Chipko’s Quiet Legacy: Forest Rights, Women’s Empowerment, People’s Institutions, and New Urban Struggles in Uttarakhand, India

Rajiv Rawat July 21, 2004

A Major Paper submitted to the Faculty of Environmental Studies in partial fulfillment of the requirements of the degree of Master in Environmental Studies

York University Toronto, Ontario, Canada MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat

Abstract

Since the emergence of Chipko in the early 1970s, much has been written about this unique environmental movement that once caught the imagination of environmentalists, scholars, and journalists alike. As a largely rural struggle of women peasant farmers to reclaim and protect village forests in the Uttarakhand region of India, Chipko seemed to represent at once a new phase of the global environmental movement and a resurgence of the age-old conflict between people and the state over community resources. However, while much of the academic literature has focused on interpreting Chipko through various disciplinary and ideological lenses and engaging in often acrimonious debates over the character and composition of the movement, surprisingly little attention has been paid to its quiet legacy as a catalyzing force for environmental action, local democracy, and social change. Since Chipko, Uttarakhand has witnessed a veritable explosion of creative and groundbreaking responses to the Himalayan region’s numerous environmental and social problems. Community forest management, women’s empowerment, and civil society institutions have especially witnessed three decades of rapid change and advancement. Each in turn has encountered serious obstacles and controversies at the local, national, and even international levels. As such, this paper will attempt to delve into the broader historic and contemporary contexts of these Chipko themes, while moving beyond the movement’s traditional rural orientation to the associated environmental and political transformations taking place in urban centres.

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Foreword

This paper represents the culmination of my graduate work in the MES program at the Faculty of Environmental Studies at York University. In addition to a major project report on my involvement in the Nanda Devi Campaign that has been appended to this submission, the final program output meets the learning objectives set out in my project proposal while also fulfilling all three components of my area of concentration. While departing slightly from the overly ambitious original outline, I have strived to compensate with more vigorous discussions of the subject areas that form the foundations of each chapter.

On a personal note, the genesis of this paper lay in the need to tell an alternative story about Chipko, one that would be both inspirational and sober in its assessment of the movement’s ideals, goals, and actual outcomes. Acknowledging my interest in presenting a hopeful rather than despairing picture of the movement, I nonetheless endeavoured to look closely at both the central and ancillary issues encountered in Chipko’s thirty-year evolution from an exhilarating era of forest protests to a multifaceted process of social, political, and environmental transformation that continues to this day.

As a native of the Uttarakhand region, I also felt a deep responsibility to the struggling individuals and communities that have overcome daunting obstacles to sustain their livelihoods and natural environment. I have often felt troubled by academic scholars who have not always served the best interests of their research “subjects.” Whether for the Nanda Devi Biosphere Reserve, where scientists recommended the closure of the park without considering the catastrophic impact on the local people, to very public spats that further factionalized an already diverse movement and demoralized its supporters, researchers have harmed as well as helped the cause. While perhaps not within their official purview to actively participate rather than observe movements, community- sponsored research requires at least the greatest exercise of caution when presenting critical information about a particular village or community.

As such, it is with extreme gratitude and respect that I have humbly written this latest version of the Chipko story, one that I hope sheds new light on the ongoing struggles for the future of the Uttarakhand Himalayas.

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank first and foremost the countless activists who have worked tirelessly and selflessly to save, nurture, and protect the sacred land of Uttarakhand while struggling to emancipate themselves and others from social injustice, gender discrimination, and the daily oppression of ceaseless toil, hunger, and neglect. Their sacrifices have generally gone unrecognized by a society given to lauding the prestige of the rich, powerful, and famous, and I am more than proud to acknowledge them here and in this paper. I am especially grateful for the mentorship of Sunil Kainthola, Biju Negi, and Sreedhar Ramamurthy who I have kept in close contact with over vast geographic distances.

Closer to home, I wish to express my deepest thanks to my family and colleagues. My parents — Sudhir Singh and Nanda Devi — in particular have nurtured a profound devotion to the motherland, tempered by the sadness of separation and the shadow of cultural loss that is increasingly being felt in our globalized world. My sisters — Mamta and Vinita — have motivated me in different ways throughout my life, encouraging an abiding interest in almost every discipline of study, in addition to boosting a greater self-awareness and assuredness. School, work, and activist friends from Toronto and Boston have also contributed to my well being, and I am forever grateful for their friendship and camaraderie during the best of times and the darkest moments of this millennium’s already turbulent four years.

Last but not least, I would like to thank the love of my life, Monique Robitaille, who by joining me in Toronto has turned this past year into the most momentous of the thirty I have spent as a human being on this Earth. Especially in the last leg of this journey, I could not have made it without her.

Rajiv Rawat Toronto, Canada

July 21, 2004

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Table of Contents

Abstract...... 2 Foreword ...... 3 Acknowledgements...... 4 Table of Contents...... 5 Introduction...... 8 Chipko’s Ironies ...... 8 Reconsidering Chipko...... 9 The Role of this Report...... 11 Chapter I: Uttarakhand at a Glance ...... 13 Introduction ...... 13 The Land...... 13 The People ...... 15 History in Brief ...... 16 The New State...... 18 Chapter II: Van Panchayats and the People’s Forests...... 20 Introduction ...... 20 Genesis of Van Panchayats ...... 21 Van Panchayats as Unique Institutions...... 22 Vestiges of Colonialism...... 23 From Autonomy to Autocracy...... 24 JFM’s Potential for Good or Ill ...... 26 The World Bank’s Role...... 27 Traditional Alternatives in Forest Management...... 28 Omnivores vs. Ecosystem People ...... 31 Timeline: Two Centuries in Uttarakhand’s Forests ...... 34 Chapter III: Women Arising ...... 35 Introduction ...... 35 From the Grassroots: the Mahila Mangal Dals ...... 36 Displacing Women Again...... 39 Social Limitations of MMDs...... 39 The Return of Panchayati Raj ...... 41 The Great Game: Politics at the National Level...... 45 All Politics are Local...... 47 Uniting against Patriarchy...... 50

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Chapter IV: Civil Society Resurgence ...... 52 Introduction ...... 52 Grassroots Institutions ...... 53 Case Study: Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan...... 53 Local-Global Partnerships...... 54 Case Study: SBMA ...... 54 Case Studies: AME & CHIRAG ...... 55 Dangerous & Endangered NGOs ...... 57 Case Study: Sahayog...... 57 Responsibility & Accountability in Today’s NGOs ...... 58 From Cooptation to Cooperation ...... 59 Selected List of NGOs ...... 61 AME (Academy for Mountain Environics) ...... 61 Navdanya Trust ...... 62 Beej Bachao Andolan ...... 62 DGSM (Dasholi Gram Swaraj Mandal) ...... 63 HARC (Himalayan Action Research Centre) ...... 64 HESCO (Himalayan Environmental Studies and Conservation Organization)...... 64 Himalaya Trust...... 65 PAHAR (People’s Association for Himalayan Area Research)...... 66 RLEK (Rural Litigation and Entitlement Kendra)...... 67 SBMA (Shri Bhuvaneshwari Mahila Ashram)...... 68 SIDH (Society for the Integrated Development of Himalayas)...... 69 USN (Uttarakhand Seva Nidhi) ...... 70 Chapter V: Emerging Urban Concerns and Movements...... 71 Introduction ...... 71 India’s Urban Boom ...... 71 Dehradun and Uttarakhand’s Cities in the Mountains...... 72 New Recognition for Urban Local Bodies ...... 74 Experience of Urban Planning in the Doon Valley...... 75 Capacity Building for Urban Governance...... 76 Litigation and Agitation against Limestone Mining ...... 77 The Stand at Sinsyaru Khala 1986-1987...... 78 The Supreme Court Monitoring Committee ...... 79 Limestone Redux: Kataldi 2001-2003...... 80 The Return of Mining ...... 81 Towards an Urban Chipko...... 82

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Appendix I: Glossaries ...... 84 Overlapping Definitions and Place Names...... 84 Glossary of Indian Terms...... 85 Geographic Terminology ...... 85 Organizational Terminology...... 86 Movement Terminology ...... 87 Conceptual Terminology ...... 88 Social Terminology...... 88 Other Terminology...... 89 Appendix II Uttarakhand Maps...... 90 Districts & Political Divisions ...... 91 River Systems & Prominent Towns ...... 92 Historical Map...... 93 Forest Governance...... 94 Population & Gender...... 95 Environmental Crises of the Doon Valley...... 96 Appendix III: Bibliography ...... 97

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Introduction

On March 26, 2004, the Indian village of Reni on the border with Tibet commemorated a significant milestone in the Chipko movement’s stirring history. As the best known and most widely studied Indian environmental movement until the recent advent of the Narmada struggle in the 1990s, Chipko became a potent symbol of rising environmental consciousness in developing countries in the years of the global environmental movement’s coming of age. As the most recent upsurge in the long struggle for forest rights in the Uttarakhand section of the Indian Himalayas, the very name Chipko (Hindi, “to hug”) invoked the fanciful imagery of tree-hugging as an act of resistance to environmental policies that endangered communities through the expropriation and clear-felling of forests.

Women were especially inspired by the example of Reni, where women and girls led by the elderly Gaura Devi acted on their own to defend their community forest from commercial logging. That women from throughout Uttarakhand repeated this successful direct action, gave Chipko and the global environmental movement in general a gendered hue that it had hitherto lacked. Eventually, Chipko’s twin identity as a struggle of the rural poor and of women would give rise to new thinking around social justice and gender equality concerns as central to any genuine grassroots environmental movement.

Chipko’s Ironies

However, in Reni, celebrations were relatively muted and confused by the longstanding tensions between the government and people, while in the rest of the region, the anniversary went by largely unnoticed. In fact, beyond this local anniversary, few milestones of Chipko had ever been marked, reflecting the fading fortunes of a movement that saw its last large scale actions in the mid 1980s. Moreover, in recent years, this apparent decline became the focus of several academic debates. While in the 1970s and 1980s, environmental activists in India and abroad celebrated and drew inspiration from the movement, scholarly work in the 1990s has sought to analyze its impact in a far gloomier context. As the last Chipko actions receded into history, journalists and scholars began to look critically at some of principal discourses that emerged from Chipko, taking to task both their deleterious effects on local communities as well as their mythologizing that bore less and less resemblance to ground reality.

At their most constructive, these later studies revealed how the same discourses that served to popularize Chipko at a time when conservation was synonymous with environmental preservation,

York University 8 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat also reflected a bias towards global interpretations that distracted from intensely local Chipko struggles. Thus, the slackening of Chipko’s actions in the 1980s was revealed as a deeply ironic consequence of Chipko’s success, where faith in government action was betrayed with both the government’s draconian conservation policies and an even more rapacious regime of extraction under state monopoly (Mitra, 1993). Even in Reni, friction between the government and local people over competing plans for the commemoration highlighted this key contradiction of the Chipko legacy, where the assertion of local resource rights in defense of the forests was confused with an alien conservationist ideology that sought to preserve the trees for commercial use at the expense of human communities that relied on them for their livelihoods.

Indeed, dismal obituaries of Chipko (Aryal, 1994) and attempts to deconstruct its central mythology (Rangan, 2000), have proved sobering reading for subscribers of more optimistic Chipko narratives (Mishra & Tripathi, 1978; Nelson, 1993; Shiva & Bandyopadhyay, 1986; Weber, 1987). Popular deep ecology and ecofeminist Chipko narratives have also come under intense scrutiny for their alleged misrepresentation of what were essentially forest rights struggles (Bandyopadhyay, 1999; Mawdsley, 1998). This has been particularly poignant for ecofeminism that despite its analytical shortcomings and reliance on mythologized depictions of rural hill women, has evolved into a powerful spiritual and ideological force, mobilizing female environmental activists throughout the world (Shiva, 1988).

In Uttarakhand itself, attention also turned away from Chipko to the long simmering demand for a separate state that animated nearly all sections of society throughout the 1990s. With its penetration into nearly almost arena of public discourse, "environmental" movements, or those specifically focused on the linkage of natural resources and livelihood issues, were swept aside. In fact, interest in environmental issues seemed to wane as the movement’s proponents demanded development and prosperity they argued had been neglected due to the region’s lack of political autonomy and independent identity. As such, the ascent of the Uttarakhand movement demonstrated to Chipko’s critics the eclipse of exclusively environmental concerns by those of economic advancement at any cost (Mawdsley, 1998; Rangan, 1996).

Reconsidering Chipko

While these new studies have done much to clarify the context for Chipko’s ironic impact, the terrain of discourse analysis proved so rich and so deliciously contentious, that it itself became the focus of excessive academic acrimony. Indeed, several of the same commentaries that noted the transformation of Chipko from a grassroots uprising to a veritable academic cottage industry,

York University 9 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat engaged in the trade themselves (Aryal, 1994). Not only did these disputes drive wedges between academics, but also between activists including the legendary split between leading personalities Sunderlal Bahuguna and Chandi Prasad Bhatt that was in no small measure exacerbated by partisan press coverage (Guha, 1993). For those on the activist side, the effects of this friction proved tragic, further weakening faith in Chipko as a catalyzing force for environmental change in the region.

Moreover, the uncharitable depictions of Chipko’s dominant personalities overlooked their life-long dedication to the issues that first launched them onto the international stage. Sunderlal Bahuguna, the leader most identified with Chipko’s deep ecology philosophy, began his life of service as a Gandhian Sarvodaya worker and has firmly drawn on Indian ecological tradition to make his case for environmental action. His larger ideas on how deeply local populations are intertwined with their natural environment has accompanied a significant literary output and involvement in various social concerns throughout the years (Guha, 2000).

Moreover, the recent defeat of the post-Chipko struggle against the Tehri Dam with the inundation of Tehri town in 2002 has weighed heavily on the Chipko veteran. As one of the highest and largest dams in all of Asia, villagers and Chipko activists have contested the megaproject since the late 1970s, yet it became a deeply personal issue for Bahuguna who staked his dwindling appeal on his Himalaya Bachao Andolan or Save the Himalayas movement. As his personal “Waterloo”, the failure to stop the Tehri dam even after three fasts-onto-death in the 1990s, demonstrated the shortcomings of his mode of personalized charismatic activism and the continuing supremacy of the development paradigm, but did not detract from his commitment to his beloved land. The government has also vowed not to repeat the mistakes of Tehri that dragged on for years of environmental injunctions, hasty clearances, demonstrations by the displaced, and the subsequent ballooning of costs and public exhaustion over the issue.

The other prominent Chipko organizer, Chandi Prasad Bhatt, has followed a more low-key approach to environmental protection since the 1970s. Rather than high profile campaigns, Bhatt has remained committed to community work, whether through organizing reforestation campaigns or cooperating with governments for the responsible management of local resources (Guha, 2002). Although scholars and journalists have identified these differences as an ideological split, pitting Bahuguna’s deep ecology against Bhatt’s pragmatic environmentalism, the two leaders have shared remarkably similar views and concerns for the environment, differing most in their mode of activism, use of symbols and rhetoric in their communication, and extent of collaboration with the

York University 10 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat authorities. Both have demonstrated a concern for human rights and environmental conservation rather than each ever alone.

The Role of this Report

Despite these controversies surrounding competing claims and interpretations of Chipko and its consequences, the movement has in fact left a lasting legacy of empowerment and institutional change. While several of the critiques went so far as to declare Chipko’s near extinction in the land of its birth, countless individuals beyond Bhatt and Bahuguna have quietly sought and implemented solutions to the environmental and social crises affecting their communities over the past thirty years. Chipko did always encompass a whole range of intensely local actions around community resource rights. Attempts to lump them all together has undeniably led to a confusion over the movement’s goals, policies, and personalities, especially when the government has responded with a singular voice that has impacted all the communities. Likewise, both advocates and critics have fixated on their own readings of the Chipko experience as a historical artifact, rather than a living expression of the people fighting to reclaim their rights and protect their commons.

Therefore, to adapt an old adage, the struggles have continued, but may have shifted to new sites of resistance unfamiliar to past Chipko scholarship. This paper, through a series of investigations into key Chipko themes, will move beyond these competing discourses and personality politics to reveal the movement’s lasting constructive influence on the region. Departing from previous studies of Chipko, it will attempt to delve into institutional developments and processes, focusing on people's engagement with the structures they have themselves created or that have been ostensibly established to further their goals. Most importantly, by reviewing people's institutions and the processes of empowerment, self-determination, and environmental governance that have emerged in the wake of Chipko, this paper will attempt to reestablish the lost historical continuity between Chipko and contemporary efforts to empower and defend the environmental rights of Uttarakhand’s local communities.

The first chapter will serve to introduce the Uttarakhand region as the paper’s geographic area of interest. Beyond describing the people and the land, this section will briefly review environmental aspects of the region’s history, citing salient features of the prevailing socio-economic structures that have influenced its extraordinary and unique environmental and social movements over the past century. In addition, the region’s current identity and aspirations as the newly created state of Uttaranchal within the Indian Union will be explored to contextualize the contemporary scenario.

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The second chapter will address the complex history of forest management at the heart of various Chipko struggles, starting with Uttarakhand’s colonial era Van Panchayats or village forest councils that have persisted despite the systematic encroachment of their powers by government agencies. Likewise, it will discuss the joint-forest management regimes sponsored by the World Bank and the surprising reasons behind local opposition to them. It will also review several traditional forest conservation methods long practiced and recently adapted by Chipko activists for the needs of today.

The third chapter will delve into another core aspect of most Chipko narratives, namely the mass participation and leadership of women. Since Chipko, the process of women’s empowerment has made substantial progress, moving from near invisibility a decade ago (Mehta, 1991) to a chief concern for policy makers. However, this section will extend the discussion outwards and look at how through various structures and processes such as self-help groups, village councils, national politics, and social movements, the women of Uttarakhand have attempted to fulfill their leadership potential made so evident during the Chipko struggle.

The fourth chapter will review the evolution and experiences of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that have emerged in Chipko’s wake. Adopting a whole range of institutional structures, methodologies and funding relationships, civil society groups have expanded to embrace a multitude of responses to the environmental and livelihood challenges faced by Chipko. While in many cases, the work of NGOs have been exemplary, they have also faced troubling questions over their accountability and transparency as institutions working closely with communities, yet drawing funds from governmental and even international sources. How NGOs have managed to balance these conflicting interests, while carrying forward their programs for social change will be looked at in detail.

Lastly, the paper will depart from Chipko’s rural orientation to investigate the emerging environmental concerns of urban centres. With the rapid growth of India’s cities, the need to shift the terrain of environmental action is increasingly being felt. How Chipko’s legacy of local empowerment, decentralized governance, and movement politics can inform urban experiences will be looked at from both an urban governance and activist perspective. Chipko era struggles over limestone mining, coupled with a recent resurgence of the mining threat will serve to bridge Chipko’s rural past and possible urban future as a resurgent people’s movement.

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Chapter I: Uttarakhand at a Glance

Introduction

Bounded by Tibet to the North, Nepal to the East, the state of Himachal Pradesh to the West, and the plains of Uttar Pradesh state to the South, Uttaranchal was carved out of Uttar Pradesh in 2000 as the 27th state of the Indian Union. Encompassing 13 districts, the state is geographically diverse, ranging from the fertile terai plains in the South to the trans Himalayan ranges marking its northern border. The hilly section, traditionally known as Uttarakhand (“North Country” in Sanskrit) and geographically described as the Central Himalayas, has occupied various spaces in the imagination of Indians and Westerners alike. Each space in turn has had a long and celebrated history. As noted in ancient texts, tourists have flocked to the hills for thousands of years. The fresh mountain air and cooler climes led to the establishment of several hill stations and convalescence depots during the British Raj, while in the post-independence period, Uttarakhand has remained a key destination for Hindu, Buddhist, and Sikh pilgrims.

The Land

Known also as the abode of the gods or “Devbhumi”, the entire upper reaches of Uttarakhand have long been considered sacred topology. Uttarakhand’s primary shrines of Badrinath and Kedarnath have drawn devotees of Vishnu and Shiva respectively for at least a thousand years, while temples to various local goddesses have been placed on hilltops across the region. To the immediate northeast in Tibet, Mount Kailash, the traditional abode of Shiva and mythical centre of the world can be found. Furthermore, the sacred Ganges emerges from glaciers in the extreme north before making its way to the plains through the gateway cities of Rishikesh and Hardwar. Likewise, the Yamuna and various other tributaries of the Ganges descend to the plains through Uttarakhand, carving the deep valleys that characterize much of the region’s difficult terrain.

Dehradun, the region’s largest city and provisional capital of Uttaranchal state is located 255 km from India’s capital, New Delhi. When passing through Dehradun, the terrain and climate abruptly change from the slope of the Shivalik Hills to the Doon Valley to the incline once again of the Lesser Himalayas and Mussoorie hill station. Though patches of the dusty desert of the plains are encroaching on Uttarakhand’s southern ranges, the northern reaches are still heavily forested and extremely hilly.

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Garhwal and Kumaon, the two main cultural and political divisions of Uttarakhand, are commonly divided into three physiological zones that span the full breadth of the Central Himalayas:

1. Trans and High Himalayas: making up much of Uttarkashi, Chamoli, and Pithoragarh districts, this zone begins at 3000 metres and proceeds steeply to numerous peaks above 6000 metres. Nanda Devi, the tallest peak in the region, stands at 7817 metres.

2. Middle Himalayas: proceeding from southern Uttarkashi through Tehri, Chamoli, Almora, and Pithoragarh, here the slope rises to heights of 2000 to 3000 metres.

3. Lesser Himalayas and Shivalik Hills: merging with the adjoining Terai, this area includes Dehradun, southern Pauri Garhwal, and Nainital at around 600 to 2000 metres above sea level.

Officially, Uttarakhand’s forest cover exceeds 60 percent although extensive degradation and fragmentation has been noted. Oak (banj) and chir pine are the chief anchor species for many Middle Himalayan forests (Ram, Kumar, & Bhatt, 2004). Uttarakhand is also a hotspot for biodiversity, with an abundance of flora and fauna found in the various microclimates of different altitudes. The Indian government has established national parks in the state including Rajaji, Corbett, Nanda Devi, Gangotri, and the Valley of Flowers, as well as several smaller wildlife and bird sanctuaries.

Types of forests along the altitude gradient of Uttaranchal state

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The People

The ethnic and caste composition of the people of Uttarakhand reflects its fluid history. In Garhwal and Kumaon, lower castes forming one-fourth of the population have been traditionally and anthropologically associated with the original inhabitants of the hills. The numerically dominant Khas Rajputs and Brahmins migrated sometime in the last millennium from central Asia, but were later supplanted by an even higher strata of upper caste groups that arrived from central India following the widespread conflict of the medieval period. Although the British period saw social reforms encourage the upward mobility of Khas Rajputs into the ranks of these Asli (“true”) Rajputs, Brahmin subcastes generally chose to retain their hierarchies. The lower castes also saw little change in their subordinate position until recently, when political movements from the rest of India began making major inroads in the region (Negi, 1995).

The tribal populations making up nearly 10 percent of the state population have also seen their own particular social evolution. In the Jaunsar Bawar region of Dehradun district, the Khas Rajputs have forged a unique culture with the lower Kholta castes. The Bhotiya of the trans Himalayan region have long shared relations and ethnic ties with Tibet, although in recent decades their customs have begun to merge with their southerly Garhwali and Kumaoni neighbours. Meanwhile, in the Terai region, the communally-organized Buksha and Tharu have dispensed with caste distinctions, yet since 1947, they have been increasingly displaced by Sikh migrants from West Punjab. In Dehradun and Hardwar districts, the Muslim Gujjar pastoralists have taken up residence in the forests over the last two centuries. Another enigmatic people, the Raji, have long inhabited tracts of forests in Champawat district (Bisht, 1994).

