BENGALURU: In his latest book, Speaking with Nature: The Origins of Indian Environmentalism (HarperCollins; `799), historian Ramachandra Guha takes readers on a journey through India’s environmental past – a legacy that few are familiar with.
Challenging the prevalent notion that environmental consciousness is a recent, Western import, Guha uncovers a lineage of Indian thinkers who, long before ‘sustainability’ became a buzzword, grappled with the need for a balanced relationship with nature.
Through their lives and writings, these figures – ranging from the poet Rabindranath Tagore to the economist J C Kumarappa – anticipated the environmental challenges we face today and crafted a vision of coexistence that Guha calls ‘livelihood environmentalism.’
This form of environmentalism, Guha argues, is not born out of luxury. It’s not the ‘full-stomach environmentalism’ of the affluent West, who often focus on protecting aesthetic landscapes or endangered species. “In the environmental movement, both in India and abroad, there’s a trend where people focus only on beautiful landscapes or endangered species that need to be protected, which I’d call ‘speaking for nature’,” Guha observes.
In contrast, the Indian pioneers in his book fought for environmental practices rooted in survival, community well-being, and equitable resource access.
“Each of these ‘thinkers’ came from a varied professional background: several were writers, a few were social activists within the Gandhian tradition, at least three were scientists, and one was a naturalist,” says Guha.
“They each bring their own distinct perspective, and only one of them was explicitly religious. But there’s this common thread of intertwining human social justice with environmental sustainability. Almost all of them, in some way, embody the idea of ‘speaking with nature’ rather than for nature. They saw human beings as part of nature itself,” he explains.
“The title Speaking with Nature captures their essence – they weren’t merely advocating for nature as a separate entity but saw it as an essential part of human life and communal well-being.”
Colonialism, which brought rapid industrialisation and urbanisation to India, serves as a crucial backdrop in Speaking with Nature, which spans the late 19th and 20th centuries. It was a period of intense ecological devastation that spurred these pioneers to envision a sustainable, distinctly Indian approach to development.
“Environmentalism, as we know it, couldn’t have been conceived before the 19th century. Only after the Industrial Revolution, when human beings moved from villages to cities, and large factories and technologies like the steam
engine and aeroplane came into play, powered by fossil fuels, did environmental devastation become serious enough to threaten humanity itself,” Guha explains.
“Colonialism brought large-scale industrialisation and urbanisation, which intensified environmental destruction. I call it an ‘ecological watershed’ in the book because it greatly accelerated the pace of environmental degradation. Colonialism introduced new technologies and laws that led to a host of problems affecting human communities, cities, and forests,” he continues.
“Many of these thinkers observed how colonialism was not just a system of economic exploitation but also one of ecological devastation. They argued that India needed to carve out its own path. Unlike Europe and America, which industrialised successfully with access to colonies, India doesn’t have that advantage, so it has to be much more prudent in its development journey.”
Guha connects these historical insights to present-day challenges, suggesting that they offer a valuable lesson for sustainable development. He draws a cautionary parallel between colonial resource extraction and contemporary urban practices. “It underscores the importance of decentralisation and community-based resource use,” he explains.
“When large, centralised systems – whether factories or cities – are built, they end up drawing on resources from vast surrounding areas,”
Guha says. “Let’s take Bengaluru as an example. Historically, it relied on over a hundred lakes for its water needs. But as it grew, it began to exhaust those sources and drew water from farther and farther away, first from the Arkavathi River, then the Cauvery River. Now there is a plan to supply water to Bengaluru from the Sharavathi River, which is a long distance away. This is also a form of colonialism, where cities exploit rural resources,” he notes.
“Today, the central Indian forests provide the vast majority of minerals that drive the country’s economy. The adivasis and locals there have no right to those resources. The lesson is one of scale: development should be balanced with community needs and resource conservation. These thinkers argued that humanity’s survival depends on its ability to harmonise with nature, not dominate it.”