In the heart of Arunachal Pradesh, the Siang River flows not just as a source of water but as a sacred lifeline—revered by the Adi tribe as “Aane Siang,” the Mother River. Today, this river stands at the center of a fierce and growing resistance against the proposed Siang Upper Multipurpose Project (SUMP), a hydroelectric mega-dam that threatens to submerge ancestral lands, displace entire communities, and irreversibly alter the fragile ecosystem of the eastern Himalayas.
The recent Pre-Feasibility Report (PFR) for the SUMP has ignited outrage among indigenous communities, particularly the Adi people in Siang and Upper Siang districts. The proposed dam, with a reservoir capacity of 9 billion cubic meters and a projected output of 11,000 MW, is set to become India’s largest hydroelectric project. But its scale comes at a devastating cost: the complete submergence of 27 villages, the impact on up to 300 more, and the displacement of potentially millions of people. For the Adi, this is not merely a development issue—it is a desecration of a deity, a violation of cultural sanctity, and a threat to their very existence.
The cautionary tale of the Kaptai Dam in Bangladesh looms large. Built to generate just 230 MW of electricity, it flooded 655 square kilometers and displaced around 100,000 people—mostly Chakma and Hajong tribes. Many fled to India, where they remain marginalized decades later. Despite promises of land-for-land compensation, most received little or nothing. The SUMP, exponentially larger in scale, risks repeating—and amplifying—this tragedy. Where will the displaced Adi people go? What refuge will they find?
Environmental concerns compound the crisis. Arunachal Pradesh lies in Seismic Zone V, the highest-risk category for earthquakes in India. The region’s vulnerability is intensified by climate change, glacial melt, and deforestation. The Teesta III project in Sikkim offers a grim precedent: despite opposition from the Lepcha community, over 100 hectares of forest were cleared, destabilizing the ecosystem. In October 2023, a glacial lake outburst flood from South Lhonak Lake killed 42 people, displaced over 10,000, and triggered secondary flooding across West Bengal and Bihar. The SUMP, projected to clear 1,500–2,000 hectares of forest, could unleash similar disasters.
The Siang River itself is a biodiversity hotspot and a major tributary of the Brahmaputra. Large dams disrupt riverine ecosystems, destroy aquatic habitats, and alter water flow. The Ranganadi project, operational since 2001, has already caused downstream flooding and ecological degradation in Assam. The SUMP threatens to magnify these impacts, with no clear plan for post-construction environmental assessments.
Social and cultural displacement is equally alarming. The Adi community’s connection to the land is spiritual and ancestral. Farming is their primary livelihood, and the loss of land means the loss of identity. Promises of financial compensation, as seen in the Dibang Valley project, have failed to address these deeper concerns. The absence of free, prior, and informed consent (FPIC) violates international norms, including the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
The government’s response has been marked by repression. Central Armed Police Forces have been deployed to facilitate surveys, and incidents like the burning of a bridge in Beging village reflect the desperation of locals. Offers of cash for consent, legal action against activists like Ebo Mili, and suspension of village heads reveal a pattern of coercion. The National Human Rights Commission’s intervention on June 2, 2025, underscores the gravity of the situation.
Arunachal Pradesh has a long history of anti-dam resistance—from Subansiri to Dibang—and the protests against SUMP are part of this continuum. The arrest of lawyer Ebo Mili and artist Nilim Mahanta for painting “No More Dams” in 2022 exemplifies the state’s intolerance for dissent.
The call from the Siang region is clear: end the construction of large dams in the fragile Himalayas. Sustainable alternatives like small-scale hydropower, solar, and wind energy must be prioritized. These can meet energy needs without sacrificing ecosystems or communities. The Siang River is not a resource to be exploited—it is a cultural and ecological treasure to be protected.
As local voice, poignantly puts it: this is a faint cry for justice, for preservation, and for dignity. Will it be heard?
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