Although predominantly Hindu, beliefs in Uttarakhand have traditionally been generally heterodox, reflecting an admixture with ancient indigenous practices. Caste differentiation has been far more informal with many taboos over food and commerce more relaxed than in the plains. Interestingly, no indigenous trader caste has emerged, as the economy has remained agricultural with the Rajputs as the primary cultivators and landowners and the scheduled castes as the main service providers in a three to one ratio. Commerce in towns and along pilgrimage routes of Uttarakhand has instead been taken up by Banias from the plains.

Economically, the poverty and daily grind of eking a living from the hills has been a central fact of life for at least a century. Made up of mostly subsistence farmers, the social and economic structures of typical Uttarakhand communities are not too different from other mountain communities around the world. A cluster of houses surrounded by terraced fields makes up most villages. Farms are

York University 15 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat generally small as are class divisions, with the terrain restricting the growth of landholdings beyond the caste dichotomy that divides most villages into two upper and lower caste settlements.

A hallmark of Uttarakhandi life has been its money-order economy. The large-scale out migration of men in search of employment in the plains or in the army has dramatically altered the demographic balance and culture of the region. While men predominate in urban centres, the interior rural districts are amongst the few in all of India that contain significant female majorities. The patriarchal system still predominates, but due to their inordinate role in the local agricultural economy, women also enjoy more personal freedoms than their counterparts in the plains. However, their daily workload far exceeds that of men who are largely relegated to visiting the village from their work in the plains or passing the days gossiping in the village square (Pande, 1996).

History in Brief

While the land of Uttarakhand was first mentioned in ancient Hindu scriptures, its modern political and cultural identity dates to the medieval principalities of Garhwal and Kumaon. Garhwal was traditionally known as the land of “Garhs” or forts that were first brought under one central authority in the 14th century. Kumaon kings traced their lineage further back to 8th century, but did not expand out from their capital of Champawat until five centuries later. Both dynasties originated in Maharashtra and Gujarat respectively, reflecting the political subjugation of the Khas tribes by that period (Rawat, 1989).

Throughout the late medieval period, the Kumaon and Garhwal kings fought for supremacy in Uttarakhand. Despite centuries of prosperity and expansion, their constant feuding eventually weakened their kingdoms to the extent that they were quickly overrun by the expansionist Gurkha Empire in 1791 and 1803 respectively. Although the Kumaon dynasty came to an end, the son of the last Garhwal raja sought help from the British to reclaim his kingdom. By 1815, a series of encroachments on British-held territory triggered the brief Anglo-Gurkha war, that saw Garhwal and Kumaon ceded to the British and the modern boundaries of Nepal defined by treaty. However, the British returned nominal control over western Garhwal to its raja, while retaining the eastern segment and fusing it with its new Kumaon possession (Rawat, 1989).

By winning the rights over the territorial extent of the region, the British not only gained lucrative trade routes to Tibet, but also the rights over the enormous forest wealth of Uttarakhand, which they immediately began exploiting. Within decades of their intrusion into the area, the felling of trees was in full swing to serve the industrial revolution in England and the colonial state’s infrastructure. The

York University 16 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat felling was undertaken in both in the British dominions and Tehri state, as the nominally independent principality came to be known. Tree replanting also altered the ecological balance of the hills – replacing slow growing oaks and deodar (Himalayan Cedar) with chir pine, both for timber and resin use – and the Forest Department became the main enforcer of both appropriated “reserve” forest boundaries and the new plantations.

The exploitation marginalized the subsistence agriculture of the region, which was the backbone of the economy and depended heavily on unrestricted access to common lands. Moreover, forest laws were crafted to conserve the remaining forests and restrict them for colonial consumption (Farooqui, 1997). The forest laws in effect usurped the rights of the local peasantry, not unlike the enclosure movement of England where feudal agricultural communities suffered the same calamity from the same hands. However, the decline of agriculture as a livelihood was partially mitigated by the heavy recruitment of Garhwali youth into the British military, where they served with distinction through the First and Second World Wars.

The Forest Department, along with the colonial administration, came to represent the main oppressive force in the lives of villagers, whose leaders began challenging their authority by reasserting traditional forest rights, staging protest fires as sabotage and other demonstrations of discontent. Even military recruits were affected, with a Garhwali company revolting against orders to fire on unarmed demonstrators in 1930 and whole battalions going over to the rebel side in World War II. These uprisings, combined with protests against the practice of forced labour, did achieve major reforms. By India’s formal independence, the entire region, including Tehri state, which witnessed its own revolutionary movement, was merged with the new state of Uttar Pradesh (Saklani, 1987).

The Indian state however continued in the footsteps of its British patron, although now, with industrialization turned inward, demands on resources grew fast. Coupled with the 1962 border war with China that saw an end to the ancient trade with Tibet, the economic conditions in the hills declined precipitously. New social scourges such as alcoholism emerged to deteriorate the livelihood of the inhabitants. Women were particularly impacted, as the mass migration of men to the plains for work picked up steam, leaving them to tend to the ever more onerous task of working the family farm.

Heavy deforestation came to be seen as the source of many of these problems, as landslips and floods became more devastating, springs dried up, and foraging for fuel wood consumed more and more of a villager’s working day. New roads built in the wake of the India-China War also opened

York University 17 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat up new forest tracts for exploitation. Furthermore, the Forest Department’s contractor system continued to auction off Uttarakhand’s forest wealth, leaving little for the local economy or local use. By 1973, the stage was set for an uprising against the regional forest policy that had remained in place since the British left (Guha, 2000).

Hence the Chipko movement, led by Gandhian activists in concert with village women, mobilized the peasantry to reclaim their rights. With this awakening, the hills burst into activity, as contractors were shut down or chased away by the strength of Garhwali women who dared the axes to fall on their backs. Indeed, their backbreaking work collecting fuel and fodder from the denuded hills had been a strong factor prompting their overwhelming involvement in the region’s social and environmental movements. By 1980, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi finally accepted a ten-year ban on tree felling above a 1000 metres. The contractor system was replaced with a state forest corporation, ostensibly to better manage timber harvesting in keeping with the public interest.

In the subsequent years, the Forest Department actually gained additional powers as concern for the natural environment mounted, and conservation became a national priority. This frustrated many Chipko activists, as much of their movement was based on forest rights as opposed to state-managed conservation that led to further restrictions on subsistence usage. Similarly, in other parts of India, the new focus on forest conservation led to further dispossession of mostly Adivasi or indigenous peoples who lived in the forest. The growing gulf between urban and rural development also contributed to a sense that the new dispensation was even more unfavourable than the previous regime with the full power of the state now behind their exploitation (Aryal, 1994).

Eventually, the lack of development in Uttarakhand led to another movement that found its fullest expression in the 1990s. By the 1994, after years of simmering resentment, the long-held demand for statehood finally boiled over, leading to a largely non-violent struggle for political empowerment and autonomy. Galvanized by a resurgent socio-political identity and resentment over insensitivity shown to the region, the promise of a separate “Uttarakhand” state spread throughout the entire region and all sectors of society. By November 2000, after years of marches, rallies, and strikes, the state of “Uttaranchal”, which combined the Uttarakhand Himalayas with the restive plains districts of Hardwar and Udham Singh Nagar, was separated from Uttar Pradesh.

The New State

Uttaranchal state faces many formidable challenges in its infancy. In addition to the environmental crisis, health facilities and educational institutions are few and far between and the lack of

York University 18 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat employment opportunities is still inducing an out migration of men. Uttaranchal’s economic viability as an independent entity remains in question even as economists, planners, and development specialists have proposed countless blueprints for the state’s economic future. The state also comes of age at a time when the Indian central government is in active retreat from its development responsibilities. Furthermore, the growing role of the private sector, which may or may not fill this shortfall in public spending, represents a new factor whose potential impact remains largely unknown (Pande, 2001). Uttaranchal must also grapple with a disparate population, tilted towards the hill residents who fought for Uttarakhand, but numerically dominated by plains people who were ambivalent, if not actively opposed to statehood (Pal, 2000).

In the months leading up to formal statehood, the People’s Union of Civil Liberties (PUCL) conducted an extensive study tour of the Uttarakhand region that gave voice to a broad based vision at the heart of the separate state movement. PUCL’s survey determined that despite the diversity of opinion and political ideologies within the separate state movement, almost all factions voiced their opposition to centralization and called for the adoption of modes of governance and development along egalitarian and decentralized lines. As an impoverished mountainous region with a rich natural resource base, many also felt that a smaller state should foster development policies appropriate to Uttarakhand’s unique demographic, geographic, and ecological characteristics. To this effect, decentralization of both political and economic power to the grassroots level was seen as a necessary step towards unlocking the full democratic potential of the region after the mobilization and ferment of the previous three decades. Furthermore, the empowerment and advancement of women, basic needs such as water, health, education, and electricity, and the growth and expansion of people’s institutions for decentralized and accountable government were expressed as priorities for the new state (PUCL, 2000). Most importantly for the Uttarakhandi people, formal statehood finally affirmed the region’s unique history and socio-cultural development, long denied by its submergence into the larger administrative unit of Uttar Pradesh state (Kumar, 2000). Indeed, as the last Himalayan region to achieve some form of political autonomy, creation of Uttaranchal has rectified a historic oversight left over from decolonization.

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Chapter II: Van Panchayats and the People’s Forests

Introduction

Even before the upheavals of the Chipko era, the rural communities of Uttarakhand have intermittently waged a hundred year old battle to regain their forest rights. While villages have traditionally relied upon their forest commons for food, fuel, fodder, and other basics of a small-scale subsistence economy, the State has viewed forests as a resource to be managed and exploited scientifically. While in the colonial era, the British Raj couched its forest policies in the discourse of conservation and scientific management, Independent India has ostensibly affirmed the rights of its citizens, while working with antiquated systems of forest management that changed little in the post- colonial era. Moreover, while claiming for itself stewardship over the nation’s forest wealth, the government further centralized power in the forest sector, while embarking on a new wave of intensified industrial development that increased the consumption of timber products.

These fundamental contradictions have played out in the uneasy and often hostile relationship between the Forest Department, and the people who have continued to struggle to regain their rights. However, even before Chipko found its widest expression in the 1970s, intense forest rights agitation swept Uttarakhand during the freedom struggle, leading to a reform of forestry laws that returned some power back to local communities. In the 1930s, these concessions led to the establishment of village forest councils in the form of Van Panchayats (VPs) throughout Uttarakhand. Drawing both upon traditional management practices and administrative arrangements with the Forest Department, the unique VP system has experienced a level of success in the areas of its operation, despite its limited range and dearth of resources.

Given this history, the recent introduction of Joint Forest Management regimes (JFM) in the post- Chipko era has promised much but may have changed little in state-community relations. Imposed as a conditionality of further World Bank lending to the forest sector, JFM consists of government- administered efforts to increase participation of local people in the management of their own commons and protected forests. In parts of Uttarakhand, where VPs have regulated forests under decades-old community arrangements, the Forest Department’s newfound zeal for enacting participatory processes under JFM has caused confusion and prompted resistance. Moreover, persistent attempts to undermine the functioning of the Van Panchayats and expand protected areas in the form of national parks and biosphere reserves further inflamed the separate state movement of the 1990s. But, much like the transition from colonial rule to independence, the granting of

York University 20 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat statehood in 2000 has seemingly changed little, prompting renewed calls for empowering local institutions like the VPs.

This chapter will attempt to shed light on how local communities through the Van Panchayats have managed their forests through much of the last century. It will attempt to delineate the circumstances and pressures surrounding the current forest policies and disposition of the state agencies towards decentralization. The roles of the World Bank and state government will be reviewed, paying particular attention to their relationship with local institutions and governance structures tasked to carry forward their joint mandate. As a response, a few examples of traditional forest management regimes will be described and local success stories outlined. Finally, the chapter will try to link the ongoing struggle between the State and local communities to the significant transformations currently taking place in the field of resource management, largely prompted by the experiences of local environmental movements that have emerged in the wake of Chipko.

Genesis of Van Panchayats

Van Panchayats (VPs) in Uttarakhand, India are among the oldest existing examples of joint forest management in the world. Initiated in 1931 as a response to the increasingly serious outbreaks of rebellion over the draconian forest policies of the colonial regime, the VP system did return some significant rights to Uttarakhand’s villagers after more than half a century of successive dispossession for the increasingly avaricious industrial and infrastructure needs of the British Empire.

As a central grievance of the Himalayan peasantry, the appropriation of the forests by both the colonial authorities and their counterparts of the Tehri princely state had prompted large-scale resentment. In the Kumaon region where the British Raj directly governed, the Revenue Department and subsequently the Forest Department gained control of the forests in 1879 and 1910 respectively. Coupled with the degrading forced labour system that demanded service without compensation, this bitterness boiled over in a series of protests and strikes in 1921 that swept Kumaon (Guha, 1993). The deliberate setting of forest fires was a particularly effective tactic used by the insurrection that incurred heavy losses to British interests. Within the year, the British had established the Forest Grievances Committee that attempted to bridge the gap between local communities and the government. By the late 1920s, the first VPs were established and by 1931 officially recognized in law (Kumar, 2003).

In Tehri Garhwal that had remained under the traditional raja after the British conquest in 1815, forest policies followed the same course as in British Garhwal (present day Pauri, Rudraprayag, and

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Chamoli districts) and Kumaon. Forest conservation and a strict regulation of forest access followed the conversion of forest lands into a source of revenue for the kingdom. By as early as 1885, the loss of rights had prompted the peasantry to demand redress. On two occasions in 1904 and 1906, this restiveness broke out in open revolt against the state forestry officials but did not spread beyond the localities involved. In 1930, revisions to forest concessions granted to the people of the Rawain area now in western Uttarkashi district, prompted another uprising that ended in a massacre of villagers by the state’s militia. As in Kumaon, forest fires were lit throughout the 1930s until the mass movement successfully toppled the princely state, which merged with independent India in 1948 (Saklani, 1987).

Van Panchayats as Unique Institutions

Despite officially conceding only 14 percent of the total forest cover of Uttarakhand to local self- governance, VPs evolved and matured, incorporating local customs and establishing appropriate forest management strategies (Sarin, 2001a). Notwithstanding the pervasive problems of corruption, waste, and negligence, VPs have been most successful where villagers have been diligent with their duties and ownership responsibilities were clearly understood (Gairola & Sreedhar, 1999). Areas where pre-existing traditions of community-led forest management, a unified and egalitarian social order, meaningful participation of women, and strong leadership have prevailed, have witnessed particularly successful panchayats (Cherail, Jain, & Shrivastava, 1994; Sharma & Sinha, 1993).

By 2001, official surveys indicated that 6777 VPs have been established covering about 5,242 square kilometres, or less than 10 percent of the total area (53,119 square kilometres) of modern-day Uttaranchal state, while over 87 percent remains under government jurisdiction (Kumar, 2003). Despite the many advantages of forming VPs, only a third of villages in Uttarakhand opted to implement them in the 70 years of their legislated existence (R. Agrawal, 1999). Fewer still adopted them in the heavily forested Garhwal region, with two-thirds of the van panchayat forests falling in the Kumaon region where the system was first initiated. Moreover, few VPs spread to the original districts of the Tehri Garhwal princely state (Tehri and Uttarkashi) while in Almora, Bageshwar, Pithoragarh, and Champawat districts, VPs have come to cover over a quarter of the forested lands. Hardwar and Udham Singh Nagar as plains districts forming the gateway to the adjoining hills, have had no tradition of active forest management (Kumar, 2003).

The obstacles facing VPs have sometimes been quite formidable, as VPs have often lacked the financial resources, enforcement mechanisms, and women’s participation necessary for engendering confidence in the system. Indeed, the bureaucratic maze under the dual control of the FD and

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Revenue Department (RD), where administrative decisions must be cleared with the RD and technical expertise sought from the FD, has hampered VPs, while discouraging the formation of others. However, despite their limitations, VP forests have been found to be in better shape vis-à-vis the reserved forests, even while serving local people’s needs (Sethi, 2001).

Moreover, this subordination to the RD and FD has not stopped these bureaucracies from attempting to reassert the control over the VP forests they once enjoyed (Cherail et al., 1994). Since British times, there has been a constant struggle with the authorities over rights to forest commons, and this has continued in the form of periodic movements against various Forest Acts that have sought to transfer decision-making powers into the hands of the government bureaucracies. Indeed, many folk songs have been penned in the region describing the classic conflict between the forest official and village woman who has tried to gather fuel or fodder from restricted forests. In the post- colonial era, the “colonial philosophy where all forests belong to the State” has continued to guide these bureaucracies. Meanwhile, both departments have earned a poor reputation for their ruinous record of corruption, negligence, high handedness, and alienation from local people.

Vestiges of Colonialism

While the role of the RD has changed little since the days of the Raj, representing, like many other Indian institutions, a relic of the colonial era, the FD has largely been informed by the 19th century philosophy of “scientific forestry”. Treating forests as a resource to be maximally and efficiently exploited, scientific forestry has remained influential for its apparent emphasis on progress and economic development. Indeed, the FD has staked much of its legitimacy on this exclusive claim to scientific expertise, even if that science has served economic interests at the expense of ecological sustainability (Gadgil & Guha, 1995). This tendency has been well represented by conservation goals that have been tailored to sustain a maximum yield of commercially viable products and not trees best suited for community needs or habitats for animals. In addition, the FD has maintained a very colonial structure as seen from the huge class difference between its officer corps and ordinary workers.

While originally dedicated to playing coordinating roles on behalf of the VPs, the RD and FD have increasingly neglected local governance structures. By the 1960s, this oversight was paradoxically accompanied by a multiplying number of interventions that grew more onerous, discouraging the further propagation of the VP system. In 1976, after years of meddling and with public concern rising over the health of the forests, reforms to the 1931 rules consolidated state jurisdiction over the VPs, subordinating their governance to the civil administration (Sethi, 2001). Existing councils were

York University 23 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat broken up into smaller, ecologically unrealistic fragments, an income cap of 40 percent introduced, and administrative control transferred to the district level bureaucracy (Sarin, 2001a). With a policy akin to “benign neglect”, the governmental bodies seemed to have systematically engineered a crisis in the VP system, paving the way for their eventual reabsorption into the FD’s jurisdiction (Cherail et al., 1994).

Likewise, the Forest Conservation Act of 1980, although prompted by rising worldwide environment concern over deforestation, was instead implemented to suit commercial and state needs, while restricting local usage. Although forest activists initially welcomed the creation of the Van Nigam (forest corporation), believing that a state-owned monopoly would extract timber produce much more responsibly than the old private contractor system, they soon realized that the government would become the biggest contractor, while illegal felling would continue (Mitra, 1993). Moreover, large projects like hydroelectric dams that affected the livelihoods of thousands while serving the needs of more affluent citizens would remain unaffected, while local employment generation projects would be impeded. So egregious was this denial of rights that a movement arose to fell trees in protest against the anti-people priorities of the state and central governments (Pathak, 1991). Led by members of the Uttarakhand Kranti Dal, the regional secessionist party, activists of the Ped Khato Andolan symbolically felled hundreds of trees all over Uttarakhand in the 1988-1989. Their actions proved to be a bitter counterpoint to the Chipko movement, which was usurped by the authorities to further hobble local usage while expanding state control of the forests.

Despite the 1976 reforms that severely crippled VP functioning, most panchayats survived despite operating under duress and with a shortage of funds. In the 1990s, the state government once again attempted to use the pretext of accountability and conservation to extend full FD control over the VPs, but was thwarted by popular opposition. Continued pressure in the form of the Uttarakhand separate state movement staved off further power grabs, yet upon the creation of the new state of Uttaranchal, the FD was ready to try again.

From Autonomy to Autocracy

What the FD and governmental bureaucracy could not accomplish in the 1990s, they steam rolled through in 2001. In 2000, when the new state came into being (Sethi, 2001), Uttarakhandis looked forward to the favourable dispensation that more localized decision-making processes would entail. However, the new state took as one of its first major policy steps the complete usurpation of local rights over forests, concentrating power over the forests at levels unseen in 70 years.

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Using the ambiguous mandate of the new government to marshal the resources of the region for economic development, the new rules vested total control over forest management in the new state’s Forest Department. Several years in the making, the 2001 rules required the filing of five-year plans with five annual micro plans each subject to the approval of the District Forest Officer and Forest Rangers. VP by-laws, once the purview of the VP in the 1931 rules, and amended to include the district commissioner in 1976, was also subject to approval by the district forest officer. Additionally, the FD was allocated a 10 percent surcharge on all sales of forest products, while the bulk of the earned money was handed over to the FD for accounting and management purposes. Civil society participation in a consultative role was also eliminated, leaving any consultation or monitoring at the discretion of the district magistrate (Sethi, 2001).

In many other areas, the 2001 rules severely restricted local participation and control over panchayat forests, yet such an authoritarian move could only diminish hope of public cooperation with the stated aims of the FD. Ironically, the FD assumed these new powers in hopes of implementing the World Bank-supported joint forest management (JFM) program that touted its potential for public participation in forest management and decentralization of powers to local level governance structures. In fact, the promise of JFM funds was used strategically to entice VP leaders to voluntarily cede their sovereignty of the forests to a far more rigid regime with the FD firmly in control. By centralizing governance in an institution long distrusted by the public, the government contradicted the expressed goals of people’s empowerment that JFM envisions (A. Agarwal, 1995).

Indeed, as witnessed in 1995 when forest fires raged in Uttarakhand, the complete apathy induced by the FD’s domineering attitude symbolized a muted protest against prevailing centralized forest policy (Martin & Dutta, 1995). Again in 1999, when fires consumed over 40,000 hectares, civic action was lacking. This time, villagers traded accusations with government officials over whether fires in FD administered reserved forests or panchayat forests were the cause (Ahmed, 1999). However what did become clear is that no aid was forthcoming from villagers to help the FD extinguish the fires, particularly for the commercial pine forests that burned quicker than their more socially and environmentally appropriate broadleaf counterparts. This burning resentment against the expropriation of local rights by the FD, even to the point of neglecting their own commons, was a troubling sign of the people’s deep enmity and distrust for the State.

More ominous is the claim cited by the fortnightly magazine Down to Earth (2001) that the whole reorganization of forest management has been driven by the government’s need for hard cash. Both in terms of procuring international loans for JFM and the FD’s seizing of VP assets, the

York University 25 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat bureaucracy’s machinations cannot be discounted, particularly when both Uttaranchal and its parent state Uttar Pradesh have been hovering close to defaulting on their massive debt load for years. Indeed, when questioned, the principal secretary of the new state of Uttaranchal was forthright, claiming that the government was “now the caretaker and the people must work with the FD.” This hard attitude towards those contesting the usurpation of their rights, contradicts the government’s much vaunted democratic credentials (Sethi, 2001) and hints at the full-scale exploitation of the state’s natural resources that may lay in the future as economic conditions worsen.

In the summer of 2001, Sainion Ka Sangathan, a small grassroots action group based in Nainital district held a meeting of VP representatives from all districts of Kumaon to discuss the impact of the new rules and JFM schemes on VPs (Sarin, 2001b). While few were aware of the exact rules due to poor communication on the part of the government, none were impressed with the state’s moves to strip VPs of their autonomy. In general the VP representatives felt that the new rules perpetuated the quintessential government view of people’s forests as an exploitable resource, as opposed to the fundamental basis for life and livelihood of human communities. Many VP representatives voiced the concern that the government’s monetized outlook would effectively undermine and destroy the social relationships at the root of traditional preservation efforts within the VP system. Others vehemently denounced the government’s moves to extend the FD’s powers by trampling on the rights of villagers who had gained their VPs through years of hard struggle (Sarin, 2001b). It was generally felt that the new rules represented a tightening noose of red tape, which placed onerous burdens on villages ill-equipped to jump through the FD’s bureaucratic hoops. Recent changes that fragmented existing VPs into smaller ineffectual and highly contentious councils consisting of individual revenue villages, seemed to confirm the general suspicions that the new rules were intentionally designed to dismantle the VPs and pave the way for JFM (Sarin, 2001b). The fact that 80 percent of JFM programs were implemented in areas already governed by VPs, rather than in the two-thirds of Uttarakhand villages that have no village forest joint management system, seemed to indicate that VPs were singled out for special treatment (Sethi, 2001).

