When the Forest Rights Act (FRA) was enacted in 2006, it was hailed as a landmark law meant to correct historical wrongs inflicted on India’s tribal communities. It promised recognition of their right to cultivate forest land and protection from routine harassment caused by lack of land papers. But nearly two decades later, the gulf between promise and reality remains wide. While the government cites achievements, communities across the country point to neglect, rejection, and even eviction.
In Parliament this year, the government disclosed that as of May 31, 2025, a total of 5.1 million claims had been filed under FRA. Out of these, 2.3 million individual rights claims and 121,705 community titles were granted. But the darker side of this data is that 1.8 million claims were rejected outright and 0.7 million remained pending. Numbers alone conceal the frustration on the ground.
Take the recent protest at Jantar Mantar in Delhi, where Adivasi groups from the Kota area of Bilaspur in Chhattisgarh alleged that despite repeated submissions, their claims were rejected while their huts were demolished and families harassed. When the very law meant to secure dignity ends up intensifying suffering, it signals not implementation failure but betrayal.
The danger is not only administrative apathy. In many regions, constitutional protections for tribal land are being undermined by commercial interests. In Assam, for instance, the state government recently allotted nearly 3,000 bighas (about 990 acres) in Dima Hasao district to a private company for a cement factory. The Gauhati High Court expressed serious concern, noting that this Sixth Schedule area should have prioritized the rights of local tribal communities. Such decisions expose how development models can override both legal and moral safeguards, leaving vulnerable populations even more insecure.
Equally troubling is the narrative advanced by some conservation lobbies opposing FRA on the grounds that it harms forests. This argument ignores reality. Far from being destroyers, tribal communities have historically been custodians of forests. There is vast potential to combine their livelihoods with regeneration of degraded forests—if only policymakers approached the issue with imagination and sincerity.
The Forest Rights Act was never just a legal reform; it was a promise of justice and survival. If large-scale rejections and forced evictions become its legacy, then India will have transformed a historic opportunity into a source of renewed injustice. Monitoring must therefore go beyond statistics. It must ask whether tribal livelihoods and dignity have improved or declined.
A law born to heal historical wounds should not end up creating fresh ones. For the tribal communities of India, this is not about paperwork—it is about life itself. Ensuring that the FRA delivers on its promises is not only a legal responsibility but a moral imperative.
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The writer is Honorary Convener, Campaign to Save Earth Now. His recent books include Protecting Earth for Children, Planet in Peril, Man over Machine, and A Day in 2071.
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