A River Is Not A Sacrifice: Arunachal Pradesh Does Not Owe India A Dam At The Cost Of Its People

There is something deeply disturbing about the way some people on social media have responded to the protests against the proposed Siang Upper Multipurpose Project in Arunachal Pradesh. From the comfort of their homes, far removed from the mountains, forests and river valleys that would bear the consequences, they have found it remarkably easy to lecture the people of Arunachal Pradesh about development, patriotism and national interest. Some have gone further, ridiculing those opposing the project, as though questioning a government proposal were an act of betrayal.

It is an extraordinary display of misplaced nationalism. Apparently, for some, patriotism means applauding every large infrastructure project announced in the name of the nation, while questioning the consequences is treated as an inconvenience that must be silenced.

But before anyone sitting in Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru or elsewhere decides to lecture the people of Arunachal Pradesh, there is a rather simple question worth asking: if the project goes wrong, whose homes, farmland, forests and lives will be affected first? The people making triumphant social media posts, or the communities living along the Siang?

The proposed 11,200 MW Siang Upper Multipurpose Project is no ordinary hydropower installation. It is envisioned as one of India’s largest dam projects, with a massive storage component on the Siang River in Upper Siang district.

The government has defended it on the grounds of electricity generation, flood moderation and, increasingly, national security, particularly in view of China’s plans for a massive hydropower project on the Yarlung Tsangpo upstream in Tibet.

The strategic concern is not imaginary. China’s growing control over infrastructure along the upper reaches of a river that eventually becomes the Brahmaputra deserves serious attention from New Delhi. India cannot afford to be indifferent to developments upstream, particularly when the river crosses an international border before entering its territory.

But acknowledging a genuine national security concern does not mean accepting every proposed response to it without scrutiny. Nor does it mean that Arunachal Pradesh must become the geographical sacrifice zone in a strategic contest between two countries.

China Argument Cannot Be A Licence To Ignore The People Of Arunachal Pradesh

The argument that India needs a massive dam to counter China’s proposed project deserves considerably more examination than it has received in public debate. How exactly will the Indian project protect downstream communities? What are the known operational details of the Chinese project? What happens under different scenarios involving water releases, sediment loads, and seasonal river flows? How much protection can the proposed reservoir realistically provide?

These are not anti-national questions. They are the questions that any responsible government should answer before committing to an undertaking of this magnitude.

Himanshu Thakkar of the South Asia Network on Dams, Rivers and People has questioned the assumption that the proposed Indian project will automatically counter the risks posed by China’s upstream infrastructure.

He has also stressed the need for India to obtain detailed information from Beijing and examine the actual implications of the Chinese project rather than proceed on assumptions.

There is a difference between preparing for a strategic threat and allowing that threat to become a justification for imposing an enormous project on communities that have not accepted its consequences.

And this brings us to the people who will actually have to live with the dam.

For the Adi community, the Siang is not simply a river whose value can be calculated in megawatts, cubic metres of stored water or projected economic returns. It is deeply connected to their cultural identity, ancestral land, traditional livelihoods and spiritual beliefs. They refer to it as Ane Siang, or Mother Siang. Their relationship with the river cannot be reduced to a monetary figure in a rehabilitation package.

The fear extends beyond losing a few houses or agricultural plots. The proposed reservoir could submerge entire villages and fertile agricultural land, disrupt traditional irrigation systems and displace communities from places where their families have lived for generations.

The Siang Indigenous Farmers’ Forum has estimated that 27 villages could be submerged and dozens of others affected, with between one lakh and 1.5 lakh indigenous people facing displacement or other consequences. These estimates come from the organisation and must be independently verified. But they are hardly concerns that can be dismissed with a sarcastic social media comment.

What happens to a community when its ancestral settlements disappear beneath a reservoir? Where does one relocate a culture? How does one compensate people for the loss of traditional knowledge, customary relationships with forests and rivers, sacred places and a landscape that has shaped their identity for centuries?

A compensation cheque cannot answer every question. Nor can the promise of a model village recreate what has been lost.

The Earthquake Question Is Not Scaremongering. It Is A Scientific Concern

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the debate is how casually some people dismiss the region’s geographical and geological realities.

The proposed project is located in the eastern Himalayan region, an area of exceptionally high seismic activity. The project site falls in Seismic Zone V under India’s seismic zonation framework, the country’s highest earthquake-hazard category. This is not an allegation invented by anti-dam activists. It is a recognised classification that demands serious attention from engineers, geologists, and policymakers.

The eastern Himalayas have experienced some of the most powerful earthquakes recorded in the region.

The 1950 Assam–Tibet earthquake, estimated at around magnitude 8.4–8.7 depending on the scientific source and method of calculation, remains a sobering reminder of the immense tectonic forces operating across this landscape.

The 1947 Arunachal–Tibet earthquake, too, forms part of the region’s seismic history.

The danger is not simply that an earthquake could damage a dam. A massive reservoir in a tectonically active mountain region raises a much wider set of questions.

Reservoir-induced seismicity is a recognised scientific phenomenon in which the filling of a reservoir and the resulting changes in water pressure and stress conditions can potentially influence seismic activity along existing faults. This does not mean that every large reservoir triggers earthquakes, nor does a Zone V classification establish that a particular dam will fail. But it does mean that the geological conditions cannot be treated as a minor technical consideration.

There are other interconnected risks. Earthquakes can trigger landslides. Landslides can enter reservoirs, displace enormous volumes of water and potentially generate destructive waves. Slope instability, sedimentation and extreme rainfall can complicate reservoir operations.

In a Himalayan catchment exposed to changing climatic conditions, the possibility of glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs), sudden cloudbursts and extreme river flows must also be examined.