JFM’s Potential for Good or Ill

The special tragedy of the FD’s assaults on the VP system is that JFM has met with some success elsewhere, involving local communities in the management of forests and providing incentives to work with the FD to preserve their diminished commons more efficiently (Saigal, 2001). In West Bengal, the FD reformed much of its erstwhile oppressive reputation, helping local communities form Forest Protection Committees (FPCs) to save their commons (Gadgil & Guha, 1995). Noting

York University 26 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat that Uttar Pradesh’s official bureaucracy is infamous for its corruption and venality as opposed to West Bengal where an ostensibly pro-people government has held power for over 25 years, may provide one reason to why the JFM program may have taken such a dramatically different turn in Uttaranchal.

In Madhya Pradesh, JFM has taken on far more sinister overtones, as recent atrocities visited on Adivasi (indigenous) forest dwellers by the state police in collusion with local JFM committees has belied the system’s benign image (Sarin, 2001a). In Madhya Pradesh like many other states where the FD’s writ runs large, efforts to regulate human usage of the forests has often involved the use of coercive violence and state-sponsored terror against the weakest and most vulnerable sections of society. Instead of involving people most intimately connected with their environment in the management of their ancestral lands, the FD seems to have followed up their historic disposition with more subtle methods of control through JFM programs implemented to divide the Adivasi communities and isolate their resistance (Sarin, 2001a).

The World Bank’s Role

In October 2002, the World Bank released a major revision to its ten-year old forest policy. The report took a major step towards acknowledging the role of local people in managing their own forest, repudiating the former assumption that the poor were implicated solely as a cause of forest destruction, as opposed to part of the solution. Furthermore, the revised policy adopted an assets definition of wealth and poverty in line with the emerging paradigm of sustainable livelihoods that is finding broad acceptance in the international development community (Sekhsaria, 2003).

However, despite recognizing that JFM efforts have been “dwarfed by investment in activities that may have damaging impacts on the forests” and that globalization has further disenfranchised the poor and exacerbated pressures on natural resources, the World Bank has continued to diagnose the problem in monetary terms and support structural adjustment policies that have caused massive environmental degradation (Higgins, 2000). By focusing only on issues of funding and revenue generation, the World Bank overlooked the social relations at the root of forest management and conservation (Sekhsaria, 2003). By backing the imposition of JFM instead of adapting and strengthening the existing VP system, the World Bank has continued to subscribe to a “one model fits all” approach that has contributed to many of its past failures (Sarin, 2001a).

Unfortunately, this process of reinventing the wheel dovetails with the desire of client countries to acquire new moneys to combat the conjured demon of deforestation as opposed to a real “pro-poor”

York University 27 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat restructuring of the state apparatus. This effectively mortgages the entire forest policy to the debt regime by which more resources are plundered to pay back international loans or to benefit local elites and powerful moneyed interests. The fact that these very transactions have been a major locus for embezzlement, petty theft, pilferage, and fraud, may have very well provided the incentive for those in authority to abide by World Bank conditions to the detriment of their fellow citizens. Meanwhile, World Bank conditions that went against state control such as recommendations to restore the financial independence of the VPs, was ignored and even contravened by the state’s new forest rules (Sarin, 2001a).

Rather than relying on international financing to foist yet another management experiment on hard pressed villagers, Pankaj Sekhsaria (2003) of the highly respected environmental action organization, Kalpavriksh, posits that much of the money-oriented discourse of the World Bank rests on false assumptions (Sekhsaria, 2003). The very indicators of poverty used by state agencies, largely influenced by economistic arguments of international financial institutions, are themselves questionable. Moreover, the continuing emphasis on market-based solutions and macro-level policy reforms, reveals how much the awkward alliance between neoliberalism and centralized development planning remains entrenched in World Bank philosophy. Rather, Sekhsaria overturns the commonly held notion of overwhelming poverty in rural areas, arguing rather for a more nuanced image of rural India, one that accords it dignity and recognizes its social richness. Highlighting the increasingly toxic environment of urban centres in India, he further claims that even by the state’s economic indicators, rural areas hardly lag behind the cities in both absolute poverty rates and livelihood opportunities. As such, Sekhsaria supports small-scale, locally derived frameworks that are attentive to people’s needs and encourage maximum participation and support.

Traditional Alternatives in Forest Management

Some of these localized solutions may include the oldest traditions of forest management that do not involve any monetary exchange or distribution of funds at all. Even before the British authorities acceded to the creation of VPs, Uttarakhandis had observed and maintained elaborate systems of forest management for centuries. An example that can be found in all corners of Uttarakhand is that of the “Lath” Panchayat, where a stick is vested with the authority of the community to protect the forests, and is rotated among the families of the village. Remarkably egalitarian in nature (although usually comprising of men only), the heads of every family would form the general decision-making body of the panchayat, while a smaller group of village elders serve as the executive that carries out its day-to-day functioning. Rules would be formulated by consensus where equal distribution of

York University 28 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat forest produce is enforced, fodder gathered under controlled conditions, and harvest levels decided collectively. As an oral tradition with an informal set of rules that changed according to prevailing conditions, the Lath Panchayat system rested on a set of strong social relations within a cohesive community (R. Agrawal, 2001).

The consecration of sacred groves has also been another time-honoured practice, dating back to ancient Hindu and Buddhist reverence for forests as temples for deep meditation and communion with nature and divinity. Indeed, dedicating forests to local deities for protection has been recently revived to good effect in villages such as Dharamgarh in Kumaon or has persisted since time immemorial as in Hariyali Devi in Chamoli district, demonstrating the continued potency of local mythology to thwart any encroachment that would interrupt the regenerative process (R. Agarwal, 2002). Like the Lath Panchayat, the setting aside of sacred groves in Dharamgarh was a non- monetary exercise, as the village relied entirely on cultural values and religious beliefs to enforce the community’s desire to protect its forest. However, most of the neighbouring villages have opted for the JFM regime to garner funds for employment and to resolve their own VP’s fiscal crisis. Even Dharamgarh has felt the lure of potential new funds, but has so far placed its faith in the Goddess. In the woods surrounding the temple of Hariyali Devi, a silent vigil has also been kept by devotees, preserving the high-altitude, biologically rich forest. Tradition has forbidden any disturbance to the tranquility of the area, either through loud sounds, harvesting of forest products, brightly coloured clothes, or even shoes within a 200-metre radius of the temple. Any violations are duly punished by forest spirits that stand watch over the sacred grounds (Panwar, 1996).

One locale that has applied local practices to revive its surrounding environment to spectacular effect is Jardhargaon in the Henwal valley of Tehri district (Chawii, 2001). Perhaps due to the proximity of both the Tehri dam and various mining interests, the Henwal valley emerged early as a hotspot of the Chipko movement. By the 1980s, these pressures and an increasing population combined to decimate the surrounding forests, particularly as the Forest Department’s restrictions had alienated the local population. In response, veteran Chipko activists in the area including Kunwar Prasun, Vijay Jardhari, and Dhoom Singh Negi petitioned the government to turn over management of the forests to the villages. Since then, the number of people’s committees managing all aspects of conservation has mushroomed, owing much to the model set by the unassuming Chipko activists who have had a major impact on the evolution of community institutions. Some of these organizations such as the women and youth groups have promoted civic engagement as the vital component of effective community-based resource management. Others such as the traditional Pani Panchayat or Village Water Council have been revived by this renewed focus on local institutions.

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The Van Suraksha Samitis or Forest Defence Committees in particular have played a key role in protecting and regenerating the forests despite operating without legal recognition or adequate resources for enforcement. Interestingly enough, the Samitis have chosen to continue developing their forest management model rather than cede their forests to the local Van Panchayat. Their hesitation is due largely to the success of their model that has seen the rejuvenation of hundreds of acres of woods above Jardhargaon bearing a diversity of tree species and wildlife (Malhotra, 2003).

While local institutions and practices have been revitalized in places like Jardhargaon, new uses for ancient customs have been ingeniously directed towards meeting modern ecological needs. The Maiti ritual, which involves the exchange of gifts between the groom and unmarried girls of the bride’s village, has been a traditional part of wedding ceremonies in Kumaon. Kalyan Singh Rawat, a school teacher as well as another Chipko veteran, modified this custom to involve the gifting of a sapling to the groom in exchange for a monetary contribution to underprivileged girls in the bride’s village. For the bride’s family, the tree would stand as a reminder of their daughter, and thus a virtual member of the family to be nurtured and cherished (Desai, 2002).

From Gwaldam on the Garhwal-Kumaon frontier in 1996, the Maiti movement has benefited from its seamless fit into popular traditions and has spread throughout Uttarakhand. Drawing upon this strong emotional content to plant and protect trees in both villages and urban centres, the movement has required virtually no resources beyond the expertise to establish tree nurseries. With its focus on women’s welfare, care has also been taken to plant saplings of fuel, fruit, and fodder providing trees that would benefit the bride’s village. Similarly, villages have begun to plant whole stands of trees as part of the Maiti ritual, recognizing its potential for renewing the commitment of communities to their forests.

The case of Urgam and Bharaki villages in Chamoli district represents a particularly successful example of a functioning VP that has adopted its own norms through the political empowerment of its women (R. Agrawal, 1999). Although the first VP sarpanches (council president) were men who had originally conceived of their participation in the VP program as a way to exploit the local forest, the local women’s group soon overthrew this leadership. They closed down a coal-making kiln that was consuming their trees as well as a timber smuggling ring that had cropped up in collusion with one of the sarpanches. Eventually, the women also gained control over the gram panchayat that governed the village and adjoining areas. The close cooperation between the two councils has not only empowered the women, but emboldened them to take on even more ambitious projects. The women of nearby Baccher village also overcame the corruption of their village leadership by seizing

York University 30 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat control of their van panchayat in a dramatic fashion, which will be detailed further in the next chapter (Kunwar, 1997).

Despite such attempts at reviving traditional forest management practices, creating new sensibilities out of old customs, and empowering the primary users of non-timber forest products, much of the indigenous knowledge is at risk of disappearing altogether under the pressures and logic of the existing money-based economic system. JFM in particular has been cited as a regime that could greatly benefit from indigenous knowledge often best preserved amongst the womenfolk of any particular locality. However, due to its tight purse strings, JFM regimes might find it difficult to adapt the special social relations at the core of traditional systems, particularly when they have been lost over time and no attempt has been made to recover them (Chawii, 2001).

Critics have also pointed out that JFM and many other modern state-sponsored forest management regimes have imposed a property rights model on preexisting systems based on collective ownership (B. Agarwal, 1997). Such a privatization of the commons potentially marginalizes already disadvantaged groups such as women or landless workers, while entrenching a feudal elite. It also tends to eliminate access to common lands that have hitherto been available to both landowners and tenant farmers alike in various degrees. Moreover, while JFM recognizes the need for community involvement, it still relies on the controversial claim that the forests belong to the government rather than the people, and that use of the forests is a privilege extended rather than an inalienable right. As such, it does little to remedy the abrogation of the customary rights that has been the main source of contention between the people and government for over a hundred years. On these grounds, women van panchayat leaders from villages as diverse as Lata (Chamoli district), Chakdalar (Nainital district), and Doodhatoli (Pauri district) have all expressed their strong opposition to the introduction of JFM as it would displace hard won gains that have been made purely through their efforts (R. Agrawal, 2002; Kapoor, 2000; Sethi, 2001).

Omnivores vs. Ecosystem People

The gulf between state agencies and local communities in regards to their divergent relationships with the environment underlies much of the decades-old conflict as illustrated by ongoing attempts of the FD to subvert and absorb the VPs. Although partly a function of their class backgrounds and urban vs. rural origins, their respective attitudes can be further ascribed to the level of dependency and proximity to their natural resource base. In this regard, Gadgil and Guha (1995) through their groundbreaking works on the “environmentalisms of the poor” offer a compelling conceptual

York University 31 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat framework to interpret Indian society and the divide between the State and people in Uttarakhand along ecological lines.

Gadgil and Guha claim that the State works on behalf of the omnivores in Indian society, those who engage in economic activity far removed from their natural resource base (Gadgil & Guha, 1995). As expropriators of surplus, omnivores consist of those citizens and economic interests whose relationship with the environment has been effectively obliterated. No longer earning their keep from the soil or the waters, this section of society consumes above and beyond what is ecologically sustainable, oblivious to the ramifications on ecosystem people, who depend on the environment for all aspects of their livelihoods. Although ecosystem people make up the vast majority of India’s population, they usually have little wealth in the classical economic sense, and thus little say in state- level decision-making processes. Living for the most part at a subsistence level, they find themselves at the receiving end of policies crafted to serve the omnivores during both the colonial and post- colonial eras. According to Gadgil and Guha, the State, which is usually staffed by officials drawn from the ranks of omnivores, inherently looks after the interests of their own class. Moreover, when planning for the long-term, omnivore rulers usually pass down the ecological costs to the poor in the form of conservation efforts that penalize them or dispossess them of their lands.

Both omnivores and ecosystem people and institutions exist in Uttarakhand. While most of the hinterland rural populations consist of ecosystem people dependent on the forests for their daily sustenance and the maintenance of their small farms, omnivores have generally held the political and economic reigns as witnessed in the successive forest policies of the colonial and post-colonial governments. The struggle over control of the forests between the neo-colonial FD and institutions such as the VPs, which were won by popular struggle, exemplifies this divide. The crude and indiscriminate attempts to impose supposedly participatory programs such as JFM from the top- down further reflect the State’s insensitivity to its own people. The largest planetary omnivores, which consist of international financial institutions like the World Bank, remain fundamentally conflicted throughout this process as the petty thuggery of client nations down the line reflects poorly on their ability to manage the overall economic system with their much vaunted impartiality and efficiency.

Meanwhile, more people have come to value indigenous knowledge and institutions that have evolved organically within Uttarakhand and throughout the developing world. People’s organizations have provided invaluable solidarity and support to local communities in their struggles with state authorities for the assertion of their most basic rights (Shackleton et al., 2002). Even the

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Ministry of Environment and Forests broached the issue of recognizing preexisting regimes of forest management such as VPs in 2000, although in typical government fashion, no protocols were proposed on how to harmonize JFM with traditional practices (Saigal, 2001). Recently, one of Uttaranchal state’s new forest conservators, in a bold departure from her predecessors, upheld the VP model in an international conference and repudiated the FD position of forced incorporation of VPs into the JFM framework. Instead, she proposed that the VPs should not only be given the power and autonomy to fulfill their potential, but that the model should be expanded to include more communities and more forest lands (Sitling & Devi, 2002). It remains to be seen whether this insight and awareness will find a place in the bureaucracy.

As such, the ongoing struggle over primary ownership and stewardship of forests between omnivores as represented by state agencies and the ecosystem people remains at the heart of the environmental crisis in India. The alienation between the people and their commons is a major source of ecological and social strife that has been exacerbated by the pernicious colonial mentality that still afflicts major governmental bureaucracies. Various amendments to forest policies in the post-independence era confirm this continuity, and in many cases, reveal the even more rapacious attitude of each successive new master, whether it be the state of India, Uttar Pradesh, or even Uttaranchal. However, hope lies in the increasing number of omnivores who are questioning the logic of this system and expressing sympathy with ecosystem people in their struggles at the margins of survival. Yet for the people of Uttarakhand and millions of others in India and across the world, these struggles look set to continue regardless of the State they are in.

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Timeline: Two Centuries in Uttarakhand’s Forests

For centuries, traditional forest management practices 1927 New Forest Act further entrenches the government’s hold sway in Uttarakhand. They combine with the powers. laisser-faire attitude of the local rajas towards their subjects to sustain Uttarakhand’s rich forest cover.

1803 The expansionist Gurkha Empire of 1930 “Tilari kand” incident in the rebellious Rawain pergana modern day Nepal conquers Kumaon and of Tehri state. The raja’s forces fire on a civilian crowd Garhwal. assembled in a large protest gathering on Yamuna’s banks. Killing dozens of men, women, and children, the 1815 Nepal cedes territories including massacre marks a turning point in forestry affairs. Uttarakhand to Britain at Treaty of Sagauli that ends the brief Anglo-Gurkha 1931 Van Panchayats (VP) initiated upon committee war. Britain retains control of Kumaon recommendations. Allocated approximately 14% of the and the eastern portion of Garhwal region’s total forest cover. (British Garhwal), while ceding the rest to the son of the Garhwal raja. 1948 Formal independence brings about few changes in colonial era forest policies, as Tehri Garhwal is merged 1823 First “Great Measurement” is taken of into the state of Uttar Pradesh along with British Uttarakhand’s forests. Sets the stage for Garhwal and Kumaon. future exploitation. 1962 India-China war closes the border between the two 1865 Forest Act accords British Raj a state countries, interrupting ancient trade routes, imperiling monopoly over India’s forests through the the livelihood of Bhotiya traders and herders. Lands Forest Department. near the border are expropriated by the military and new roads are built, penetrating hitherto remote areas. 1878 Forest Act eliminates all ancient customary rights to forests, which are 1973 Chipko agitation for local forest rights and against the converted into reserve and protected clear felling of trees begins and spreads throughout zones for colonial use. Uttarakhand.

1893 Himalayan “wastelands” are converted 1976 Reforms to VPs impose onerous burdens on local bodies into protected forests, further usurping by transferring fund management and supervisory traditional rights. Uprisings erupt in the capacity to the District Magistrate. form of periodic setting of fires to commercial pine forests. 1980 Forest Conservation Act puts certain protected forests out of reach of local residents, sparking renewed 1906 In Tehri state, several panchayats declare resentment. The replacement of the contractor system their autonomy in protest against forest with a state Forest Corporation leads to large-scale policies. The chief conservator is attacked, circumvention of laws by the timber mafia, while but the uprising gradually dies down. penalizing villagers.

1914 Clear felling accelerates as India heavily 1993 Uttar Pradesh state government attempts to revise 1976 subsidizes Britain’s war efforts with both laws to extend further FD control over the VPs, but men and materiel. withdraws bill after vocal opposition. State authorities continue to push for FD control, using pending funding 1916 Over 30% of forests lost to protest fires in from the World Bank to implement Joint Forest single largest conflagration of anti-colonial Management programs throughout the hills. uprising. 2000 Uttaranchal state formed after prolonged agitation, 1921 Large scale agitation against forced labour comprising the Uttarakhand Himalayas and two plains and forest policies leads to establishment districts. Residents look to state to finally return and of a committee looking into people’s guarantee their forest rights. grievances and ways to harmonize local subsistence with maintenance of public 2001 New VP Rules usurp power from the VP in favour of the order and protection of valuable new state’s FD. Protests are lodged with state authorities commercial forests. to no avail.

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Chapter III: Women Arising

Introduction

The process of women’s political empowerment in independent India has taken on many forms throughout the last three decades. Closely tied with political reforms at the centre, women have seen incremental improvements in both their representation and participation in the political life of the nation. Long overshadowed by larger-than-life figures such as Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, Indian women have asserted their dynamism at the grassroots level, and have achieved major gains in women’s rights through the path of political self-determination and good governance.

In Uttarakhand, the experience of the Chipko movement has become a traditional starting point for most studies of women’s empowerment processes. As an early grassroots environmental movement, Chipko quickly took on a gendered hue with the mass participation of women who inspired subsequent rural women’s movements across India. More importantly, this movement did not end, but continued mobilizing women over the next three decades, leading them to take on leadership roles in other social movements and participate extensively, if informally in Uttarakhand’s political life.

Uttarakhand has also been long noted for its unique gender ratio, where women outnumber men in rural districts. Due to the money order economy, which has continued to send boys and men away to the plains in search of work, this distinct aspect of hill communities has interested scholars for decades. In terms of empowerment, this favourable ratio has been a double-edged sword. While more attention has been focused on the role of women in management of villages, it has also meant that women have continued to play a backbreaking role in maintaining the local agricultural subsistence economy with little time for extraneous activities. However, through social and political organizing, the women of Uttarakhand have begun to assert their rights as leaders of their communities.

This chapter will thus emphasize the story of empowerment from this socio-political perspective. Although the ecological and economic dimensions of women’s lives are still central, social and political issues arising from these have not been as extensively discussed and would greatly benefit from focused attention. Indeed, the singular focus on women and the environment in past studies of Chipko have been criticized for marginalizing women’s voices in other arenas where they have been active participants (Mehta, 1991). Moreover, while the role of women in Chipko has been

York University 35 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat thoroughly documented, the diverse movements and institutions it inspired have not been as comprehensively studied. The richness of these experiences in both the ecological context and political context has thus made Uttarakhand an ideal location to study women’s political empowerment, particularly in relation to the major institutional changes to India’s polity introduced to facilitate the participation of women. This chapter will thus attempt to provide an overview of recent and contemporary struggles for emancipation, empowerment, and self-realization through an examination of women’s self-help groups, panchayati raj institutions, and even state and national level electoral politics.

From the Grassroots: the Mahila Mangal Dals

Indian women gained universal suffrage upon independence, yet for the vast majority, opportunities to participate in decisions affecting their lives remained elusive, particularly in rural areas. As such, soon after formal independence, the importance of women’s involvement in development processes was identified. In 1952, the Indian government proposed the formation of women’s groups or Mahila Mandals as part of its Community Development Program. Throughout the 1950s, women’s groups were proposed and formed throughout the country, although most lapsed and became moribund without further government support.

In the Uttarakhand Himalayas, Gandhian activists began organizing women’s self-help groups or Mahila Mangal Dals (MMDs) against alcoholism as the chief social ill of their time. Initially trained by Sarala Behn, a western woman disciple of Gandhi, the Sarvodaya workers organized themselves in 1961 into the Uttarakhand Sarvodaya Mandal that included Chandi Prasad Bhatt, Sunderlal Bahuguna, and several other prominent male Chipko activists. Amongst their first efforts were agitations for prohibition during the 1960s, a campaign that continues to animate many MMDs to this day. This experience spilled over into mass participation in the Chipko movement where MMDs gained widespread recognition for providing Chipko an organizational base and identity as primarily a rural women’s movement. This was true both in Chamoli and Tehri districts where much of the sustained work in the years following the major Chipko actions of the 1970s was committed to MMD formation. In fact, MMDs and Chipko became so tightly linked in certain localities that the state acceded significant control over forest protection and conservation measures to the local MMDs. Many van panchayats in particular came under women’s control for the first time leading to a regeneration of these aging institutions of management and conservation (Sharma, 1992).

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Seeing their success at organizing Himalayan women, Indira Gandhi and later Rajiv Gandhi gave Mahila Mandals another boost during their regimes. In conjunction with increasing gender awareness at the global level, these women’s groups were seen as the principal conduits for enacting local level social change and administering small-scale income generation projects. This recognition came in large part through the exertions of MMDs established in the wake of Chipko. In 1984, Indira Gandhi honoured several MMDs including one from Baccher village in Chamoli district for their successful efforts to protect both community and government forests, as well as bring tangible improvements to the life of the community (Sharma, 2001). In 1986, the National Wastelands Development Board also recognized the efforts of MMDs from 30-odd villages in Chamoli including Bachher. Despite these acknowledgements, Baccher had to continue battling governmental indifference, corruption, and even collaboration with the timber mafia, sometimes with peaceful direct actions that have put the women in harm’s way.

Women’s groups such as those in Baccher have in effect carried on the legacy of Chipko that despite a lack of education and opposition from conservative elements, have become increasingly assertive in their struggles (Kunwar, 2001). Indeed, Chandi Prasad Bhatt’s organization initiated many of these MMDs in Chamoli district as part of its campaign to mobilize women around livelihood issues. The MMDs have subsequently provided a base for further participation of women in various campaigns involving combating social ills, improving maternal health, providing social solidarity, and raising the status of women in the village.

