in the early ‘80s. It was the first effort to draw popular attention to the real environmental crisis in India, refreshingly different from the official confusion on the subject. Finally, an effective supplement to the efforts of CSE was provided by a young Fulbright and, later, Ford Foundation scholar – Armin Rosencranz – who compiled and commented on the entire gamut of environmental legislation in the early ‘90s, which has since become the leading text in environmental laws in India. Corollary It is evident that environmental concerns have seen a major transformation during the past three decades. Emerging from an almost esoteric concern for wildlife, driven largely by aesthetics, it moved on to a passionate appeal for the protection of traditional peoples and their livelihood. Leading frugal lives modelled on traditional lifestyles was touted as the true solution, to be implemented by appealing to the collective guilt feeling of the human race for its perverse domination over other living creatures of the planet Earth. Only, it doesn’t seem to work. The latest is “sustainable development”, an attempt to integrate environmental concerns in regular economic activity at all levels. Ironically, notwithstanding their inherent disparate nature, all three approaches are mainstream environmental approaches in India today. Although the advocates of a pristine, human-free environment are shrinking (much like the last bastions of wildlife territories), they continue to play an important role in influencing decisions on the conservation of rare and endangered organisms. The second approach of “traditional” development (emphasising social, rather than economic basis of decision-making) is perhaps the dominant view, since it gels well with political expediency, judicial activism and bureaucratic controls. It remains the preferred approach for government and civil society organisations in policy and investment decisions pertaining to the majority of rural India. However, it is increasingly getting apparent that both these approaches work against the stated interests of poverty alleviation either by creating conflicts (“man and wildlife”) or by providing incentives to misuse (“the tragedy of commons”). There is, therefore, a growing realisation of the importance of secure property rights, commercial delivery of public services and economic instruments in environment management. The draft environment policy of Govt. of India is a clear indication of this trend. Not only does it seek to use “market-based instruments” in pollution control, it actually proposes improved property rights for the marginalised poor dependent on forest and grassland resources. This approach to environment management actually emphasise economic development and view environment resources as important inputs to the process which need to be owned and managed by those who use it. The tenets of this new paradigm will be based on use, rather than non-use (or future use), of environmental resources; economic, rather than social (and cultural), valuation of environmental goods and services; and individual, rather than societal (or governmental), custody for environmental resources.