Skip to main content

Submerging dissent: The true cost of Arunachal’s hydropower rush

​By Lohit Sharma* 
​For decades, the turbulent waters of Arunachal Pradesh’s river valleys have mirrored the simmering unrest along their banks. From the Siang to the Subansiri and the Dibang, the state’s relentless pursuit of mega-hydropower has pitted central infrastructure targets against the lived realities of indigenous communities. What planners in New Delhi and Itanagar view merely as untapped gigawatts, local inhabitants revere as sacred rivers, ancestral homelands, and delicate riverine ecosystems. Yet, as legitimate grassroots resistance to these colossal projects mounts, democratic dialogue is increasingly being replaced by the coercive machinery of the state.
This clash is neither sudden nor unfounded. The fault lines became glaringly apparent in the mid-2000s with the 2,000 MW Lower Subansiri project straddling the Assam–Arunachal border. Spearheaded by groups such as the Subansiri Bachao Samiti, the Krishak Mukti Sangram Samiti, and the All Assam Students’ Union, downstream populations warned of catastrophic flood hazards, seismic vulnerabilities in a fragile Himalayan terrain, and devastating biodiversity loss. Those warnings proved prescient in 2008, when unannounced water releases and sudden flooding catalyzed massive public outrage. A parallel struggle unfolded in the Dibang valley, where the Idu-Mishmi community mounted fierce resistance against the 2,880 MW Dibang Multipurpose Project, enduring compromised public hearings and heavy security deployments. In 2022, the Gauhati High Court vindicated years of local litigation—including public interest petitions led by the Siang Indigenous Farmers’ Forum (SIFF)—by cancelling dozens of planned dam memorandums in the Siang basin over severe procedural irregularities.
​Today, the battleground has shifted to the proposed Siang Upper Multipurpose Project (SUMP). Framed as a "national-level project," state authorities insist on pushing ahead, but for indigenous Adi communities across villages such as Parong, Geku, Beging, Komkar, and Riew, the undertaking represents an existential threat: permanent displacement, cultural erasure, and the complete absence of Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC). Between 2024 and 2026, rather than addressing these grievances through consultative democratic forums, the government deployed Central Armed Police Forces (CAPF) to force through Pre-Feasibility Report (PFR) surveys, meeting peaceful village marches, rallies, and blockades with sheer intimidation.
​Even more troubling is the systematic weaponization of legal instruments against community leaders and advocates. Activists and human rights lawyers, including Ebo Mili, Dugge Apang, and Bhanu Tatak, have faced relentless harassment:
​Pre-emptive Incarceration: In July 2024, Mili and Apang were detained under the preventive provisions of the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS) simply to clear the ground ahead of a visit by the Union Power Minister.
​Mobility Restrictions: In September 2025, Bhanu Tatak was stopped at Delhi Airport and barred from traveling to Ireland for an academic fellowship at Dublin City University due to an arbitrary "lookout circular" initiated by the state police.
​Institutional Intimidation: By mid-2026, this pattern escalated to federal scrutiny, with the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) initiating a Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act case against Tatak over alleged overseas funding of ₹17.6–20.94 lakh.
​Coupled with Chief Minister Pema Khandu’s warning of disciplinary action against government employees who voice opposition, the administrative objective is unmistakable: criminalize dissent and compel submission.
​This trajectory cuts directly against the grain of the Indian Constitution. Article 19 guarantees every citizen the fundamental right to freedom of speech, expression, and peaceful assembly. In a constitutional democracy, criminal culpability does not arise from holding banners, organizing rallies, or challenging developmental orthodoxy; it arises only when assemblies actively incite violence or destroy public order. None of the peaceful demonstrations led by SIFF or Adi Bané Kébang United have crossed that threshold. To deploy preventive detention, travel bans, and financial probes against citizens defending their ancestral commons is a profound subversion of democratic governance.
​True development cannot be coerced at gunpoint or secured through administrative silencing. If mega-dams are to be justified in the national interest, the state must first prove its case to the people whose land and lives hang in the balance. Drop the punitive cases against community leaders, withdraw paramilitary garrisons from the villages, and recognize that indigenous voices have an equal, inviolable right to determine the future of their own homeland.
---
​Lohit Sharma is a social activist based in Arunachal Pradesh

Comments

TRENDING

From margins to microphones: The rise of Dalit hip-hop in India

By Tersina Maria Toppo*  A protest does not always arrive as a slogan shouted from a street corner. Sometimes, it arrives on a beat. A microphone replaces the megaphone, a music video becomes a public square, and the smartphone becomes the space where a history once pushed to the margins is narrated, debated, and shared.

Xi Jinping’s visit to USA: Recognition that China can't be contained?

By Vijay Prashad   President Xi Jinping’s forthcoming visit to the United States must be understood as more than an encounter between two heads of state, but it must be seen as an encounter between two possible futures. In one future, the United States imposes a spiral of confrontation against China. Trade disputes harden into economic warfare, then economic warfare intensifies into technological blockades, technological blockades produce military encirclement, and finally military encirclement creates incidents, and incidents the danger of becoming an unimaginable war.

The donation trail: From American schools to churches and temples

By Rajiv Shah The other day, I was talking with a non-resident Indian (NRI) in a middle-level city off the eastern coast of the United States. The tête-à-tête took place as we were returning from a religious ceremony at a well-established Hindu temple, where several hundred NRIs had participated, many of them actively.