In the neighbouring Doodhatoli range of Pauri district, the local MMDs have likewise played an exemplary role in regreening a highly stressed and eroded watershed. Once known as the “milk bowl” of Garhwal for its abundance of cattle, the sight from Doodhatoli mountain offered an unspoiled view of the Greater Himalayan ranges. However, starting in the 1950s, the region was ravaged by industrial development that that had reduced the once lovely landscape into a rapidly desertifying waste. For the villages surrounding Doodhatoli, the environmental devastation proved to be a social and economic tragedy as well. For women in particular who formed the backbone of the rural economy, the resulting water and foliage scarcity meant longer work days and falling milk production (Chadha, 1999). Economic hardship had also accelerated the traditional out migration of men to the plains in search of gainful employment, leaving even more agricultural work to the women.

Mobilized by the local NGO Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan, women began working to ameliorate their situation in the immediate post-Chipko period. Indeed within twenty years of taking over

York University 37 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat management of the village forests from elected van panchayats that remained in the hands of the local patriarchy, women’s groups were able to accomplish what the official institutions could not (Kapoor, 2000). The MMD leaders credited their success to the flexibility and autonomy afforded by their unofficial status and the group’s local accountability to the main users of the forest, village women. Due to this, they were able to accord a higher priority to creating a sustainable source of fuel and fodder, as opposed to the more market-oriented aims of both the forest department and van panchayats. Moreover, by operating independently of any fiscal constraints and thus administrative control of the government, they were able to evolve a truly people-first reforestation policy. In addition, rather than relying on hired enforcement, they were able to rotate the watch over the forest among the members of the group.

Unfortunately, resource management and conservation work occupied so much of the MMD’s time, that they were unable to tackle other vital women’s issues such has ill health and harmful social practices. The success of the reforestation also led to an increase in household fortunes that ironically led to a commensurate increase in time spent feeding and caring for additional animals (Kapoor, 2000). As such, the women of the Doodhatoli range became victims of their own success, and thus in need of further cooperation from both their menfolk and the government. While the women have succeeded on their own, the active participation of the men would go a long way to alleviating some of their drudgery. Likewise, recognition by the government would confer a level of legitimacy that would shield their work from undue interference.

The women’s group of Chakladar village in Nainital district identified similar issues when they engaged in a participatory rural appraisal process. Chakladar had witnessed a steep decline in the health of their traditional community forest in a short ten-year period. As in Doodhatoli and countless other villages across Uttarakhand, the falling availability of fuel and fodder was dramatically increasing the workdays of women farmers, making already arduous lives even more difficult. In addition, the women also identified alcoholism among their menfolk as a seemingly intractable source of sadness and domestic strife (R. Agrawal, 2002).

At first, the MMD had to overcome a general lack of support among their men for their tough conservation plan. The temporarily strict restrictions as well as vigorous enforcement mechanism proposed by the women elicited resistance as well as resentment among many villagers. However, one year of the women’s tenacious personal vigilance over the forest yielded a significant recovery of biodiversity and biomass. This achievement had also won over much of the established village leadership as well gained the Forest Department’s belated support. Most striking has been the

York University 38 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat profound sense of empowerment gained by the women for their successful management of village resources. Despite their continuing personal hardship and limited financial resources for the functioning of their projects, the women have not been deterred from realizing their full potential. This has led them to demand a greater say in village governance as well as challenge the social status quo that has long paid little regard to their rights and needs.

Displacing Women Again

However, as previously mentioned, the state government has attempted to supplant such arrangements with World Bank-funded joint forest management regimes. This latest attempt to impose a “solution in search of a problem” has rankled local women such as those in Doodhatoli and Chakladar who have played a leading role in evolving their own indigenous system of forest management (R. Agrawal, 2002; Kapoor, 2000). Although JFM programs have encountered documented success in other parts of India, they have not prioritized women’s participation and have even displaced women from their traditional management roles. Moreover, this habit of layering new institutions upon preexisting arrangements to gain access to international development funds has been debilitating to local village groups who had only recently witnessed a rebirth of their potential through grassroots action. In this case, their implementation would most probably disempower women and rebureaucratize the forest management regime (Kapoor, 2000).

As such, NGOs with strong women’s wings such as the Himalayan Action Research Centre have focused recently on convincing Indian authorities to issue legal recognition to village level women’s groups such as the Mandals (Kunwar, 1999). Without such recognition, much of the embedded traditional knowledge and practical experiences of women will continue to be overlooked by policy planners at both local and international levels. Unlike official notification, which would have subordinated these groups to government authority, legal status would protect these grassroots organizations and their resources from undue state interference. It would also recognize their autonomy and authority in their areas of influence.

Social Limitations of MMDs

While MMDs in Uttarakhand and Mahila Mandals in the rest of India and have played a preeminent role in various rural women’s movements throughout the years, they have not entirely escaped from nor overcome some of the chronic social ills embedded in the social structure of villages. In Uttarakhand, rural women have seen little respite from their unremitting toil that has grown heavier in recent decades with the expansion of the money-order economy and the

York University 39 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat degradation of their natural resources. Working an average of sixteen hours a day, women have remained at the centre of the hill agricultural economy even as most of the menfolk have migrated away to the plains in search of waged work (Pande, 1996). Indeed, the functioning of the MMDs have only added to their immediate workload, with the benefits of healthy forests, increased savings, and pooled resources only accruing over time. Indeed, what is remarkable is that many women have chosen to take on this onerous triple day of labour as farmer, householder, and committee member, seeing empowerment as a desirable enough incentive to overcome short-term hardship. However as a result, many MMDs have lapsed without strong leadership and organization, as the adversity of daily life has proven too difficult to overcome.

MMDs have also had to contend with hostile forces within the villages themselves. Indeed, even the heroines of Chipko have not escaped unscathed from attempts to subvert MMDs. In 1986, Gaura Devi of Reni village in Chamoli district lost her position as president of her MMD due to the circulation of unfounded rumours about her keeping all the Chipko prize money she received in 1986 for herself (Down to Earth, 1993). Sudesha Devi, a veteran activist from Rampur in Tehri Garhwal district, also lost her position when the sarpanches of surrounding villages turned members of her MMD against her when she accused them of corruption (Dhanraj, 1983). In Dungri Paintoli, another Chipko hotspot, women activists led by Gayatri Devi were likewise slandered and vilified by the panchayat after they successfully protested against the cutting of their local forest in 1980 (Jain, 1985). In these cases, idle village gossip stemming from petty jealousies were used to discredit prominent movement activists and, in general, demobilize women of the village from pursuing social change. However for Bachni Devi, the heroine of Adwani forest in Henwal Valley, these troubles did not prevent her from joining and leading the struggle, despite the fact that her own husband was the principle contractor involved in the drama (Shiva, 1988).

Beyond such power plays between village factions and personalities, differences in class and caste within women’s groups themselves have also impacted the priorities of MMDs. In one study conducted in the neighbouring state of Himachal Pradesh, the role of women in local agricultural systems varied according to the centrality of forest resources to their lives, which differed in turn according to caste. This presented a more nuanced definition of poverty in the rural context, one that weighed how different village subgroups claimed access to common property resources and prioritized women’s issues (Davidson-Hunt, 1995).

Villages in Himachal Pradesh, like Uttarakhand, are stratified into two main caste groupings. While upper castes have largely carried out agricultural activities, the lower castes have traditionally

York University 40 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat performed various services for the community. As the traditional economy focused primarily agricultural production, the largely Rajput families have formed the focal point of land ownership, governance, and power in villages. As a result, the scheduled castes have remained peripheral both in land tenureship and village politics and their livelihood activities oriented towards the wage economy.

As informal village organizations, the concerns of Rajput women have traditionally dominated the official village MMDs. Indeed, so pervasive has been their influence that in development literature, the upper caste woman farmer has come to personify all hill people. Ironically, the environmental orientation of mandals’ priorities can be traced to the high castes’ dependence on common property resources, while low caste women have traditionally held little land, but have engaged in waged labour as service providers to the rest of the community (Davidson-Hunt, 1995). As the MMDs in the Doodhatoli range demonstrated, important women’s problems beyond the provision of fuel and fodder for village women engaged in subsistence agriculture could not be taken up due to the all- consuming focus on forest issues (Kapoor, 2000). However, it is these same issues that have led to documented conflicts been conservation-minded, but upper caste-dominated MMDs and lower caste labourers who have continued to fell trees (Sharma, 1992).

Fundamentally, MMDs have also remained limited by their lack of funds and political power. Although they were able to take up significant resource management tasks, they could not easily grow beyond their parochial concerns to larger, community-wide matters due to these fiscal and socio-political constraints. As such, while the MMDs proved that organized women’s groups could bring about large-scale beneficial change to village life, it would be through reforms to the panchayati raj institutions (PRIs) as official instruments of governance and representation that women would achieve real political power on par with men at the local level.

The Return of Panchayati Raj

Panchayats as five member village councils have existed in India since time immemorial. For these ancient bedrock governance units of Indian civilization, an early British governor coined the quaint term, “little republics”. Mahatma Gandhi would later apply this metaphor to his vision of India or Bharat as a free association of village republics. However, the framers of India’s constitution denigrated panchayats as strongholds of feudalism and castism. Their powers were thus continuously usurped by centrally-administered rural development schemes, even as they were reconstituted to serve as representative bodies at the local level.

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In 1992, two key reforms to the India Constitution contained in the 73rd and 74th Amendments finally recognized rural (panchayats) elected bodies as “institutions of self-government” (Mathew, 2003). While this sorted out the modalities for the devolution of powers, a more revolutionary aspect of the amendments embraced an advanced reservation policy for women and other disadvantaged groups. In partial fulfillment of the landmark 1976 Committee on the Status of Women in India report, Towards Equality, the amendments incorporated a 33 percent quota for elected bodies at the grassroots level (Rai, 1998). This reservation was implemented alongside similar quotas for scheduled castes and tribes that sought to rectify some of the imbalances in more informal village institutions like the Mahila Mandals and was quickly adopted by all states in their own Panchayati Raj Acts.

As a result of these monumental recommendations, over a million women entered formal politics for the first time in elections throughout the 1990s. Moreover, in the short time that women panchayat leaders have operated effectively, several trends have been noticed in their performance by several social commentators:

• Higher rates of savings and less squandering of public funds.

• Greater financial accountability and fiscal prudence.

• Development priorities favorable towards the community as a whole.

• More interest in fighting social ills such as liquor abuse.

• Higher priority for social initiatives in education, health, water, food security.

• Speedy conflict resolution leading to a diminished need to resort to the courts where litigation tends to drag on for years.

• Due to personal experience with deprivation and poverty, women panchayat leaders have been more sympathetic to the plight of impoverished community members.

• More approachable style on the part of the pradhan (village head) allowing the discussion and resolution of more intimate matters (Dogra, 2003; Mathew, 2003).

Some such trends were confirmed by an exhaustive study conducted by the Women’s Studies Centre at Delhi University. The study attributed the significant decline in corruption at the local level specifically to the advent of women pradhans. However, Susheela Kaushik (2000), the author of the report, clarified that rather than constituting some essentialist attitude towards corruption, women leaders tended to work within legal norms and steer clear of corruption due to the inherent fragility of their power. As men were able to access power in other arenas, women treated their newly appointed duties seriously (Dev Raj, 2000).

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Moreover, women panchayat members and leaders have continued to face a series of challenges to their authority, mostly rooted in opposition from the local patriarchy, hostility of bureaucracies, shadowy machinations of vested interests, and the usual pressures to one’s elected position for personal or familial benefit. Indeed, women panchayat leaders have been strongest where NGOs and people’s movements have been actively supporting their efforts, and weakest where rigid caste hierarchies, conservative social relations, and police repression have long dominated local politics (Vyasalu & Vyasalu, 2000). Where lower caste or “dalit” women have contested elections or assumed leadership positions, reactions have been most extreme. Instances of violent intimidation, non-cooperation, and harassment by authorities have all been noted (Mathew, 2003). While a few women have been able to overcome these forces and inspire other dalit women as a result, many more have been silenced or forced to abandon their democratic rights.

In Uttarakhand, the resurgent Mahila Mangal Dals directly contributed to the wide scale enthusiasm for Panchayati Raj. Even before the constitutional amendments were passed, many MMDs were asserting ever greater powers in regards to village resources. Prompted by the organizing campaigns of Chipko activists, MMDs began taking over van panchayats in Chamoli district before moving onto the general gram (village) panchayats. In the case of Baccher village, the women went so far as to replace the existing corrupt male sarpanch who was disrupting their work with a leader drawn from their ranks (Sharma, 2001). Furthermore, the rest of the male panchayat members also resigned, leading to the first ever panchayat in Garhwal headed by and constituted solely of women (Kunwar, 1997).

Women in the hills have also had a strong ally in the Panchayati Rule and Gender Awareness Training Institute (PRAGATI) that has spearheaded efforts in the new state to ensure equitable and effective governance on the part of women panchayat leaders. As an UNDP-funded offshoot of the renowned human rights NGO Rural Litigation and Entitlement Kendra (RLEK), PRAGATI has been central in organizing various open fora that brought together local women representatives from all over the state. Moreover, PRAGATI has provided the organizing space to tackle “existing inequalities and problems that women face at large in their villages and to design women’s agenda for development, in largely male dominated public space.” (PRAGATI, 2003a).

PRAGATI’s influence as a nodal point for training, capacity building, and alliance formation has been keenly felt by the rising assertiveness of women panchayati leaders in Uttarakhand. State politicians have hurried to address their open gatherings. The government’s own self-serving tinkering with the new Panchayati Raj Act has been stymied by these women who have kept a

York University 43 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat careful watch over the bureaucracy’s repeated attempts to reassert their control over village resources and subvert powers away from the PRIs. In a series of declarations since the formation of Uttarakhand state, large gatherings of elected women office holders have demanded that the new state honour its obligations under the 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendments, devolve all requisite powers from the various ministries to the village level, stop the interference of local patriarchal elites in the affairs of the women-governed panchayats, and uphold the status of panchayati leaders (PRAGATI, 2003b). In fact, it is these women leaders who have reinvigorated the PRIs and have become their strongest proponents, in keeping with their unique strength in rural Uttarakhand where they form the backbone of the economy and dominate numerically.

The women leaders have also demanded that the state create and maintain conditions conducive towards women exercising their franchise and standing for elected office. Corruption and political violence have tended in this past to push women and other disadvantaged groups out of politics. This has been especially true at the local level, where muscle and money power have dominated and feuds have been particularly personal and bloody (Mathew, 2003). The role of moneyed interests and the liquor mafia, long the bane of women’s organizations in Uttarakhand, has dampened enthusiasm for assuming leadership positions (Dogra, 2003). As such, a secure climate without threat of intimidation or corrupt practices has been sought as a prerequisite for free and fair elections as well as for a successful term of office.

Furthermore, Vyasalu and Vyasalu (2000) in writing for the UNDP have warned that enhanced political representation should not be taken as a panacea for social injustices and inequalities. In their 2000 report, Women and Panchayati Raj, the Indian social scientists reviewed the assorted dilemmas confronting implementation of the Panchayat quotas under the 73rd Amendment in different Indian states. While they found the record uneven with some states lagging behind others in devolving powers to the elected bodies, the authoritarian outlook of state bureaucracies and their jealous guarding of development programs generally diminished the potential of the PRIs (Vyasalu & Vyasalu, 2000). In some states like Karnataka where a quota for women preexisted the constitutionally mandated numbers, the state-panchayat relation had advanced significantly with training and services provided through state agencies to the locally-elected representatives. However, social divisions in the form of endemic castism and the common practice of elite men ruling by proxy through their womenfolk continued to erode these gains. Moreover, the state’s attempt to impose quotas often failed to change the underlying social inequalities, rendering the panchayats deeply divided and leaving their underprivileged members in untenable positions to govern.

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Nonetheless, the report’s authors also recognized how vital the mass entry of women into the panchayat system has been for providing a fertile ground for the training of new grassroots women leaders (Vyasalu & Vyasalu, 2000). Where disempowerment and passivity once prevailed, mandated participation has brought politics to the doorsteps of every village household, opening a whole new window of possibilities to women who may have never before considered themselves community leaders. However, in a cautionary note, a 2003 study conducted in Chamoli and Tehri districts by University found that 95 percent of women including panchayat members and leaders were not aware of the constitutional amendments that had granted them a 33 percent reservation policy in local bodies. As in Karnataka, the survey also confirmed anecdotal evidence that husbands (‘Pradhan Patis’) were often governing on behalf of their wives who were usually too busy in the field to tend to their official duties. Such statistics reveal that despite certain pockets of progress, the general state of affairs has remained dismal for women’s political empowerment so long as the vast majority of household work continues to fall on their shoulders (Kunduri, 2004).

The Great Game: Politics at the National Level

As the 33 percent quota made waves in the PRIs throughout the 1990s, the Indian women’s movement also came to grapple with a similar reservation initiative for the Indian parliament. However, when the Women’s Reservation Bill repeatedly surfaced for debate in the Lok Sabha, it was shelved by a succession of national governments from the Congress to the United Front and finally the BJP-led government. Despite enjoying widespread support among the major parties, there has not been enough unanimous support to overcome the significant male opposition mounted from within the parties themselves. The political parties’ inability to develop significant female leadership, complex caste-based electoral calculations, and simple male fears of losing the perks of office further diminished the odds of the bill’s passage.

As the reservation bill encountered major obstacles, the Chief Election Commission and several prominent pro-democracy NGOs including the esteemed women’s publication Manushi, proposed an alternative bill where the parties themselves would nominate the requisite number of women candidates, as opposed to reserving and rotating the specific gender requirements of seats every election (Kishwar, 2003). Supported by smaller parties, this model would overcome the dislocating aspect of the original reservation bill and allay some of the chief objections to it. However, this alternative has so far failed to acquire even the support of the original bill and has only found a faint echo in the election platforms of various parties jockeying for the women’s vote. Moreover, voluntary measures in this regard have thus far failed miserably to increase the female candidate

York University 45 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat pool of any significant political party, holding out little hope that such a looser obligation would carry much weight during the high tension drama of the distribution of tickets.

Ironically, South and Southeast Asia have had no dearth of women leaders at the national level. Indira Gandhi, Benazir Bhutto, Sheikh Hasina, Khaleda Zia, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, Chandrika Kumaratunga, Aung San Suu Kyi, Megawati Sukarnoputri, Corazon Aquino, and Gloria Arroyo have all been elected through the ballot box to the top posts of their respective nations (Aung San Suu Kyi won the Burmese elections in 1991, but has subsequently been held in continuous house arrest). However in every case, these intriguing personalities were daughters and wives of former leaders and scions of politically prominent families. In Sonia Gandhi’s case, her status as daughter- in-law of Indira Gandhi was transferred to India itself, as the electorate perceived a profound sense of familial duty in her many difficult trials.

At the sub-national level, India has seen at least two powerful women chief ministers — Mayawati of Uttar Pradesh and Jayalalitha of Tamil Nadu, both of who go by their first name. One a dalit firebrand and the other a wildly popular movie star, both have been in and out of power throughout the 1990s. Both are controversial figures, using the power of their office to reward friends, punish and harass enemies, and carry out both their political and personal agendas. They have been adept at managing an ever shifting array of alliances while falling back on their personalities and identities to solidify their core support base. In their basic objectives, the two widely diverge — Mayawati representing the rising power of the dalit electorate and Jayalalitha one of most overwrought personality cults in the world — however in governance styles, both their tenures have closely followed Indira Gandhi’s dictatorial example.

In these respects, most of the few women who have achieved political prominence have been experts in the often rough and tumble world of electoral politics in South and Southeast Asia. The dynastic aspect of their ascension cannot be underestimated, as very few women from the poorer sectors have risen to the same prominence (although a similar case can be made for men from political families). Due to their elite origins except perhaps in the case of Mayawati, these women have thus far failed to represent the interests of ordinary women or given voice to their unique concerns (Calman, 1992). However, a few like Sheila Dikshit of Delhi have proven themselves able administrators, a quality that echoes some of the attributes of women panchayat leaders.

Adding to this complexity has been the emergence of prominent conservative women politicians including two chief ministers who stormed to power in the 2003 state elections, further dividing the women’s movement along ideological lines. Beyond being powerful women in the BJP, Vasundhara

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Raje, scion of the royal Scindia family, focused on recruiting a large number of women candidates for the BJP in Rajasthan, while Uma Bharti, a hardline Hindu nun, campaigned largely on her status as an OBC (“other backward castes” which rank below the upper castes in the caste hierarchy) to appeal to the vast impoverished population of Madhya Pradesh. Both have also credited their underdog status as women politicians for their convincing victories. However, it remains to be seen whether their tenures as chief ministers of states that rank amongst the worst in terms of women’s education and development, will make major breakthroughs for the status of women. Given their predilection for defending tradition and conservative interpretations of the roles of women, the outlook for broad-based social change is far from optimistic.

Despite some such prominent successes at the top levels, women have lagged far behind as sitting members of parliament and state assemblies, hence the repeated attempts to introduce the Women’s Reservation Bill. Recently, the Delhi-based Center for Social Research reported that overall representation in the Indian parliament has remained below 10 percent since 1972, seeing only a modest increase in the last two election cycles. Compared to other regions of the world, only the Arab states had a lower percentage of women in their governing councils and assemblies, although the percentage of women in the US Congress only exceeded 10 percent in 1997 (CAWP, 2003; Singh, 2003).

Moreover, the disinterest shown by parties has led to the penchant of running women candidates in constituencies of low interest so as not to “waste” men in losing contests. This has even been true of the parties most keenly supportive of the reservation bill, let alone the alternative bill, which this practice would easily defeat. The number of women selected in national governments for cabinet level postings has also proved exceedingly dismal, illustrating that politics at highest levels has remained firmly the province of the ruling patriarchy (Rai, 1998). And although, Sonia Gandhi has proved exceptional in this case, taking a keen interest in promoting women membership and leadership within the Indian National Congress, her own first government in 2004 saw few female faces on the front benches as ministers.

All Politics are Local

Perhaps surprisingly, Uttarakhand has not broken from this negative trend. As in Chipko, women participated in vast numbers in the separate state movement of the 1990s that culminated in the birth of Uttaranchal state in 2000. Furthermore, women from all social classes and regions formed the backbone of the struggle, filling the streets to press their demands, even as they suffered some of the worst police brutality. By some estimates, their participation surpassed the eighty percent level, even

York University 47 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat while men continued to dominate the more prominent roles of spokesmen and negotiators for the movement. As witnessed by the recent state assembly elections, this dominant position did not translate into political ascendancy, as the old male elites represented by the Congress and BJP returned to power as legislators of the new state.

The regional party, Uttarakhand Kranti Dal (UKD), did initially attempt to mobilize women around its platform of a 50 percent reservation policy for women in the state assembly. However, in the distribution of its tickets, it failed to achieve even a 10 percent ratio of women candidates, a fiasco that hurt its image as a political alternative despite the Congress and BJP also fairing as poorly. Moreover, as the first ever state assembly elections approached, the vote polarized between the Congress and BJP, with women voters giving the Congress Party a slight edge due to the women- friendly policies of Sonia Gandhi who campaigned personally in the 2002 elections. Indeed, at one rally of 20,000 people in Pauri district, Gandhi went out of her way to woo women voters with promises of free education, job reservations, and development funds for women (Kazmi, 2002). The final vote resulted in a slim majority for Congress, with the UKD failing to make a substantial mark and move beyond its position as a minor third party.

The Uttarakhand Mahila Manch (UMM) or Uttarakhand Women’s Forum, the preeminent political front of women in the separate state movement and long time affiliate of the UKD was critical of its ally for the lack of women candidates. Given the massive involvement of women in the separate state movement, this political disenfranchisement at the cusp of power was all the more galling as it seemed to echo past experiences with movements that relegated women to the background once their objectives were achieved (Jena, 2004). With female majorities prevailing in 16 of the 70 state assembly constituencies, the mainline political parties also had little excuse for not projecting more women candidates. Yet as in the Chipko, anti-Tehri dam, and various anti-mining struggles, the sacrifices of women activists were submerged once again to the vested interests of male politicians and the conservative status quo. However, the UMM itself was divided, with women political leaders in the state actively campaigning for both the BJP and Congress, in addition to the smaller third parties.

Beyond the intractable problem of representation and exigencies of electoral politics, the UMM has focused much of its energies on moving the state capital to the interior hamlet of Gairsain. Dehradun, the current interim capital and Uttarakhand’s largest city, has long been a stronghold of male and market power in the region. Considered too distant from the problems afflicting hill villages where the concerns of women are paramount, Dehradun resembles neighbouring cities in

York University 48 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat the plains more so than the hill villages of the Central Himalayas. As an urban centre, it also reflects the unique aspect of Uttarakhand’s demographics where men dominate the cities while women prevail numerically in rural areas (Bhattacharya, 2002). As such, Gairsain, which lies in the geographic centre of the state, has come to constitute both a physical and psychological centre for the UMM, echoing the feelings of the women panchayat leaders who see in Garsain a small village much like their own. Dehradun’s big city culture and plains-oriented economy, has been found to be just as alien to the experiences of village women as the old capital of Lucknow used to be.

Unfortunately, fears of Dehradun casting a long shadow over development policy in the state have proven very real, as demonstrated by the state government’s isolation, unresponsive bureaucracies, and pitiable neglect of PRIs and local resource management issues during the first three years of its existence. In addition, rather than focusing on local development and basic needs, both the BJP and Congress regimes have pursued an industrial development model heavily slanted towards natural resource exploitation, hydroelectric power generation, and large scale tourism, all of which cater to the urban elite. Not only have these “investor-friendly” policies been criticized for favouring big industrialists over local entrepreneurs, but they have also failed to take into account the potential environmental impacts that would burden local people the most (Yadav, 2003). The state government has also repeatedly delayed the adoption of a new Uttaranchal Panchayati Raj Act slated to replace the outdated and bureaucratic Uttar Pradesh legislation, leading to a feeling of disempowerment in the local bodies (The Hindu, 2004).

In response, women are actively pursuing other avenues of political empowerment as witnessed by the UMM’s strategic emphasis on the structure of the state’s governance. In this regard, the UMM has continued periodic rallies that have drawn tens of thousands of women from throughout the state to renew the call for Gairsain. Despite Dehradun itself electing a female mayor as part of the reservation rotation of the 2003 local body elections, Gairsain has remained a focal point of women’s assertion for a new mode of grassroots governance. Although largely a parochial concern, the UMM understands that a humbler government closer to the people in Gairsain would benefit the women of Uttarakhand whose strength and identity abides in the rural villages. The UMM has also continued its campaign against liquor as panchayat leaders, on their own or with the aid from various NGOs, have attempted to a meet their day-to-day needs of fuel, fodder, drinking water, electricity, health care, and basic infrastructure, while lobbying the government to respect their hard- won rights. In fact, it can be argued that the fate of the state rests with those that have been able to wrest political power through the PRIs and demonstrate significant interest in locally accountable governance and decentralized development.

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Uniting against Patriarchy

Women thus seem intent on revitalizing democracy in the state and bringing it closer to its people by all available means. Moreover, by proving themselves able leaders and administrators, it may be only a matter of time before women begin making major inroads into the bastions of male privilege that have lost both legitimacy and credibility due to poor performance and excessive corruption. Thus it is possible that by changing the face and practice of politics at the local level, the quiet panchayati revolution will reach the state and national levels, thus overturning a moribund patriarchal order that continues to paralyze the people of India’s vast potential. However, much of this depends on effectively implementing and enforcing the hard won constitutional guarantees that have only just begin to open up the possibilities of self-determination and self-rule at the community level.

For the women of Uttarakhand, an effective political movement would necessarily imply expanding women’s welfare programs beyond their immediate subsistence needs. While many NGOs and MMDs continue to focus on health, education, conservation, income generation, and resource management, hill women are demonstrating their keen desire to participate in the political process through their exertions in the PRIs. Similarly, the anti-liquor movement echoes other campaigns for social reform such as combatting castism at the village level and the trafficking of women and girl children of low-caste Kholtas in the Jaunsar Bawar and Rawain regions of Western Uttarakhand that cannot move forward without sustained support for the struggles of disadvantaged groups (Prasun & Kainthola, 2002). In some areas, women are confronting entirely new phenomena such as female foeticide with the region’s assimilation into the culture of the plains. Although there are few indications of any large-scale movement emerging to rectify these social ills, the huge disparity in the division of labour with rural women working 16 to 18 hour days and the downward slide in the value of girl children in urban areas call for revolutionary change in attitudes, expectations, and behaviours on the part of society at large (Mishra, 2000).

As such, the political and social reforms enumerated by various examples in this chapter represent only the beginning of the overall process of empowerment. In the thirty years since Chipko, the women of Uttarakhand have advanced significantly, yet beyond representation or consultation, they must still break out of their subservient position in the public sphere of politics and the private sphere of the home. The UMM, in alliance with national women’s organizations as well as local village groups, can play a pivotal role in this ongoing struggle, while steering clear of political movements that would subsume their issues once again. Yet, as in Chipko, the multifaceted challenges can be

York University 50 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat most effectively met by coalitions of movements, with the empowerment of women from all walks of life as the paramount concern. Given the vast experience with self-help groups, movements, and all manners of organizations and institutions, the prospects for establishing such a wide-ranging campaign for complete societal transformation may indeed be quite good. Thus this transition from empowerment to power may present the next logical step, one that holds out hope of finally breaking, after so many half steps, the chains that have long bound the women of Uttarakhand to lives of drudgery and toil.

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Chapter IV: Civil Society Resurgence

Introduction

In the areas of community-based development and environmental conservation, civil society groups known generally known as non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have figured prominently as the chief agents of social change and service delivery at the grassroots level. Unlike governments, third sector organizations like NGOs operate at a voluntary or a contractual level, adopting a project approach to meeting the goals outlined by their mission statements. Their flexibility and potential for innovation are frequently cited as their chief strengths, while their traditional focus on community processes and participatory action research have become a mantra at the highest levels of global environmental discourse.

In the Uttarakhand region alone, literally thousands of NGOs have emerged in the years since Chipko. However, of the over 40,000 registered with the government, a majority have been established only on paper in the few short years following formal statehood, leading to investigations by the state bureaucracy in 2003 into the alleged widespread corruption in the NGO sector (Das, 2003). With this recent uproar over the authenticity and accountability of these organizations, such NGOs have increasingly come under the scrutiny of a skeptical public. Scandals over misspent public moneys, failed projects, and upset community dynamics have engendered large scale distrust of NGOs, even while governments are increasingly resorting to private groups to fulfill its social commitments and responsibilities. Moreover, the fierce competition for funds and petty rivalries and jealousies of NGO leaders has lowered their stature to that of social contractors as opposed to enlightened popular leaders (Kothari, 2002).

Beyond the outcry over this ostensible decline in NGO culture and the controversial trend towards “outsourcing” governmental social welfare and rural development schemes to private actors, it is important to note that not all NGOs are created equal. Indeed, for two consecutive years in 2002 and 2003, the national newsweekly, The Week chose NGO leaders from Uttarakhand as their “Men of the Year”, demonstrating the continued respect that these figures enjoy among the public. Moreover, while some of the larger NGOs have received similar accolades and have maintained a high profile abroad, other locally-based groups with their roots in the Chipko movement have quietly done their work with little fanfare or renown. Even tiny ones that have operated as self- employment schemes for the individuals involved, have accomplished a great deal while maintaining the delicate balance between subsistence and service. So while many NGOs have

York University 52 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat garnered both positive and negative attention, others have persisted in their work despite difficult social and economic conditions. Moreover, as the principal means by which non-local people and institutions offer solidarity and support to communities, distinctions between the various types of NGOs, both legitimate and bogus, need to be made to understand their proper role in people’s movements.

Grassroots Institutions

Those NGOs that enjoy the greatest legitimacy among the people have usually emerged as outgrowths of social movements. With deep historical roots in the areas they operate, such NGOs act in concert with local needs and pursue projects of interest to the community. They are often chronically short of funds, but have learned to make do with community resources. Indeed, some have even refused outside funding due to its potentially damaging effect on community cohesion, solidarity, and self-reliance, which have often been projected as goals onto themselves. Such groups prefer to call themselves voluntary associations rather than NGOs due to their emphasis on community issues.

Beyond the Dasholi Gram Swarajya Mandal of Chandi Prasad Bhatt, the well known progenitor of Chipko in Chamoli district, a large contingent of Chipko activists have likewise found their long term outlet through their own voluntary organizations. In addition to providing institutional support, erstwhile Chipko activists have chartered NGOs to sustain local initiatives and raise funds for their efforts. Some such organizations and their founders include Shekhar Pathak, Girija Pande, and Rajiv Lochan Shah of the People’s Association for Himalayan Action Research, Manhendra Singh Kunwar of the Himalaya Action Research Centre, and Pratap Shikhar of the Uttarakhand Jan Jagriti Sansthan (Mitra, 1993).

Case Study: Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan

As mentioned previously, the Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan of Pauri district, has been highly successful in carrying forward the idealism of its activist founder, Sachchidanand Bharati. His efforts at mobilizing communities and particularly village women’s groups to regreen the once lush Doodhatoli range of the Central Himalayas have been lauded for having achieved remarkable results. An active participant of the Chipko movement while a university student in neighbouring Chamoli district, Bharti returned home in 1980 to find his own region locked in the same downward spiral of environmental deterioriation and rural hardship that he had fought throughout Uttarakhand. His loyality and dedication to his region led Bharati to take the position of teacher at a

York University 53 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat local intermediate college, where he was able to employ his Chipko experience to launch a series of campaigns (Ray, 2003).

The Sansthan’s devotion to local needs and success at engendering mass involvement has led it to be likened to a real people’s movement with its characteristic low level of funding, minimal staff, yet high level of popular support and self-motivation among the surrounding villages (Kapoor, 2000). Furthermore, Bharati’s work has exemplified the goals of community-based development and conservation through his emphasis on dialogue, participation, self-reliance, local initiative, and traditional practices and knowledge. Where governmental programs and local forest councils have failed, the Sansthan has succeeded by stressing the benefits of healthy forests to local livelihoods, while undertaking a variety of water conservation, tree planting, micro-power generation, environmental education, and straightforward organizing campaigns (Ray, 2003). However, unlike movements, the Sansthan has chosen to concentrate its particular strength in the geographic specificity of its core empowerment agenda rather than spreading its reach. By firmly rooting its efforts in its particular locality, the Sansthan has attempted to plan for the long term.

Local-Global Partnerships

Other NGOs have either evolved into or been established as conduits for international aid and thus international priorities. Due to legal requirements of foreign aid, such NGOs are usually much more structured and hierarchical with paid staff and elaborate bookkeeping. Moreover, their work and message is tailored to the current global environment and development discourse to meet the demands of foreign funders. While their reach has often been far wider than community-based groups, they operate with the handicap of being perceived as representing outside interests. It has also been noted that due to their dependency on external funding and guidance, their efforts may not always prove sustainable either financially or socially.

Case Study: SBMA

In order to overcome these impediments, national and international agencies have selectively partnered with NGOs that have maintained a demonstrable grassroots presence to accomplish their goals. The Shri Bhuvaneshwari Mahila Ashram (SBMA) is one such organization that has earned an international reputation and has become a prominent medium for this kind of work in Tehri district. Founded in 1977 as an ashram for widows and orphaned children by Swami Manmathan, a former radical activist from Kerala, its mission has come to encompass a wide variety of research and development work, while retaining a focus on women and children’s welfare. With its central

York University 54 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat campus at Anjanisain, the SBMA has developed an extensive network in its immediate locale, allowing it to undertake any number of projects simultaneously (SBMA, 1998). Meanwhile, with its communication arm RACHNA headquartered in Dehradun, its outreach has extended further to the state capital, giving wide access to the state bureaucracy and political leadership. Its partnerships have extended beyond national departments, programs, and initiatives, to various UN agencies, the World Bank and Western NGOs.

Water management is one area that has marked the SBMA’s transition from an activist institution that once challenged the government to an active collaborator in the implementation of its programs. The SBMA was instrumental in resolving a conflict around usage of the Chandrabhaga stream located in its immediate vicinity. The conflict itself was multilayered, involving disputes between and within both villages and government agencies. SBMA’s solution lay in negotiating an arrangement between the various users and implementing technical upgrades to the water supply and irrigation networks. In 1995, the state government and the World Bank attempted to emulate SBMA’s success by modeling their SWAJAL watershed management scheme on the Chandrabhaga experience. Extending its reach to over 350 villages in Tehri district, SWAJAL involved establishing a joint decision making process including the government, community, and the facilitating NGO. Although participating in this project would present a risky proposition for SBMA, it would also provide an ideal opportunity to put the organization’s core beliefs in community participation and cooperation into practice on a wide scale. Given the intricacy of managing the complex set of relations and interests at play in any one locality, SBMA’s credibility would also be on the line. However, SBMA felt the time was right to take on this monumental task as the international development discourse was beginning to recognize the importance of local accountability, involvement, and empowerment that SBMA had long championed (Chakraborty, 1998). With this convergence of values, the SBMA has since developed a close relationship with the German organization GTZ for natural resources management and PLAN International for the education, health, and empowerment of children and their mothers.

Case Studies: AME & CHIRAG

Other NGOs that have developed a similar capacity for international collaboration include the Academy of Mountain Environics (AME) based in Dehradun and the Central Himalayan Rural Action Group (CHIRAG) in Nainital district. The AME has been engaging in scientific research since the mid-1990s, and is often tapped to lead a variety of biodiversity studies for international organizations in the Uttarakhand region. In addition to geological and ecological research, the AME

York University 55 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat brings together professionals from different fields to elaborate small scale, locally appropriate solutions to the housing, energy, water, and employment needs of Himalayan communities. In 2000, AME through affiliated member groups co-founded the Alliance for Development with other Dehradun-based organizations in anticipation of statehood for Uttarakhand. The Alliance, in addition to pooling resources of several NGOs, advocates for a pro-people and pro-environment development policy in Uttarakhand. Recently, the Alliance has taken up the cause of marginalized populations in Uttarakhand, including those of tribal groups living in the vicinity of protected areas and victims of bonded labour and girl-child trafficking.

While AME provides a platform for its members to engage in many activities simultaneously, CHIRAG focuses on specific projects and maintains an active relationship with its primary financial supporter, the Canada-based Canada India Village Aid (CIVA) and the Swiss Development Corporation (SDC). The SDC partnership has been particularly helpful as an example of regional cooperation between mountain peoples. While the original members of CHIRAG came together in 1986 to study the various environmental and social challenges in eastern Uttarakhand, it has evolved into a more traditional NGO with several successful initiatives in natural resource management, community health, and alternative energy. Neither activist oriented nor based on a charity model, CHIRAG has pursued the participatory development paradigm preferred by many NGOs working with international partners.

CHIRAG’s transition from an informal group of professionals and social activists to a structured organization was not without its difficulties. In 1999, CHIRAG’s rapid expansion and changing needs led CIVA, its main international partner, to recommend a profound restructuring process. Feeling that CHIRAG’s “loose, democratic management structure free of bureaucratic constraints… was beginning to outlive its usefulness”, CIVA attempted to correct CHIRAG’s organizational shortcomings by funding an extensive review exercise. Staffing issues such as salary, retention, recruitment, and gender equality were identified as problem areas, as they tended to affect the viability and sustainability of projects over the long term. Confusion over CHIRAG’s core mission, which had grown to encompass a disparate array of programs was also recognized as a concern. As CHIRAG’s role as a service provider or community advisor, or both, changed from project to project, CIVA also expressed the need for better planning and communication so as to avoid potential confusion (Phillips, 2000).

Eventually, CIVA’s deep and constructive intervention succeeded in reestablishing CHIRAG as a prominent NGO with an expanded community health program and more balanced sex ratio

York University 56 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat amongst its senior staff. In 2002, CHIRAG’s strides in structural reform led Uttaranchal state’s new rural development department to select it as an anchor NGO for rural Nainital district. However, CHIRAG has maintained its offices in remote Satli village to retain its independence from governmental bureaucracy as well as stay true to its rural roots (CHIRAG, 2002). Its programmatic focus has also remained fixed on the community health, empowerment, and environmental education needs of its chief constituencies, namely the women and youth of rural Uttarakhand.

Dangerous & Endangered NGOs

In recent years, NGOs like SBMA, AME, and CHIRAG to name a few, have increasingly oriented themselves towards linking grassroots experience with the dominant global environmental discourse (K. Kumar, 1995). In the case of SBMA, its members have attempted to communicate local perspectives in mountain regions such as Uttarakhand to the global community, while making global priorities relevant to local ground realities. CHIRAG’s partnership with CIVA has also been mutually edifying in terms of sharing expertise and experiences across continents. However, the widespread dissemination of the global discourse has also enabled a whole class of new NGOs to emerge that emulate the appearance and language of legitimate NGOs particularly when presenting themselves to potential funders. With little or no grassroots presence, these groups have proved a headache for the established NGOs, especially when interacting with a suspicious public at home and abroad.

Some such NGOs have been established by well-meaning individuals whose projects have largely failed due to a variety of reasons such as poor planning, misjudged priorities, flagging interest, lack of community buy-in and support, and any number of unforeseen difficulties and distractions. A few among the thousands of organizations are straightforward money-laundering and embezzlement operations, but this criminality can only go so far without a witless benefactor. More common are NGOs established to exploit some legal loophole for tax evasion purposes. From political spouses to large corporations, this type of philanthropic giving varies widely from the purely self-serving to that of a whole series of largely autonomous funding agencies that provide much needed funds to smaller groups. Most lie in between, with wealthy groups exerting some measure of control over their NGOs either through branding or as part of their public relations exercise.

Case Study: Sahayog

In addition, some NGOs have themselves suffered grievously due to their focus on unpopular issues, rather than any ill-intention or poor performance of their own. Sahayog was one such organization

York University 57 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat working in Almora district that was targeted by local mobs, the entire judiciary, and even national- level politicians. Established in 1992, Sahayog was a Lucknow-based NGO working on a variety of topics including reproductive health and women’s empowerment when its AIDS education program ran into controversy in April 2000 (Dhavan, 2000). In response to the distribution of an AIDS pamphlet that contained frank descriptions of alleged unhealthy sexual practices in the area, Sahayog’s offices were attacked by angry mobs. The authorities followed suit by arresting Sahayog members, denying them bail, humiliating them in public, and subjecting them to repressive measures including the National Security Act. The regional newspapers further stoked the hysteria surrounding the case. Politicians likewise attempted to derive political mileage from denouncing Sahayog. With conservative forces in power at the state and national levels, persecution reached such a frenzy as to draw national and international attention. However even with the intervention of rights groups around the world, the hostility eventually forced Sahayog to abandon its projects in Uttarakhand, despite the desperate need for women’s reproductive health care in the hills (Rajalakshmi, 2001).

The popular distrust of NGOs underlay much of the anger in the Sahayog’s case. Although the reaction was extreme and largely attributable to the social conservatism of rural communities and the posturing of politicians, the offending pamphlet symbolized the growing rift between international priorities and local sensibilities. In this case, the mode of AIDS education involving open and honest dialogue as pioneered in the West conflicted with Indian societal sexual modesty with disastrous results. Sahayog’s funding by international donors such as the McArthur Foundation and Oxfam also came under fire as representing foreign interference and insensitivity to local culture. That the controversial pamphlet was seen as a definitive statement on sexual practices prevalent in a region was all the more inflammatory. Even Sahayog’s supporters acknowledged potential problems with the research methodology used to write the pamphlet, expressing the need to take greater care when reporting on the intimate details of a community’s social mores.

Responsibility & Accountability in Today’s NGOs

While Sahayog’s experience was uniquely appalling, its echoes could be found in many other NGO- community conflicts over accountability and community responsibility. In many instances, negative experiences have led to calls for a stricter regulation of research conduct, particularly in areas where studies have informed governmental decisions that has proved detrimental to local communities. In protected areas where such issues have been pronounced, there have been cases where NGO-led environmental research has initiated conservation measures that have negated traditional land use

York University 58 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat rights. Although largely unintentional, the focus on conservation to the near exclusion of livelihood concerns has been devastating as witnessed by the inhabitants of the Nanda Devi Biosphere Reserve and Rajaji National Park in Uttaranchal state. Environmental action groups like Kalpavriksh have in turn helped establish conservation and livelihoods networks to rectify these injustices that have brought the whole field of biological conservation into disrepute for having anti-people biases (Kothari, 2002).

Similarly, the increasing dependency of NGOs in the 1990s on foreign funding has already raised concerns that international priorities may be distorting local initiatives (Banerjee, 1998). Particularly with institutions such as the World Bank, USAID, DFID, and the UN that have enormous political and economic baggage and clout, NGOs have had to walk a fine line between implementing funded projects and critiquing their basis. Furthermore, the troubles encountered by Sahayog represent some of potential dangers posed to internationally-funded NGOs when faced with an orchestrated nationalist backlash. Even organizations as large and well-organized as SBMA have had difficulty handling some of the contradictions emerging from these collaborations, although SBMA has probably managed better than most due its grassroots foundations and revolutionary past. Other organizations like CHIRAG have stressed their participatory research credentials as a buttress against any drift towards unaccountability and exploitation. Still, despite good intentions and democratic safeguards, the potential gulf between the interests of donor agencies and the specific practical needs of target communities has become one of the critical issues confronting NGOs as they increasingly take on localized development and conservation work (Dogra, 2002).

From Cooptation to Cooperation

Philosophically, many radical political commentators have also criticized the NGO’s “new programs rather than new minds” approach to solving deep-rooted social and environmental problems. In the case of Chipko, this trend was widely condemned for having dissipated the revolutionary potential of the movement, replacing the struggle for local resource rights with a bureaucratic approach to conservation enabled by pliant and coopted NGOs (Aryal, 1994). The DGSM itself has come under this criticism, where its roots as a locally rooted forest workers’ cooperative in the 1960s have given way to an almost purely conservationist program in the post- Chipko period. Even more troubling have been the charges levied by prominent regional activists that NGOs have perpetuated rather alleviated certain social problems. In regards to bonded labour and the trafficking of women that have long victimized low caste Kholta communities in westernmost Uttarakhand, the exclusively welfarist orientation of male-dominated NGOs has not

York University 59 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat made a dent on these practices. Even development loans have largely aided men or entangled them in deeper debt, leading to further exploitation of women for the sex trade. As such, activists have called for a stronger critical stand against the system itself, a course of action that NGOs have allegedly downplayed so as not to endanger their assets or embroil them and their donors in any damaging controversy (Prasun & Kainthola, 2002).

However, the community thinking fostered by some exceptional NGOs can lay the groundwork for greater imaginings of what might constitute an alternative, sustainable and just society. As seen in the movement towards women’s empowerment, NGOs such as DGSM provided the foundations for social, economic, and eventually political emancipation through the formation of Mahila Mangal Dals. As such, rather than treating NGO work as a way to channel the idealistic fervour of potentially troublesome people, the best NGOs could serve to empower and train participants in democratic decision-making, collective action, and self-reliance. Success stories can be emulated and networked, bringing together intensely local struggles into a wider regional framework. This “trickling up” effect can give rise to new thinking by demonstrating the possibility of social change at the ground level. Most importantly, NGOs risk losing their moorings if they lose sight of their origins, often rooted in confrontation and active resistance to the status quo. Particularly when working with powerful international institutions or government agencies, they could only bolster their legitimacy if they not forget their duty as members of civil society to challenge entrenched interests on behalf of their constituencies.

Thus NGOs can play a vital part in evolving social and environmental movements by achieving demonstrable results, empowering local people, providing solidarity and support, and giving them useful tools that can be transferred to a whole array of fronts. Indeed, communities can suffer a grievous blow to their enthusiasm for the future by a badly managed, dispiriting NGO experience. Great care must be taken in instilling trust in NGO-community relations by clearly outlining the ethical framework under which any collaboration or partnership is formed. Moreover, the project must bring tangible, and sustainable benefits to the community in question, with the NGO safeguarding the rights of the participants. In effect, it is by transforming a culture of despair and despondency to one of hope and self-confidence through collective action, and not the other way around, that NGOs can make their greatest contribution and bear their greatest responsibility.

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Selected List of NGOs

The following list provides critical information on several NGOs including additional aspects of groups mentioned in preceding chapters. The organizations have been chosen for their avowed pairing of social and environmental commitments as well as a representative diversity of size, location, and function. In most cases, personal communication was established with group leaders, with supplemental data derived from the available literature.

AME (ACADEMY FOR MOUNTAIN ENVIRONICS) From the laboratory to the field

51/5 Rajpur Road, Dehradun 248 001 Contact: Sreedhar Ramamurthy

Founded in 1995, AME operates as a collective of about a dozen professionals from various disciplines that work in such areas as biological conservation and watershed management. Seeing itself as a learning organization, AME pursues a community development framework within a mountain ecosystems context, while advocating participative research, community-based activities, enterprise development and servicing, and communication as its chief tools.

AME’s convenor Sreedhar Ramamurthy was originally trained as a geologist in Roorkee, Hardwar district, and many of his studies involve Himalayan geology and allied fields like environmental land use planning. As the son of an all-Indian postal service official seconded to various army battalions during his childhood, Sreedhar traveled throughout India reaching Uttarakhand as early as 1963. Sreedhar has also worked in Andhra Pradesh as an advocate for tribal rights threatened by both resource extraction and development projects. In Andhra where the police exercise wide powers in their thirty-year war against Maoist rebels, this work in the 1980s proved particularly dangerous, but Sreedhar persisted in championing human rights in the state.

From his current offices in Dehradun, Sreedhar has not remained idle in challenging repression, intervening most recently in the Kataldi court case featured next chapter. As a follow up action, he intends to monitor the mining sector as pressure mounts under the new state’s industrial policy for resumed large-scale extraction (Jayan, 2004). In 2004, he coordinated the compilation of a State of the Environment report for the Uttaranchal state government.

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NAVDANYA TRUST Globalizing traditional knowledge

105 Rajpur Road, Dehradun 248 001 Contact: Dr. Vandana Shiva

Navdanya’s founder, Dr. Vandana Shiva, is an internationally renowned writer, scientist, activist, and spokesperson for the anti-globalization movement. In Uttarakhand where she was raised and did her initial writings on the Chipko movement, she has also built an organization to champion organic agriculture and farmer’s rights throughout India. Headquartered in Dehradun, Navdanya has developed a particularly strong base in Garhwal, forming a network of over 20,000 farmers throughout western Uttarakhand’s six districts. It also provides a retail outlet for its organic produce through a network of stores.

In addition to advocacy work and support for organic farming through seed banks, technical training, and marketing support in the areas of its operation, Navdanya has launched a series of high profile campaigns and court cases to highlight its concerns over biopiracy, farmer’s rights, and agro- biodiversity. Beyond the famous Neem and Basmati patent cases, Dr. Shiva has also through Navdanya attempted to put into practice her idea of Jaiv Panchayat, or Earth Democracy at the village level which was initiated in Augustmuni, Rudraprayag district. Recently, Navdanya’s Bija Vidyapeeth or training and conservation centre in the Doon Valley has been hosting a series of semiannual workshops in association with Schumacher College for a predominantly international audience.

Interestingly, Navdanya means Nine Seeds, referring to the traditional intercropping system that has long maintained the biological diversity of India’s fields. In Garhwal, the Baranaja system, or Twelve Grains, has prevailed since time immemorial (Paget-Clarke, 1998).

BEEJ BACHAO ANDOLAN Reviving traditional practices for local self-reliance

Nagni Village, Tehri Garhwal 249 175 Contact: Vijay Jardhari

Although Vandana Shiva’s work on biodiversity and food security issues has been widely acclaimed, what is less known is that her work has been largely based on the efforts of villagers from the Henwal Valley to preserve their traditional crop varieties and revive traditional farming.

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Not an NGO per se, the “Beej Bachao Andolan” or Save the Seeds movement was initiated by Chipko stalwarts such as Vijay Jardhari of Jardhargaon village in the late 1980s. Its members have traveled extensively through Uttarakhand to catalog and collect hundreds of varieties of crops such as rice, kidney beans, and millet that have been falling into disuse due to the green revolution and decline of mountain agriculture. In the course of its research, the movement has developed an institutional capacity with little financial support, establishing a seed bank, herbarium, and experimental plotds. In Jardhargaon itself, the movement has revived traditional farming practices using crops appropriate to the hills of Uttarakhand, restoring the soil while moving farmers off the chemical pesticide and fertilizer treadmill that has been threatening small farmers and consumers alike. Moreover the goal of conserving biodiversity has been integrated with preserving cultural heritage and restoring a sustainable local economy.

In the post-statehood period, the government bureaucracy has made much noise about putting Uttaranchal’s farming on an organic track, but still has to overcome years of bias towards modern industrial agricultural methods based on biologically engineered high yield varieties and heavy inputs. However in the high Himalayas, where such large scale production models are simply not possible nor sustainable, the Beej Bachao Andolan has gained a foothold in certain small pockets. The movement has had to overcome enormous obstacles, but with the emergence of food security and food safety as prominent global issues, their visionary efforts have been increasingly recognized at home and especially abroad (Jardhari & Kothari, 1997; Malhotra, 2003).

DGSM (DASHOLI GRAM SWARAJ MANDAL) Institutionalizing the Chipko struggle

Mandir Marg, Gopeshwar, Chamoli 246 401 Contact: Chandi Prasad Bhatt

Founded in 1964 by Chandi Prasad Bhatt in Gopeshwar, Chamoli district, DGSM began as a workers’ cooperative that sought to improve the standard of living of the local people through collective action and ownership of small-scale industries. Earlier its members also engaged in various Gandhian campaigns for social uplift including anti-liquor agitations and the fight against castism. However, DGSM came to prominence with its organized resistance to the forest contracting system that initiated the Chipko movement in Chamoli. Its success eventually changed the mission of the organization to that of community-based conservation through local empowerment. In later years Bhatt would play an instrumental role in organizing Mahila Mangal Dals (women’s self-help groups) throughout the Chamoli region, as well as lead several reforestation initiatives. Recently, DGSM

York University 63 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat attention has turned to reviving traditional water harvesting techniques to address the water crisis afflicting the hills.

Through all these efforts, the DGSM has centered its actions on village development. As such, it retains its original Gandhian foundations as a promoter of self-governing village republics inherent in its call for “Gram Swaraj” or village self-rule.

HARC (HIMALAYAN ACTION RESEARCH CENTRE) Empowering women and local communities with technical knowledge

744 Indira Nagar, P.O. New Forest, Dehradun 248 006 Field Office: Near Forest Range Office, P.O. Naugaon, Uttarkashi Contact: Mahendra Singh Kunwar Women’s Wing: Chhaya Kunwar

HARC was founded in 1988 as a voluntary organization with offices in Dehradun and field headquarters in Naugaon, a small village at the entrance to Uttarkashi district. While it has focused on education and capacity building to fulfill its largely rural development goals, its members have also strived to impart their scientific and technical knowledge by translating and packaging it for local farmers, women’s groups, and village leaders.

HARC’s women’s wing, led by Chhaya Kunwar, has been a particularly effective voice for local rights, expounding in international symposia the virtues of people’s institutions as the chief enablers of sustainable development (Kunwar, 2001). She has also been a vocal proponent of a specific gender focus in environmental management, calling for the reinvigoration and recognition of women’s groups such as the Mahila Mangal Dals. Apart from this advocacy work, Kunwar has worked with the Participatory Research in Asia (PRIA) and has edited a popular booklet entitled, “Emancipated Women Folk of Uttarakhand” that tells several stories of strong and empowered women from recent Uttarakhand history (Kunwar, 1997).

HESCO (HIMALAYAN ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES AND CONSERVATION ORGANIZATION) Combining ancient technologies with modern innovations

Village Ghisarpali, P.O. Mehuwala, Via Majra, Dehradun 248 001 Field Office: Vigyan Prasth, Gwar-chauki, Gholtir, Rudraprayag 246 430 Contact: Dr. Anil Joshi

HESCO was formed in 1983 by Dr. Anil Joshi and colleagues to develop new participatory strategies for community development. Many of these involved resurrecting and modernizing

York University 64 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat indigenous knowledge and technologies that combined both the genius of local systems as well as innovative new approaches to every day problems of rural villages. The best documented of these is the rebirth of the region’s traditional water mills as part of a larger water movement or “Jal Andolan” and new uses for a common weed that has become an income generator for villages.

The recycling of traditional water mills embodies much of HESCO’s orientation towards adapting locally available resources to meet local needs. While hitherto, water mills or “gharats” in the Garhwal region were used for grinding grain, they have since been modified to generate electricity. This has turned the mill owner into a local energy provider, while making decentralized development and local income generation possible. Furthermore, HESCO has constantly upgraded its technical expertise through the learning experiences of a network of mills than now spans the Himalayas (Indian Express, 1999). Likewise, Dr. Anil Joshi put his botanical background to good use when he adapted the Lantana weed, an extremely invasive alien species that has spread throughout the hills, as a wood and wicker replacement. So successful has this adaptation been that it has been used for a variety of purposes such as furniture, building materials, fences, containers, and even an insect repellant through the chemicals in its leaves (Kazmi, 1999; Prabhu, 1999; Sandhu, 2000).

Recently, Dr. Joshi achieved prominence after receiving the prestigious Jawaharlal Nehru award for the year 1999-2000 and being named the 2002 Man of the Year by The Week news magazine. Interestingly, Dr. Joshi dislikes the term NGO, echoing the concerns of skeptics that see them as removed from the people they ostensibly serve. Rather, he prefers a looser definition based on putting community’s priorities first, and only then in elaborating a strategy with the full participation of the community (Pushkarna, 2002).

HIMALAYA TRUST Supporting grassroots initiatives with funding and networking

274/2 Vasant Vihar, Dehradun 248 006 Contact: N.D. Jayal

The Himalaya Trust (HT) was established in 1993 as a means to fund and sustain various grassroots initiatives in biodiversity conservation and rural empowerment. From its base of activists inspired by Chipko figure Sunderlal Bahuguna, HT has come to serve a network of groups in Tehri, Uttarkashi, Almora, and neighbouring Himachal Pradesh districts. Over the years, these organizations have engaged in several forest regeneration and community development projects either carried out by local initiative or to fulfill state and central government programs. Following the 1999 Chamoli

York University 65 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat earthquake, activists involved with HT engaged in recovery and reconstruction efforts through their spin-off organization, Samvedna.

The HT has also partnered with international organizations such as PANOS for whom it coordinated the collection of oral testimonies for a series on mountain people. Carried out over six years by Indira Ramesh and a team of researchers, the research gathered extensive interviews with over thirty individuals from areas where HT has maintained an active presence. The project’s final report entitled, “Voices from the Mountain” focused on traditional knowledge and the age-old relations between human culture and nature, as well as the challenges faced by rural communities in an age of transformation (Lakshmi, 2003).

N.D. Jayal, a close collaborator of Sunderlal Bahuguna on the Tehri dam campaign, has acted as trustee for the organization since its foundation. As an activist and a former director at Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH), Jayal has written extensively on issues in biological conservation. His articles on the ecological crisis of modern India have been particularly notable for their far reaching critique of modern civilization along the lines of Western radical environmental thinkers.

PAHAR (PEOPLE’S ASSOCIATION FOR HIMALAYAN AREA RESEARCH) Filling the gap in mountain research

Parikrama, Talla Danda Tallital, Nainital 263 001 Contact: Dr. Shekhar Pathak

PAHAR is that rare non-profit organization that fulfills several important roles that no government institution can. Part think tank, part research institute, and part activist body, PAHAR is best known for its publications on all aspects of Himalayan geography, culture, and politics. Under the guidance of Shekhar Pathak, one of Uttarakhand’s preeminent historians, PAHAR has sponsored everything from archaelogical expeditions to earthquake relief measures to social movement research. In these efforts, PAHAR has bypassed credentialed academic work for that jointly conducted by scientists, activists, and interested citizens.

PAHAR’s multidisciplinary approach can be seen in its principal interest in the state of the natural environment and people of Uttarakhand. To this effect, PAHAR has led an epic foot pilgrimage or padyatra from the eastern to western end of Uttarakhand once every decade over the last forty years. Known as the Askot Arakot Abhiyan, the march endeavours to travel the length of Uttarakhand to collect valuable economic, social, and environmental data on the state of mountain communities. In

York University 66 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat keeping with Dr. Pathak’s interest in culture and history, the march also aims to gather oral histories from various far flung parts of the state.

By luck of history, at least two of the foot marches were launched in pivotal times. The first padyatra held in 1974 during the rise of the Chipko movement helped galvanize a sense of collective identity in the Uttar Pradesh hills that later culminated in the 1979 founding of the Uttarakhand Kranti Dal separate state party. Twenty years later, PAHAR undertook the march during the height of the separate state agitation that emerged from this resurgent consciousness. In 2004, the Abhiyan attempted its most ambitious journey yet, consisting of 10 separate routes traveling through at least 350 villages and passing through “16 alpine pastures, 20 Kharaks (high altitude grazing grounds), 15 zones and 3 valleys affected by earthquake and landslide, 8 initial regions of Chipko movement, 15 Chattees (ancient pilgrimage camp sites) currently in ruins, 5 Himalayan pilgrimage routes, 5 tribal zones and 3 regions of Indo-Tibetan trade activities.” (Pande, 2004)

RLEK (RURAL LITIGATION AND ENTITLEMENT KENDRA) Empowering the underprivileged by defending their civil and human rights

68/1 Rajpur Road, Dehradun 248 001 Contact: Dr. Avdash Kaushal

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RLEK is an organization based in Dehradun but operating in all 13 districts of Uttaranchal for the empowerment and legal protection of tribal people, women, and other disadvantaged groups. Its founder, Avdash Kaushal, is both a Padma Shree recipient (highest civilian award in India) as well as The Week’s Man of the Year for 2003.

A former professor of Public Administration, Kaushal moved to Dehradun from the plains of Uttar Pradesh in 1972. After his struggles against the practice of bonded labour prevalent in the Jaunsar- Bawar region and success with public interest litigation in the Mussoorie hills limestone mining case in 1985, Kaushal moved to institutionalize his fight for the legal rights and entitlements of marginalized members of hill society. As such, RLEK was founded in 1989 and has since grown to employ around 150 personnel.

In keeping with its rights orientation, RLEK has established both a human rights centre and a training program for women panchayati leaders. As noted in the previous chapter, RLEK has hosted a convention for Uttaranchal’s local women leaders on at least three separate occasions. Such gatherings have given a voice to the pressing concerns of women, particularly in the years following Uttaranchal’s statehood when a new panchayati raj act was being prepared.

RLEK’s commitment to the Van Gujjar tribes of Rajaji National Park has been particularly vital in protecting their rights. As a nominally Muslim nomadic-pastoral people, the Van Gujjars have been victimized by local villagers and park authorities alike. RLEK has thus taken steps to empower their communities by brokering their involvement in forest management and offering adult education to their largely illiterate population.

While RLEK receives funds from the UN, the central government, and even the state government, this has not deterred it from pursuing the rights of its community partners. However, by acting through the courts and pursuing non-partisan legislation, RLEK has managed to stay clear of political tussles, while pushing for the rights of the marginalized. In this, Kaushal’s personal stature and combativeness has helped his many causes (Uprety, 2003).

SBMA (SHRI BHUVANESHWARI MAHILA ASHRAM) From service to advocacy and program implementation

P.O. Anjanisain, Tehri Garhwal 249 121 Contact: Cyril Raphael

Swami Manmathan came to Garhwal from Kerala in the 1970s after his conversion from a radical activist to a religious leader. In 1977, he founded the Sri Bhuvaneshwari Mahila Ashram at

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Anjanisain as a refuge for widows and orphans who had few other services dedicated to their plight at the time. In 1990, Swami Manmathan was assassinated by members of the local mafia who were incensed with the social welfare work of the SBMA that presented a threat to their illicit liquor trade. Since 1991, Cyril Raphael, a well-traveled colleague of Manmathan, has administered the SBMA and its multiplying activities.

Located in the vicinity of Chandrabadni temple, the extensive land for the Ashram was donated by an army officer in honour of his mother. Since then, the ashram has grown into a veritable campus that is constantly humming with various educational and planning activities. The local and international initiatives launched from the grounds of the Ashram reach over 300 villages in the Tehri Garhwal region.

During the 2002 Year of the Mountains, SBMA was particularly busy with the International Conference on Mountain Children that focused specifically on the needs of young people such as education, health care, social welfare, environmental awareness, and empowerment. Although its initial reach extended to surrounding Himalayan regions, the conference and its successor organization, the Mountain Children’s Forum, have been most successful at encouraging youth leadership in the rural regions of Uttarakhand itself. Today the forum operates independently as a loose network of groups linked with local NGOs that facilitate with capacity building and skills sharing.

See current chapter for more details.

SIDH (SOCIETY FOR THE INTEGRATED DEVELOPMENT OF HIMALAYAS) Providing critical education for the empowerment of rural youth

Hazelwood cottage, PO Box 19, Landour Cantt., Mussoorie 248 179 Contact: Pawan Gupta and Anuradha Gupta

Beginning in 1989, SIDH has come to focus on promoting appropriate education for rural children that is relevant to their social and environmental context and that draws on their traditional knowledge to enrich personal development. Spreading out to over 35 villages by 2000, it has also attempted sustain these efforts beyond their immediate funding cycles by establishing Village Education Committees that would sponsor educational initiatives and democratize the educational process.

Its strong critique of “colonial education” has had a profound impact on its approach. Realizing that the phenomena of out migration from the hills has had as much to do with the debasement of village

York University 69 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat life in the education system as the collapse of the agricultural economy, SIDH has tried to reverse this trend by promoting a healthy regard for rural livelihoods. Likewise, valuing local culture and history as been a key component in building self-esteem and confidence among rural youth. Through its think tank, Sanshodhan, SIDH has also innovated new themes such as media and consumer education to help children navigate the vagaries of modern media culture which is playing an ever more powerful role in shaping identity formation (Negi, 2001).

USN (UTTARAKHAND SEVA NIDHI) Propelling environmental education and local knowledge among rural youth

Manerath Sadan, Champa Naula, Almora 263 601 Contact: Dr. Lalit Pande

Dr. Lalit Pande founded the USN in 1996 with funds from his family trust. Since then, he has oriented his activities towards environmental education based on experiential learning, establishing the Uttarakhand Parayavaran Shiksha Kendra or Uttarakhand Environmental Education Centre as its primary outlet. He has written several well-received textbooks such as the “Our Land, Our Life” series for high school students and has conducted workshops for teachers as well as students aiming to reacquaint them with the natural environment. His pioneering environmental education course based on practical work and research in the field was introduced in 1992 on an experimental basis before spreading to over 500 schools and 65,000 students of grades 6-8. While the course has been extensively modified over the years, it has retained a focus on linking biodiversity conservation and sustainable livelihoods while imparting an environmental ethos (Dhar et al., 2002).

As its name implies, USN has remained centered on Uttarakhand. While Dr. Pande has spoken to groups outside the state, he has tailored his instructional materials for the local environment and local realities. Recognizing that experiential learning must come from one’s immediate surroundings, the USN has also supported local Uttarakhandi youth in various endeavours to improve their communities. In one such sponsored project, rainwater was harvested to meet the needs of villages in Almora. Although USN provided technical assistance, the project was conceived and carried out by village youth in keeping with USN’s belief in small-scale initiatives (Saravanan, 2003).

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Chapter V: Emerging Urban Concerns and Movements

Introduction

Over the last three chapters of this paper, a rural theme has prevailed in keeping with Chipko’s field of activity and legacy. However, while both environmental scholars and institutions have focused overwhelmingly on the historic environmental struggles and contemporary problems confronting the forests and rural economy of Uttarakhand, urban issues and movements have been less well documented or attended. However, rapid urbanization is increasingly changing the dimensions of topics such as environmental management and conservation, even as a host of new factors stemming from population growth, globalization, and technological change are emerging to challenge the traditional focus of Indian social and environmental movements. As the new urban realities become a larger part of the lived experiences of India’s people, greater efforts will be needed to match the severity of the urban environmental crisis.

This paper will thus conclude with a brief overview of the emerging urban context of the social and environmental challenges traditionally associated with the Chipko movement. It will outline the impact of urbanization processes across India as well as in Uttarakhand itself, and will describe in detail the case of Dehradun, the region’s largest city. While in previous chapters, forest management regimes, gender empowerment processes, and people’s institutions have been conceptually described as the unofficial legacy of Chipko, this chapter will delineate the probable terrain of future environmental struggles, including the urban equivalent of panchayati raj institutions and the struggle against limestone mining that constituted the 1980s urban counterpart to the Chipko movement and that looks set to resume in the coming years.

India’s Urban Boom

For India, the demographic shift away from a largely agrarian society has been dramatic. According to census figures, the urban share of the Indian population jumped from 18 percent in 1961 to 28 percent in 2001. In absolute numbers this has represented an increase of 350 percent in forty years, going from 79 million to 285 million (Tiwari, 2002). Census trends forecast a further increase of 87 percent over the next two decades, bringing India’s urban population up to a staggering 533 million. In the past ten years alone, the number of metropolitan cities has increased by around 50 percent, representing a belated recognition of the growth throughout the country (Tiwari, 2002).

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The ensuing challenges have taken on many hues. Pressures on land, natural resources, and preexisting physical and administrative infrastructure have combined to stress cities to the breaking point. The depletion of traditional potable water supplies has been one major issue that has sparked international concern, including the 2003 International Year of Fresh Water. Lack of garbage disposal facilities beyond spot incineration and the increasing use of non-biodegradable packaging, plastic bags, and containers has become a chronic feature of Indian life. Urban sprawl has run up against environmental preservation, as forested and agricultural lands have been gobbled up by uncontrolled growth.

Moreover, new problems associated with growing affluence such as air pollution and traffic congestion have cropped up. Centre for Science and the Environment (1999), a prominent Indian environmental research organization, determined that in the twenty years between 1975 and 1995, vehicular emissions increased eight-fold, far exceeding the Indian GDP increase of only 2.5 percent during the same period (Roychowdhury & Ghosh, 1999). While road building and traffic regulation has lagged behind the motorization of society leading to an increasing number of road fatalities, air pollution has emerged as a silent killer in urban areas. Larger cities such as Delhi and Bombay have tried easing the pollution problem by switching public and informal transit to compressed natural gas (CNG), yet regulation in smaller cities has yet to become a high priority. Although a few tentative steps have been taken to address localized traffic problems, the greater question of whether motorization and its bias towards the affluent classes is itself a desirable form of advancement has yet to be asked, even while conditions look set to worsen in the forseeable future.

With the onset of globalization, an increasingly migrant workforce has made planning difficult as urban areas continue to draw a steady trickle of the newly dispossessed forced out of their declining agricultural livelihoods. Providing housing, employment, and services for these migrants has only added to the woes of an overburdened urban infrastructure, thus eroding their capacity to control and regulate each additional influx. The cascade affect has led to a free fall collapse of effective city governance. Moreover, social tensions and friction between ethnic, religious, and caste groups has grown in intensity, with the basic struggle for resources and employment as the often overlooked driving force.

Dehradun and Uttarakhand’s Cities in the Mountains

The explosive growth of Dehradun and other urban centres in traditionally agrarian Uttarakhand represents these stark trends with some important specific areas of concern. Once distinguished for its healthy climate, scenic beauty, and abundant amenities, Dehradun has acted as the provisional

York University 72 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat capital of Uttaranchal state since 2000. Lying in the centre of the unique and ecologically sensitive Doon Valley, Dehradun is by far the largest urban agglomeration in the region, serving as an important tourism gateway to the Garhwal Himalayas. At the northern periphery of the valley lies Mussoorie, a hill station built by the British as a convalescence depot that has become the destination of choice for middle class tourists from the plains (Marquand, 2000). Recently, Dehradun’s expansion has reached the periphery of Mussoorie, creating an urbanized corridor running the North-South width of the valley.

A quiet town at the turn of the 20th century, Dehradun has seen its overall population grow from a scant 28,100 in 1901 to 457,000 in 2001 (Census of India, 2001). The district itself saw a population boom, starting at 180,000 in 1901, reaching about 1,026,000 in 1991 and passing 1,280,000 in 2001. Much of this growth followed independence when specific historic events and long term trends combined to boost the population. Starting with India’s partition, which led to the arrival of thousands of refugees from West Punjab, many other groups from Nepalis and Tibetans to retired civil servants and military officers settled in the Doon Valley in subsequent years. The native residents of the surrounding highlands have since shrunk to barely a third of the population.

Despite the cultural diversity these immigration waves have brought to the city, Dehradun and Doon Valley on the whole have been disproportionately impacted by the accompanying population increase. The end-of-century growth of 52 percent in the 1990s and the rising affluence of a sizeable section of the city’s population has been associated with a doubling in the number of motorized vehicles registered in the city, leading to critical traffic conditions and air pollution (Ghosh & Nangia, 1998). The state of the water supply has also become a serious concern, with an aging infrastructure, lack of new sources, and widespread contamination causing acute shortages and exacting enormous hardship on city residents (Choe et al., 1996; Sandhu, 2000). In addition, a large migrant population of seasonal labourers, tourists, and pilgrims are finding their way to the valley, so that in Mussoorie alone, the town’s permanent population is dwarfed by almost ten-fold during the summer months, putting a severe strain on the area’s resources (Madan & Rawat, 2000).

The decision in 2000 to make Dehradun the provisional capital itself has proven controversial, as city residents were never polled whether they desired this massive imposition on the already teetering infrastructure of the city. The Uttarakhand movement that brought about the formation of the new state also opposed the choice of Dehradun, preferring a new capital at the small hamlet of Gairsain in the geographic centre of the state. As a city on the periphery of the Himalayas, Dehradun was seen as too large and too intimidating for the intended beneficiaries of the new state,

York University 73 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat particularly the female majority rural population whose frontal organizations opposed it vociferously as mentioned in a previous chapter (Chandola, 2000). However, the state government in its infancy has so far lacked the political will and interest to move to Gairsain. Instead, the state has pressed ahead in establishing administrative institutions in Dehradun by expropriating office buildings and hotels for government usage.

Moreover, other regions of Uttarakhand in addition to the Doon Valley are facing rapid urbanization. The hill districts adjoining Dehradun district have witnessed a four-fold increase in the number of towns between 1901 and 1981 (Uniyal, 1999). The expanding network of roads has played an important part in this clustering of much of the region’s population. The example of Chamba located along the Mussoorie-Tehri highway is particularly telling. Situated near New Tehri, Chamba emerged from obscurity just two decades ago to become one of the major urban centres of the district. People from old Tehri have also chosen to settle in Chamba, swelling its number beyond the means of its infrastructure. Meanwhile, towns such as Pauri, Gopeshwar, and Joshimath are far exceeding their carrying capacity and facing chronic difficulties with water and sanitation. In Mussoorie and Nainital, two celebrated hill stations, overbuilding, overpopulation, and pollution have seriously eroded their charm and liveability (Gantzer, 1997; Kannan, 1998). Complicating matters further, these new “concrete jungles” have had to contend with the low carrying capacity and fragility of mountain environments. That these towns will become “typical third world urban nightmares” is a looming possibility if nothing is done to enact basic principles of urban planning.

New Recognition for Urban Local Bodies

Upper levels of government, whether central or state, have responded to these complex problems by attempting to devolve power and responsibilities to local institutions through the 73rd and 74th amendments to the Indian constitution that in parallel to the explicit constitutional recognition of Panchayati Raj Institutions, affirmed Urban Local Bodies (ULBs) as the primary levels of governance for urban areas. These acts decreed both the economic and political empowerment of such bodies, and a standardized mode of democratic representation for the denizens of cities across India (Tiwari, 2002). Acutely aware of the stagnant or even deteriorating fiscal condition of many pre-existing ULBs, the framers of these amendments hoped that decentralization would allow local municipal bodies to seek out their own funds and funding mechanisms. Moreover, these amendments tried to adjust the jurisdictional confusion between central, state, and local agencies, especially in newly urbanized regions, which had cropped up over years of haphazard planning and band aid solutions. They mandated the creation of planning committees at the urban, district, and

York University 74 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat regional levels and as in the rural context, strongly endorsed any process that involved the poor and disadvantaged who had traditionally been left out of planning decisions that affected their lives and communities.

However, even before the empowerment of ULBs in 1992, various forms of urban governance were enacted in cities like Dehradun. Up until a quarter century ago, urban planning in Dehradun was negligible owing to the minimal growth experienced in the first half of the 20th century. Moreover in the rest of Uttarakhand except for Nainital, urban centres had not come under any form of urban planning or regulatory authority. However, as the population expanded, it became necessary for various levels of governments to coordinate their efforts in planning, development, and governance. In 1973 the Uttar Pradesh state government, then responsible for the Dehradun district, passed the Urban Planning and Development Act that eventually gave rise more than a decade later to the Mussoorie Dehradun Development Authority (MDDA, 2002).

Experience of Urban Planning in the Doon Valley

The MDDA was given responsibility over a contiguous area that included the Mussoorie-Dehradun North-South corridor and 185 surrounding villages. Granted both decision-making powers and a mandate to undertake various urban development projects, the MDDA was also charged with implementing the 1982-2001 Dehradun Master Plan and enforcing various regulations involving both environmental protection and municipal zoning. Stressing an “integrated development process” the MDDA ostensibly pursued the “functionally utilitarian, environmentally healthy, recreationally adequate, and aesthetically appealing” in its development objectives (MDDA, 2002).

From its inception however, the MDDA faced numerous hurdles, many but not all related to the enormous variety of tasks it was assigned. By its own admission, the MDDA could not implement the Master Plan to any great extent due to issues such as an inefficient implementation process, lack of any plan or funding mechanism for infrastructure expansion and upgrades, haphazard enforcement of existing zoning bylaws and building codes, and inadequate coordination between different urban agencies (MDDA, 2002). The last issue was supposedly resolved by the formation of the MDDA, however differences and jurisdictional conflicts apparently persisted with the new regime. The fact that encroachment into ecologically sensitive areas, illegal construction, colonization of reserved lands, and the proliferation of slums surged in the years following the establishment of the MDDA, indicates that the MDDA’s shortcomings as an organization have had profound effects on the city.

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Mussoorie has especially suffered for MDDA’s failures. Massive overbuilding for the tourist trade has destroyed much of its scenic beauty and adversely affected local residents, taxing the already meagre water supply and despoiling the surrounding hillsides with construction debris. Moreover, most of the multi-storeyed buildings erected by hotel proprietors were in clear violation of the MDDA’s own regulations (Vij, 2001). In response, public-minded citizen groups attempted using public interest litigation to buttress enforcement through the courts. In 1996, the Supreme Court ruled in their favour, banning construction activities in the sensitive Mussoorie hills (Asian News International, 1998). However, the powerful tourism and hotel lobbies that employ thousands of labourers has continued with their illegal construction in apparent collusion with the MDDA (Asian News International, 1998), prompting the MDDA to be accused in the national press of acting as the “chief architect of Mussoorie’s destruction” (Gantzer, 1997).

Another 2001 investigative report lambasted the MDDA for caving into both the political and financial pressure of the developer lobby, even while its officials harassed local homeowners for minor infractions of the building code (Vij, 2001). As with that other unpopular agency, the Forest Department, this selective enforcement of regulations against citizens and the ability of powerful interests to circumvent the MDDA’s conditions has eroded confidence in the institution and forced citizens to seek redress. In response, the leadership of the MDDA has tried to assuage public frustration by simplifying the regulatory mechanism for small landholders and by vowing to move against the nexus between MDDA officials and big developers who have used their money power to influence and control the planning process (Uniyal, 2002).

Capacity Building for Urban Governance

As such, empowering and democratizing ULBs, both financially and socially, while clearing up the hodge-podge of jurisdictions and responsibilities among various state, central, and local institutions and agencies such as the MDDA remain pressing goals, especially in the face of accelerating urbanization. Effective, efficient, judicious, and above all fair minded functioning would go a long way towards building the public support such institutions desperately need to enforce regulations. Without such backing, the already strained relations between citizen and government will only worsen, leading to greater lawlessness and a deteriorating civic mindedness on the part of ordinary residents.

In fulfillment of its constitutional obligations, the central and state governments did begin forging ahead with the establishment of new governance structures including 31 Nagar Panchayats (town councils), 28 Nagar Palika Parishads (municipal councils), and the lone municipal corporation in the

York University 76 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat state of Uttaranchal. Representing an upgrade in status from town to city, the Dehradun Municipal Corporation began functioning shortly after the state-wide local body elections in February 2003. Though long delayed, the elections proved to be a watershed, as the mayoral position was reserved for a woman under the 74th constitutional amendment guidelines. In addition, both Dehradun Municipal Corporation and Nainital Nagar Palika Parishad were assisted by UNDP in the run up to the elections through its “capacity development for urban governance” program in 2001-2002.

A year later, realizing the adverse impact of Dehradun’s deterioriating environment on the region’s economic potential and as a negative role model for other urban centres throughout Uttarakhand, the newly established municipal corporation in association with large land grant institutions in the city launched a public cleanliness campaign (Nauriyal, 2004). The focus on cleanliness has been a pressing concern of the new municipal administration as witnessed in its strong-armed clearances of encroachment along the central arteries of the city in 2003. However, as noted by groups such as Clean Doon Society, a Dehradun-based NGO, such initiatives have faltered in the past due to flagging interest on the part of the authorities. It remains to be seen whether the city can make a significant impact on the hardened attitudes and behaviours of its inhabitants including citizens and developers alike.

Litigation and Agitation against Limestone Mining

Beyond urban governance and planning processes, the success of the Doon Valley anti-limestone mining campaign of the 1980s did reveal that citizens themselves could play a critical role in setting environmental policy. While forests formed the main backdrop for Chipko’s various struggles over local resource rights and community-based conservation, mining in Uttarakhand has also prompted sharp conflicts in many of the same regions that had witnessed major forest actions. While defensive in nature, anti-mining movements successfully galvanized entire communities while employing a diverse array of tactics beyond simple blockades.

With its major urban component, the agitation against limestone mining has also set a new standard for environmental activism by linking urban and rural interests in a mass movement. From 1955 to 1985, limestone mining at over 100 mine sites in the Mussoorie Hills of Dehradun and Tehri districts led to escalating environmental problems in the Doon Valley, including worsening air and noise pollution over Dehradun city, the disruption and destruction of natural limestone aquifers, deforestation, severe erosion, and heavy siltation of water bodies by minerally-rich runoff from denuded hill sides. Farmers complained about livestock killed by falling debris, the damage done to

York University 77 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat their fields, and the appropriation of their fuel wood, fodder, and water sources by mining interests (Shiva, 1991).

By the 1980s, veteran Chipko activists like Dhoom Singh Negi, fresh from their localized struggles to save the community forests of lower Garhwal, were able to propel the movement against mining to a new stage. While in previous decades, local resistance was weak and sporadic, peaking only in the late 1970s as part of a wave of Chipko actions, the new environmental awareness and organizational experience generated by Chipko was able to provide significant leverage to the struggle. Eventually, due to the intense air pollution and disruption to local farmers’ livelihoods, an alliance of urban activists, environmentalists, and farmers sought recourse in both the courts and through direct action. Veteran Chipko activists from neighbouring Tehri district helped local villagers organize non- violent blockades, rallies, and marches, leading to arrests and beatings at the hands of the police and hired goons. These efforts coupled with the prolonged public interest litigation launched by Avdesh Kaushal of the Rural Litigation and Entitlement Kendra in 1983, finally defeated the powerful mining interests and forced the closure of the mines in and around Mussoorie. The 1985 Supreme Court ruling to this effect is credited for saving the Doon Valley from further devastation caused by the mines (Friends of the Doon Society, 2002). As an added benefit, Kaushal’s intervention enshrined by precedent the right to a clean environment in Indian jurisprudence.

The Stand at Sinsyaru Khala 1986-1987

For localities like Sinsyaru Khala however, the eventual success of public interest litigation and the landmark Supreme Court ruling in 1985 did little to overcome the power of mining interests in their region. Despite the court ruling and the mine’s poor environmental record, an interim injunction was granted allowing mining to proceed in the Nahi-Kala region of Thano pergana. By the end of 1986 and beginning of 1987, villagers and Chipko activists had decided to erect a camp at the mine site. Under the shadow of the Nahi-Barkot mine, the non-violent activists resisted the cold winter months, escalating physical attacks by hired goons, and even arrest warrants from the local courts (Shiva, 1991). However, this did not deter village organizers such as Itwari Devi and Chamandai from continuing their struggle, nor did it prevent thousands of others from joining their blockade. By the summer of 1987, the activists had responded by destroying the road to the quarry site and launching an awareness campaign throughout the hills and the nation’s capital. Eventually, a new petition was filed with the Supreme Court, which agreed to close mine sites such as the one at Sinsyaru Khala for good in 1988 (Routledge, 1993).

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The success at Sinsyaru Khala depended largely on the application of multiple strategies where none alone would have worked. While the celebrated Supreme Court ruling of 1985 left open the original loop hole that allowed mining to continue in the Nahi-Kala, the direct action that followed also suffered from extreme brutalization that would have intimidated a more isolated group. The outreach campaign proved crucial to exposing the violence carried out against the activists and to interesting the Delhi solidarity groups in launching new public interest litigation aimed squarely at the operation of the Nahi-Barkot mine. As such, the struggle in Sinsyaru Khala established a model for subsequent environmental struggles, where local non-violent resistance, outreach to urban groups, and legal action have become the basis for movement building.

The Supreme Court Monitoring Committee

In the aftermath of its 1985 ruling, the Supreme Court of India commissioned a monitoring committee to oversee the closure, reclamation, and as much as possible, the eventual restoration of the mine sites’ original natural state. Constituted in 1988 with the closure of the last mines such as the one at Sinsyaru Khala, the Supreme Court Monitoring Committee (SCMC) included the environment secretary, senior bureaucrats, scientific officers, and dedicated and motivated citizens from Mussoorie and Dehradun. Although it remained answerable to the Supreme Court alone, it engaged large segments of the public in the arduous task of regenerating and revegetating the degraded quarry sites. Under the direction of soil scientists and geologists, students through their school associations and locally-based environmental NGOs mobilized thousands of volunteers, achieving remarkable results in regreening the hills in a short period of time (RLEK, 1996). The SCMC ensured that this work was enabled, and that any new threats were averted.

The mission of the SCMC was also crafted rather broadly, namely to pursue the “restoration of natural normalcy in the Doon Valley”. Under this ambit, the SCMC has broadened its jurisdiction to address other egregious violations of national, state, and local environmental protection laws, including shifts in land use patterns, encroachment into reserve forests, and corruption and negligence on the part of government officials (Friends of the Doon Society, 2002). Its continued role as an environmental monitoring body has earned it praise among environmentalists and a citation from the Supreme Court for its exemplary performance. As an institutionalized response to activist pressures, it also fulfilled its mission remarkably well by networking the resources of its expert body and involving NGOs and activist leaders in its work.

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Limestone Redux: Kataldi 2001-2003

Fifteen years later, the experience of Sinsyaru Khala would be repeated in Kataldi, a small hamlet nestled in the Henwal Valley of Tehri district. Again, the courts initially sided with the mine owners before giving way to environmental concerns. Again, Chipko activists, villagers, and solidarity groups marched together while women blockaded the entry to the mine site. And once again, the government proved unable or unwilling to enforce its environmental laws without direct action and mass agitation.

Kataldi benefited from its proximity to villages that had launched successful Chipko actions during the 1970s and 1980s. The high level of organization and consciousness among the villagers had emerged partly due to the activities of a few remarkable inhabitants and partly because of the intensity of the struggles in the Henwal Valley. In Kataldi, limestone mining that had been underway for five years, was successfully stopped in 1979, leading to a respite from the devastation that was being wrought all over the adjoining hills (Kohli, 2004).

In the 1990s, villagers had to oppose renewed interest in mining in the area. However, by 2001, a mining company was able to procure a lengthy lease over the mine site located above the village of Kataldi as well as on the primary water source for Kataldi and surrounding villages. Not only would this pose an immediate danger to the village, but also impact the region’s rich crop biodiversity that had been carefully nurtured by the Save the Seed movement (Kohli, 2003a). The mine site would also decimate the local forest, saved and nurtured over years of hard struggle by villagers inspired by the Chipko movement. Immediately, the villagers began organizing their response, which led to their first actions in December 2001 that continued well into 2002. Again, as in Chipko, the dharna or sit-in was led by the village women (Kohli, 2003b).

In addition to roughing up the mainly women activists as done in Sinsyaru Khala, the mining company chose to work through the courts. The district court responded positively to the company’s case, recognizing the lease as the green light to continue mining. The mining company also used legal intimidation against the activists through a campaign of baseless allegations and disinformation that had proved so effective in neutralizing the nearby anti-Tehri dam movement (Dogra, 2004). Court cases arising from this campaign would intentionally tie up activists for years as witnessed by the sentencing of two celebrated Chipko veterans, Vijay Jardhari and Kunwar Prasun, to fifteen days in prison in the spring of 2004.

For the greater part of 2002, the court case languished and eventually ended in defeat for the inhabitants of Kataldi. However, another petition was immediately filed in December 2002 on

York University 80 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat behalf of the Sreedhar Ramamurthy of the Academy of Mountain Environics and Kataldi local Mahesh Lakhera that effectively stopped mining until more documents could be obtained that would help clarify the actual ownership of the mine site. A few months later, this was followed up by the belated intervention of the Divisional Forest Officer and Conservator of Forests who claimed that the mine site would require clearance from the central government due to its environmental impact. Eventually, the state high court decided to uphold indefinitely the original moratorium due to the concerns of the forestry officials (Kohli, 2004).

The temporary relief afforded by the courts in September 2003 was a bittersweet victory for Kataldi, as it had more to do with the question of government jurisdiction than with community rights. Despite all the local village leaders opposing the mine, the committee picked by the high court to adjudicate the affair sided with the mine company. Citing that the company had already invested too heavily into the mine to stop, the court failed to consider how the mine might be sited on community forest land governed by the local Van Panchayat. In fact, the damage to the region’s rich biodiversity was largely discounted until the DFO identified the potential impact on the Forest Department’s own plant nurseries.

The Return of Mining

The conflict in Kataldi may signal a return of limestone mining as a serious threat to the entire Himalayan belt. Urban growth and the construction boom in Dehradun and other smaller cities all over Uttarakhand has been consuming an ever-increasing amount of cement and other building materials. The central government’s focus on infrastructure has also fueled this trend. The pressure therefore to open old mine sites closed by environmental action seems to be growing as demonstrated by the district and high court’s rulings in favour of the mining company in the Kataldi case. As such, Kataldi might represent only the first in a new round of agitation against indiscriminate mining in the hills.

Moves in the post statehood period towards decommissioning the SCMC or tampering with its composition and scope have further worried environmentalists. With the pressure on to open new mine sites, they fear that hard earned gains may be at risk of slipping away due the exigencies of the new state’s development priorities. However, these rumblings have elicited a strong response from leading civic groups in the Doon Valley. As population and urban sprawl pressures on the environment continue to mount in the region, organizations such as the Friends of the Doon Society and Clean Doon Society feel that the SCMC’s tasks will only become more critical in the coming years. The Friends of the Doon Society, which was founded in 1983 as a lobby group against

York University 81 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat limestone mining, expanded on this theme by proposing that the SCMC be given a prominent and permanent place in the Dehradun Master Plan for 2001-2020 (MDDA, 2002), while the Clean Doon Society has called for bolstering the SCMC with executive powers so that it can serve as a “strong enforcement authority”. Both groups recognize that the SCMC is a significant institution for the role it played in catalyzing the rejuvenation of the Doon Valley environment. While far from perfect, its supporters have realized that it evolved much like the Van Panchayat system to meet specific needs and that moves to debilitate or supplant it with a new monitoring regime might backfire.

However, due to the failure of the courts to extend the moratorium to Kataldi and other new mine sites, activists and their supporters have established a regional chapter of the watchdog organization, Mines, Minerals, and People. Founded along the lines of organizations set up to monitor large dams, MMP aims to assist local communities with its significant scientific expertise and network of civil society solidarity groups at the regional, national, and international levels. While lacking the judicial heft of the SCMC, MMP hopes to play an important role in policy formation around mining and other extractive activities.

Towards an Urban Chipko

Altogether, the challenges facing Dehradun, the Doon Valley, and smaller urban centres in Uttarakhand are undeniably formidable. As ULBs struggle to establish themselves as institutions of local governance, their democratic credentials will come under serious threat from powerful interests in the region who have hamstrung previous attempts to regulate growth and maintain environmental balance. However, by drawing upon the experience of the anti-mining agitation that itself drew upon the Chipko movement, concerned citizens could boost the civic involvement and vigilance necessary to monitor and act upon growing threats to their quality of life and livelihoods. Either by forming grassroots organizations in their own neighbourhoods or participating in the democratic process at the municipal level, city dwellers can empower themselves to ameliorate their immediate surroundings. Indeed, they can emulate their rural brethren who for over hundred years have been struggling for their rights by various means. City women too can learn from their rural sisters who have repeatedly faced violence and intimidation without fear since their first uprising 30 years ago at Reni. Moreover, the innovation and creativity of NGOs all over Uttarakhand can find their way to the heart of the city’s cultural life and infrastructure, revolutionizing how people commute, commune, and commit to improving their lot through collective action. As such, Chipko’s legacy can finally spread to the city and townspeople of Uttarakhand that have been suffering from an impoverished spirit related to their uprooting from the soil and culture of the land. This will be all

York University 82 Summer 2004 MES Major Paper Rajiv Rawat the more crucial as the urban crisis becomes more and more synonymous with the crisis of democracy and the environment, and hence, the crisis of modern Uttarakhand and modern India.

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Appendix I: Glossaries

Overlapping Definitions and Place Names

The following place names are all associated with Uttarakhand, reflecting its changing boundaries and political identities over time.

Central Himalayas – according to geographical convention, Uttarakhand forms the central axis of the Himalayan range. Himachal Pradesh encompasses the Western Himalayas, while the Eastern Himalayas fall in Eastern Nepal and Bhutan.

Devbhumi – “the abode of gods”, the colloquial term of affection for Uttarakhand.

Garhwal – western portion of Uttarakhand and independent kingdom from 1358 to 1948, also ethnolinguistic term describing the hill people and dialects spoken in Uttarkashi, Tehri, Pauri, Rudraprayag, Chamoli, and Dehradun districts.

Kumaon – Eastern portion of Uttarakhand and kingdom c. 700–1791 / British division 1815 – 1947, also ethnolinguistic term describing the hill people and dialects spoken in Nainital, Almora, Bageshwar, Pithoragarh, and Champawat districts.

Maidan – “Plains”, Maidaini or Deshi refers to plains people. These include the majority of people living in Hardwar, Udham Singh Nagar, and a significant portion of Dehradun district.

Pahar – “Hills”, Pahari refers to hill people, usually only used colloquially as it has developed derogatory connotations.

Terai-Bhabar – a thin belt of land forming the southern edge of Uttarakhand south of the Shivalik range. While the Bhabar is gravelly and dry, the Terai to its south is an alluvial plain that was once extensively covered by malarial swamps. In the post-independence period, settlers cleared the land for the large farms that now characterize its landscape.

Trans Himalayas –refers to the ridges that form the boundary between India and Tibet (China).

Uttarakhand – separate state movement’s preferred name for the state, found in ancient and contemporary literature on the region. Still used by social and cultural activists.

Uttaranchal – name preferred by the ruling party (BJP) at the time of the state’s creation. Chosen for its less separatist connotations and its similarity to other hill state names such as Himachal and

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Arunachal Pradesh. Has over six years established itself officially and socially, despite promises by the state government to change it back to Uttarakhand.

Glossary of Indian Terms

This list of commonly used Hindi terms in development and environmental literature was compiled from various sources in addition to Hindi-English dictionaries. In some cases, the terms have been adapted from their original meanings for modern usage and have been defined here to reflect their widest current application.

GEOGRAPHIC TERMINOLOGY Dhar ridge

Dhura, Khal, La mountain pass (i.e., Niti La – Niti pass)

Ganga river (i.e., Rishi Ganga – Rishi river)

Ghati valley (i.e., Henwalghati – Henwal Valley)

Gram village (i.e., Gram Swaraj – village self-rule)

Khet cultivated field (i.e., Ranikhet – Queen’s Field)

Maidan plains

Naala brook, stream

Nagar town (i.e., Narendra Nagar – Narendra Town)

Pahar hills

Parvatiya mountains

Parbhat peak (i.e., Hathi Parbhat – Elephant Peak)

Pergana county (i.e., Rawain Pergana – Rawain county)

Pradesh province

Prayag confluence of rivers (i.e., Panch Prayag – five confluences)

Rajdhani capital city (i.e., Dehradun)

Rajya state (i.e., Uttarakhand Rajya – Uttarakhand state)

Rashtriya national

Sadak road

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Sagar sea

Tal lake (i.e., Nainital – Naini Lake)

Tehsil subdivision of a district

Van forest (i.e., Van Adhikar – forest rights)

Vidhan state (i.e., Vidhan Sabha – state assembly)

Zamindar feudal estate

Zilla district

ORGANIZATIONAL TERMINOLOGY

Ashram retreat

Abhiyan program, mission

Bhavan house (i.e., Vidhan Bhavan – state assembly house)

Biradari clan, community

Dal group or party

Kendra centre (i.e., Vigyan Shiksha Kendra – Science Education Centre)

Mandal circle, group (i.e., Yuva Mandal – youth circle)

Mangal Dal self-help group

Morcha front (i.e., Jan Sangarsh Morcha – People’s Struggle Front)

Manch forum (i.e., Uttarakhand Mahila Manch – Uttarakhand Women’s Forum)

Mantri government minister (i.e., Mukya Mantri – chief minister)

Nigam corporation (i.e., Van Nigam – Forest Corporation)

Panchayat traditional village council (i.e., Van Panchayat – village forest council)

Palika Parishad municipal council (i.e., Nainital Nagar Palika Parishad – Nainital municipal council)

Pradhan, Sarpanch village head

Pramukh chairperson

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Sabha assembly (i.e., Lok Sabha – people’s assembly/house of commons)

Sahakari cooperative

Samaj social, society (i.e., Samajwadi – socialist)

Samiti committee (i.e., Uttarakhand Kalakar Samiti – Uttarakhand Folk Art Committee)

Sangh collective, brotherhood

Sangathan organization

Sansthan institute

Sarkar government (i.e., Uttaranchal Sarkar –!Uttaranchal government)

Sevak cadre of a political organization

Vahini force

Yojana scheme, program (i.e., Rozgar Yojana – employment scheme)

MOVEMENT TERMINOLOGY

Andolan movement (i.e., Uttarakhand Jan Andolan – Uttarakhand people’s movement)

Bandh closure, strike (i.e., complete bandh indicates a successful shutdown of all activity in a given location)

Bhookh Hartal hunger strike

Chakka Jam blockade of streets or railways

Dhandak customary expression of rebellion (specific to Uttarakhand)

Dharna sit-in

Gherao to surround and prevent from moving

Hartal worker’s strike

Kand police firing, a massacre

Sangarsh struggle, agitation

Satyagraha Gandhian protest

Swadeshi self-reliance

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Swaraj self-rule (i.e., Hind Swaraj –!Indian home rule)

Yatra march, pilgrimage (usually planned and peaceful)

CONCEPTUAL TERMINOLOGY

Adhikar rights (i.e., Manav Adhikar – human rights)

Chetna awareness

Jagriti awakening

Nyaya justice (i.e., Samajik Nyaya – social justice)

Paryavaran environmental

Sahayog mutual support

Sanskriti culture (i.e., Uttarakhand Sanskritic Morcha – Uttarakhand Cultural Front)

Sanyukta joint (i.e., Sanyukta Parvatiya Vikas Samiti – Joint Mountain Development Committee)

Seva service

Shakti power, empowerment

Shiksha education

Sukh prosperity

Suraksha security, protection (i.e., Van Suraksha Samiti – forest protection committee)

Vigyan science

Vidya knowledge

Vikas development, progress (i.e., Lok Vikas – people’s progress)

SOCIAL TERMINOLOGY Adivasi indigenous

Bal child (i.e., Parvatiya Bal Manch – Mountain Children’s Forum)

Dalit literally “the oppressed”, term of empowerment for the lowest castes

Jat caste (colloquial, i.e., bada jat – high caste, chotti jat – low caste)

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Kisan farmer

Mahila women

Mazdoor worker (i.e., khet mazdoor – farm worker)

Scheduled Caste low caste group recognized by the state

Scheduled Tribe non-caste tribal group recognized by the state

Yuva youth

OTHER TERMINOLOGY

Ped tree

Haq-Hakook customary rights

Jal, Pani water (i.e., Jal Padyatra –!water foot march)

Jameen land

Jan, Lok people (i.e., Uttarakhand Jan Jagriti Sansthan – Uttarakhand People’s Awakening Insitute)

Janwar wildlife

Jadi Booti herbs, medicinal plants

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Appendix II Uttarakhand Maps

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Districts & Political Divisions

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River Systems & Prominent Towns

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Historical Map

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Forest Governance

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Population & Gender

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Environmental Crises of the Doon Valley

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Appendix III: Bibliography

Agarwal, A. (1995, January 31). Whose Forest Is It Anyways? Down to Earth. Agarwal, B. (1997). Environmental Action, Gender Equity and Women's Participation. Development & Change, 28(1), 1-44. Agarwal, R. (2002). Divine protection : Villagers in the Kumaon Himalaya discover that gods are, perhaps, the best guards. Down to Earth, 11(11). Agrawal, R. (1999, September 25). Van Panchayats of Uttarakhand. Economic and Political Weekly. Agrawal, R. (2001). Uttarakhand, 'Lath' Panchayats: Fading Away. Economic and Political Weekly, 36(1). Agrawal, R. (2002, September 21). Conserving Forests in Uttarakhand : People's Initiative. Economic and Political Weekly. Ahmed, K. (1999). Forests of Fire. Down To Earth, 8(2). Asian News International. (1998, May 1). Mussoorie fast becoming a concrete jungle. Asian News International. Aryal, M. (1994, January/February). Axing Chipko. Himal, 8-23. Bandyopadhyay, J. (1999). Chipko Movement: of Floated Myths and Flouted Realities. Economic and Political Weekly. Banerjee, K. (1998). NGOs in the Indian Subcontinent. New Delhi, India: Security & Political Risk Analysis. Bhattacharya, S. (2002, February 15). In the hills, out in the cold. Indian Express. Bisht, B. S. (1994). Tribes of India, Nepal, Tibet borderland : a study of cultural transformation. New Delhi: Gyan Pub. House. Calman, L. J. (1992). Toward Empowerment: Women and Movement Politics in India. Boulder: Westview Press. CAWP. (2003). Women in Elective Office 2003: Center for American Women and Politics. Chadha, S. (1999). A people's movement for Indian high Himalayan watershed management - beyond the Chipko movement. Rome: FAO. Chakraborty, M. (1998). Conflict and Participation in Community Based Fresh Water Resource Management: The Case of Chandrabhaga Stream in Garhwal Himalaya, Uttar Pradesh: The World Bank/WBI’s CBNRM Initiative. Chandola, H. (2000, September 15). A Capital question for new state: Dehra Dun or Gairsain. Hindustan Times. Chawii, L. (2001). Back to basics. Down to Earth, 9(23). Cherail, K., Jain, R., & Shrivastava, R. (1994, June 30). How Green Were the Forests? Down to Earth. CHIRAG. (2002). CHIRAG Half Yearly Progress Report (October 2001—March 2002): Integrated Health & Community Welfare Project. Retrieved May 12, 2004, from http://www.canadaindiavillageaid.com/chirag/Spring2002.htm Choe, K., Varley, R. C. G., & Bijlani, H. U. (1996). Coping with Intermittent Water Supply: Problems and Prospects. Dehra Dun, Uttar Pradesh, India (Activity No. 26). Arlington, Va.: Environmental Health Project. Das, A. (2003, September 22). Oh, What A Racket! The hills are alive with the buzz of self-seeking NGOs, many existing only in name. Outlook. Davidson-Hunt, K. (1995). Gender, class, and the commons: A case study from the Indian Himalayas in natural resources management. (No. 3). Calgary, Alberta: The Shastri Indo-Canadian Institute.

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Desai, S. (2002). Green vows and wedding vows : The unique Maiti ritual in the Kumaon hills has made a startling difference to the forest cover in the state of Uttaranchal., from http://www.infochangeindia.org/EnvironmentIstory.jsp?recordno=195§ion_idv=6 Dev Raj, R. (2000, January 31). Women Leaders Thrive on Reputations for Honesty. IPS. Dhanraj, D. (Writer) (1983). Sudesha [VHS]. In F. Films (Producer): Women Make Movies. Dhar, U., Rawat, R. S., Airi, S., Bhatt, I. D., & Samant, S. S. (2002). Promoting outreach through conservation education programmes - Case study from the Indian Himalayan Region. Current Science, 82(7), 808-815. Dhavan, R. (2000, May 19). The Sahayog Affair. The Hindu. Down to Earth. (1993). The tragedy of Reni : How misfortune befell a woman, once hailed as a conqueror, and a village that tried to protect its forests. Down to Earth, 1(23). Dogra, B. (2002, June 5). Whither the Chipko years? The fading gains of Himalayan conservation. IPS. Dogra, B. (2003, July). Women at the wheel. Humanscape. Dogra, B. (2004, June 4). High Voltage Activism Fails to Save Trees. IPS. Farooqui, A. (1997). Colonial forest policy in Uttarakhand, 1890-1928. New Delhi: Kitab Pub. House. Friends of the Doon Society. (2002). Effort at shutting down the Supreme Court Monitoring Committee for the Dehra Dun Valley. Dehra Dun: Friends of the Doon Society. Gadgil, M., & Guha, R. (1995). Ecology and Equity: the use and abuse of nature in contemporary India. New Delhi: Penguin Books India Ltd. Gairola, H., & Sreedhar, R. (1999). People's Forestry Management: From Policy Perspective to Conflict Resolution. Dehradun, India: Academy of Mountain Environics. Gantzer, C. (1997, September 19). Only Downhill for Overbuilt Mussoorie. Times of India. Ghosh, S., & Nangia, R. (1998). Sustainable Development in the Endangered Doon Valley. In P. B. Saxena (Ed.), Himalayan Environment and Sustainable Development (1 ed., Vol. 1). Dehra Dun, India: Surya International. Guha, R. (1993). Personality clashes lead to internal schisms. Down to Earth, 1(23). Guha, R. (1993, July/August). Unquiet Uttarakhand. Himal, 17-18. Guha, R. (2000). The unquiet woods : ecological change and peasant resistance in the Himalaya (Expanded ed.). Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press. Guha, R. (2002, June 2). A Gandhian in Garhwal. The Hindu. Higgins, M. (2000, February 2). World Bank plants seeds for a new forest policy. Environmental News Network. Indian Express. (1999, March 14). Tilting at watermills. Indian Express. Jain, S. (1985). Standing up for the trees: Women's role in the Chipko movement. In S. Sontheimer (Ed.), Women and the Environment: A Reader on Crisis and Development in the Third World. New York: Monthly Review Press. Jardhari, V., & Kothari, A. (1997). Conserving Agricultural Biodiversity: The Case of Tehri Garhwal and Implications for National Policy. In L. Sperling & M. Loevinsohn (Eds.), Using Diversity: Enhancing and Maintaining Genetic Resources On-Farm. Ottawa: International Development Research Centre. Jayan, T. V. (2004). Digging a death-trap : Another attempt to hardsell mining to the developing world? Down to Earth, 12(16). Jena, M. (2004, January). A few good women. India Together. Kannan, K. (1998, October 18). Civilisation takes its toll of Naini Tal. The Hindu.

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Kapoor, A. (2000, February). Hill women succeed where government fails. Humanscape. Kazmi, S. M. A. (1999, September 9). Wealth from weeds and waste. Indian Express. Kazmi, S. M. A. (2002, February 5). Sonia strikes chord in former Cong bastion. Indian Express. Kishwar, M. (2003, March 18). An alternative women's reservation bill. Indian Express. Kohli, K. (2003a). Cultivating diversity. Frontline, 20(20). Kohli, K. (2003b). Life Leased Out. The Ecologist (Asia), 11(2). Kohli, K. (2004, March 28). Mine, not yours: Threatened by limestone quarrying, the people of Hemwalghati launched an agitation to safeguard their livelihood and rights. The Hindu. Kothari, A. (2002). Greening or greenwash? Seminar(516). Kumar, A. (2003). Van Panchayats in Uttaranchal: UN Inter - Agency Working Group on Decentralization (IAWG-D). Kumar, K. (1995). Mountains & People: A People's Perspective from the Indian Himalayas. Paper presented at the NGO Consultations on Sustainable Mountain Development, Lima, Peru. Kumar, P. (2000). The Uttarakhand Movement: Construction of a Regional Identity. New Delhi: Kanishka Publishers. Kunduri, I. (2004, January 29). Fresh strategies needed to increase women’s awareness. Hindustan Times. Kunwar, C. (1999, June 20-26). Role of Mountain Women in Management of Sustainable Eco-System. Paper presented at the Women's Worlds 99: 7th International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women, Tromsø, Norway. Kunwar, C. (2001, September 30-October 4). People's Institutions - The Key to Sustainable Development of Mountains and their People. Paper presented at the World Mountain Symposium 2001, Interlaken, Switzerland. Kunwar, C. (Ed.). (1997). Emancipated Women-Folk of Uttarakhand. Dehradun: Himalayan Action Research Centre. Lakshmi, C. S. (2003, September 7). Emerging Voices. The Hindu. Madan, S., & Rawat, L. (2000). The impacts of tourism on the environment of Mussoorie, Garhwal Himalaya, India. The Environmentalist, 20, 249-255. Malhotra, P. (2003). A People's Movement for Conservation and Livelihoods in Jardhargaon. In Seeds of Hope. New Delhi: SER, Planning Commission (Government of India). Marquand, R. (2000, June 19). Indians pick up strange custom: time off. Christian Science Monitor. Martin, M., & Dutta, M. (1995). Hellfires in the hills : Pauri Garhwal became ghost territory as villagers and the forest department virtually ignored unprecedented forest fires. Down to Earth, 4(4). Mathew, G. (2003, March). Panchayat raj institutions and human rights. PUCL Bulletin. Mawdsley, E. (1998). After Chipko: From Environment to Region in Uttaranchal. The Journal of Peasant Studies, 25(4), 36-54. MDDA. (2002). About Mussoorie Dehradun Development Authority, from gov.ua.nic.in/MDDA/index.htm Mehta, M. (1991, September/October). The Invisible Female: The Women of the UP Hills. Himal, 13-15. Mishra, A., & Tripathi, S. (1978). Chipko movement: Uttarakhand women's bid to save forest wealth. New Delhi: People's Action/Gandhi Book House. Mishra, M. (2000, February 16). Ultrasound test popular in remotest hill pocket. Times of India. Mitra, A. (1993). Chipko: an unfinished mission. Down to Earth, 1(23).

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Sharma, M. (1992). More miles to go for Chipko women. Down to Earth, 1(2). Nauriyal, A. (2004, February 21). Governor makes a sweeping statement. Times of India. Negi, S. (2001, July). Education: a beautiful tree. Paper presented at the India Literacy Project Partners Conference. Negi, S. S. (1995). Uttarakhand: land and people. New Delhi: MD Pub. Nelson, B. (1993, Summer). Chipko Revisited. Whole Earth Review, 116-123. Paget-Clarke, N. (1998, August 14). An interview with Dr. Vandana Shiva. In Motion Magazine. Pal, M. (2000). Uttaranchal : Facing New Challenges. Economic and Political Weekly(December 16). Pande, G. (2004). Invitation to the Askot-Arakot Abhiyan 2004. Nainital: PAHAR. Pande, M. (2001, January 21). Development of Uttaranchal. The Hindu. Pande, P. N. (1996). Drudgery of the Hill Women. New Delhi: Indus Pub. Panwar, J. P. (1996). Here we come, eco-chums! : Indigenous support systems that have been nourishing the Himalaya for centuries have become the current buzzword for progress. Down to Earth, 5(1). Pathak, S. (1991, September-November). Forest Management and People’s Need. Himalaya Today. Phillips, T. (2000). Entering The New Millennium: A Strategic Plan For CHIRAG. Retrieved May 12, 2004, from http://www.canadaindiavillageaid.com/chirag2000.htm Prabhu, N. (1999, July 11). Don't weed them out. Economic Times. PRAGATI. (2003a). Background of Open Forum 2003: Interface meeting for elected women representatives of Uttaranchal, held at Dehradun, from http://www.rlek.org/pragati/backopf.html PRAGATI. (2003b). The Doon Declaration: 13th July 2003, from http://www.rlek.org/pragati/doondec2003.html Prasun, K., & Kainthola, S. (2002, October 1-4). Bonded Labour and Trafficking of Girl-Child among the Kolta: a Case Study. Paper presented at the Celebrating Mountain Women, Thimphu Bhutan. PUCL, U. (2000). Study team tours the Uttaranchal region - attempt to draw contours of development policy in tune with the 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendments. PUCL Bulletin(November). Pushkarna, V. (2002, December 22). Sermon on the mount : The preacher of self-reliance helps Himalayan villagers tap local resources and encourages activities that open up new avenues to their well-being. The Week. Rai, S. (1998). Class, Caste and Gender -- Women in Parliament in India. In Women in Parliament: Beyond Numbers. Stockholm: International IDEA. Rajalakshmi, T. K. (2001). Targeting NGOs. Frontline, 18, September 1 - 14. Ram, J., Kumar, A., & Bhatt, J. (2004). Plant diversity in six forest types of Uttaranchal, Central Himalaya, India. Current Science, 86(7), 975-978. Rangan, H. (1996). From Chipko to Uttaranchal : development, environment, and social protest in the Garhwal, Himalayas, India. In R. Peet & M. Watts (Eds.), Liberation ecologies :!environment, development, social movements. London: Routledge. Rangan, H. (2000). Of myths and movements : rewriting Chipko into Himalayan history. London ; New York: VERSO. Rawat, A. S. (1989). History of Garhwal, 1358-1947: an erstwhile kingdom in the Himalayas. New Delhi: Indus Pub. Co. Ray, P. (2003). Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan: A Silent Revolution in the Himalayan Foothills. In Seeds of Hope. New Delhi: SER, Planning Commission (Government of India).

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RLEK. (1996, November 13-19). Saving a valley, Supreme Court judgments on Mussoorie Limestone quarrying case. Paper presented at the National Workshop on Legal Defence in Environment Protection and Empowerment of Women. Routledge, P. (1993). Terrains of resistance : nonviolent social movements and the contestation of place in India. Westport, Conn.: Praeger. Roychowdhury, A., & Ghosh, C. (1999, May 4). Environmentalists are threatened with rs 100 crore legal suit by TELCO. CSE Press Release. Saigal, S. (2001, December). Jungle book: An Analysis of the Status, Limitations and Potential of the more than a Decade Old Joint Forest Management Programme. Humanscape, 8. Saklani, A. (1987). The history of a Himalayan princely state : change, conflicts and awakening : an interpretative history of princely state of Tehri Garhwal, U.P., A.D. 1815 to 1949 A.D (1st ed.). Delhi: Durga Publications. Sandhu, K. (2000, December 27). Air, water pollution in Dehra Dun. The Tribune. Sandhu, K. (2000, September 9). Eco-friendly method to check ‘kurri'. The Tribune (India). Saravanan, V. S. (2003). Uttaranchal: Opportunities for Cooperation. Economic and Political Weekly(January 4). Sarin, M. (2001a). Disempowerment in the name of 'participatory' forestry? - Village forests joint management in Uttarakhand, India. Forests, Trees and People Newsletter(44). Sarin, M. (2001b). Revised Van Panchayat Rules, 2001, and Impacts of VJFM on Van Panchayats in Uttarakhand. Bhawali, Uttaranchal: Sainion Ka Sangathan. SBMA. (1998). Shri Bhuvaneshwari Mahila Ashram (SBMA). Retrieved March 28, 2004, from http://www.mtnforum.org/resources/library/sbmas98a.htm Sekhsaria, P. (2003, February 23). Can this save the forests? The Hindu. Sethi, N. (2001). Cradling an Uncertain Future : The people of Uttaranchal are resisting the government’s attempt to wrest control of the van panchayat forests they have nurtured for decades. Down to Earth, 10(12). Shackleton, S., Campbell, B., Wollenberg, E., & Edmunds, D. (2002). Devolution of Community-Based Natural Resource Management: Creating Space for Local People to Participate and Benefit? (No. 76): Overseas Development Institute. Sharma, A., & Sinha, A. (1993). A Study of the Common Property Resources in the Project Area of the Central Himalaya Rural Action Group. Bhopal: Indian Institute of Forest Management. Sharma, M. (2001). Landscapes and Lives: Environmental Dispatches on Rural India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Shiva, V. (1988). Staying alive : women, ecology, and survival in India. New Delhi: Kali for Women. Shiva, V. (1991). Ecology and the politics of survival : conflicts over natural resources in India. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Shiva, V., & Bandyopadhyay, J. (1986). Chipko: India's civilisational response to the forest crisis. New Delhi: INTACH. Singh, J. (2003, November 20). Women on the rise in Indian elections. BBC World News. Sitling, J., & Devi, R. (2002, June 4 - 6). Van Panchayats in Uttaranchal State, India: Present Day Challenges for Village Forest Management for Traditional Forest Users. Paper presented at the Global Perspectives on Indigenous Peoples' Forestry: Linking Communities, Commerce and Conservation, Vancouver, Canada. The Hindu. (2004, June 16). Panchayat chiefs seek more powers. The Hindu. Tiwari, D. P. (2002, August 7-9). Challenges in Urban Planning for local bodies in India. Paper presented at the Map Asia 2002, Bangkok, Thailand.

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Uniyal, M. (1999). Fleeing the Mountains. In Tough Terrain – media reports on mountain issues (pp. 124). Kathmandu, Nepal: PANOS South Asia. Uniyal, R. (2002, October). Interview with M.S. Sandhu, Vice-Chairman of the MDDA. Yugwani. Uprety, A. (2003, December 14). The rock of the Doon Valley : Law is his weapon in his feisty crusade for empowerment. The Week. Vij, B. (2001, February 18). Builders flout SC ban to make Mussoorie `unsafe'. Indian Express. Vyasalu, P., & Vyasalu, V. (2000). Women in the Panchayati Raj: Grassroots Democracy in India. In L. Hamadeh-Banerjee & P. Oquist (Eds.), Women's Participation and Good Governance: 21st Century Challenges: UNDP. Weber, T. (1987). Hugging the trees: the story of the Chipko movement. New Delhi: Viking. Yadav, K. P. S. (2003). A mountain to climb : Uttaranchal has its work cut out as it embarks on industrialisation. Down to Earth, 12(7).

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