The 2021 Chamoli disaster in Uttarakhand and the destruction it caused to hydropower infrastructure should have taught us something about the vulnerability of large infrastructure in mountain environments. The Himalayas are not a landscape in which engineering assumptions should be made lightly.

In June 2025, a collective of 114 scientists, researchers and practitioners called for the suspension of construction-related, survey and pre-clearance activities associated with the Siang project.

Their concerns included earthquake-triggered landslides, dam failure, reservoir-induced seismicity, climate-related hazards and the ecological consequences of large-scale intervention.

Their intervention deserves attention. These are not simply villagers expressing apprehension about an unfamiliar government proposal. Scientists and environmental practitioners have raised questions that require independent investigation and transparent answers.

A government that is confident about the project’s safety should welcome rigorous scrutiny. It should not expect people to accept assurances in place of publicly accessible scientific evidence.

And What About Assam And The Rest Of The Northeast?

The Siang does not end in Arunachal Pradesh. It flows into Assam, where it becomes part of the mighty Brahmaputra system, one of the most important river systems in the region. The consequences of a project on this scale therefore cannot be discussed as though they concern only one district or one state.

Changes in river flows, sediment transport, aquatic ecosystems and downstream hydrology can have implications far beyond the immediate reservoir area. The Brahmaputra sustains agricultural communities, wetlands, fisheries, riverine habitats and settlements across Assam. Its floodplains are already exposed to recurring floods, erosion and the consequences of changing rainfall patterns.

A large storage project may be presented as an instrument for flood moderation, but that claim must be tested against actual hydrological modelling, extreme-event scenarios and the cumulative effects of other dams and infrastructure projects across the basin.

The question is not whether a reservoir can regulate water under certain operating conditions. It is whether the project will remain safe and effective under the full range of foreseeable circumstances, including extreme rainfall, seismic events, sediment influx and possible upstream disturbances.

And if the answers remain uncertain, the people of Assam have every reason to demand scrutiny as well.

It would be irresponsible to claim that the proposed dam will inevitably cause a catastrophe across the entire Northeast. Equally irresponsible, however, would be to pretend that a project of this magnitude on the main river system feeding the Brahmaputra has no implications beyond the immediate construction site.

The Northeast should not have to wait for an environmental disaster to establish that its rivers, mountains and communities deserve protection.

People Of Arunachal Are Not Outsiders In Their Own Homeland

This is perhaps the part of the debate that those ridiculing the protesters need to understand most urgently.

The people of Arunachal Pradesh do not need to prove their patriotism by surrendering their ancestral land. They do not become less Indian because they question a project proposed by the Government of India. And they certainly do not need lectures on national development from people who will never have to leave their homes if the reservoir submerges the villages of the Siang valley.

There is a particularly ugly arrogance in assuming that people who oppose a project must be ignorant, politically manipulated or opposed to progress. Such arguments do not answer their concerns; they merely attempt to delegitimise the people raising them.

It is also worth remembering that resistance to large dams in Arunachal Pradesh is not a sudden political development. Opposition to major hydropower interventions in the Siang basin has a history stretching back many years. The concerns have persisted across governments, political parties and changing national security narratives.

The traditional Adi village councils, including the Kebang, have provided a forum for communities to discuss decisions affecting their collective future. In August 2025, a rare Bogung Bokang Kebang brought together Adi representatives from different areas to discuss and oppose the proposed project. This is not a trivial gathering that can be brushed aside as a handful of misinformed individuals.

A March 2026 study published by the Centre of Excellence for Himalayan Studies at Shiv Nadar University examined the opposition and highlighted the importance of indigenous rights, customary institutions and community participation in decisions involving large national projects.

When communities repeatedly express concerns about their land, livelihoods, and cultural survival, the appropriate response is not to lecture them about electricity generation. It is to listen.

The state cannot speak of inclusive development while treating the people who will bear its consequences as obstacles to overcome.

This is not an argument against development. Arunachal Pradesh deserves roads, hospitals, schools, reliable electricity, employment opportunities, better connectivity and economic investment. The Northeast has waited far too long for development that translates into tangible improvements in people’s lives.

But development cannot be measured solely by the size of a power station or the number of megawatts it promises to generate. It must also be measured by the lives it improves, the livelihoods it protects and the environmental costs it avoids.

And if the price of a project is the displacement of indigenous communities, the destruction of irreplaceable landscapes and the acceptance of potentially serious geological and ecological risks, then the country has an obligation to ask whether there are better alternatives.

National Security Cannot Come At The Cost Of Silencing Local People

The latest developments surrounding the Siang project make this question even more pressing. In October 2026, protests intensified after security personnel were deployed to facilitate pre-feasibility surveys and drilling. The detention of protesters and clashes in the region have further deepened tensions.

Violence, vandalism and attacks on public property cannot be justified. Peaceful opposition must remain peaceful, and those responsible for violence must be held accountable through due process. But condemning violence must not become an excuse to dismiss the underlying grievances of an entire community.

A government cannot manufacture consent through pressure. Nor can it assume that completing a survey is the same as obtaining the people’s acceptance of the project.

As of October 29, 2026, the project was still at the pre-feasibility survey stage. That means there is still an opportunity to examine its viability, assess its consequences independently and engage with affected communities before taking irreversible decisions.

The government must publish the relevant scientific and technical findings, including independent seismic assessments, geological investigations, reservoir-induced seismicity studies, landslide susceptibility assessments, GLOF scenarios and downstream hydrological modelling. It must also establish the actual scale of displacement, forest loss and livelihood disruption through transparent, independently scrutinised studies.

Most importantly, the voices of the affected communities must carry real weight. Consultation cannot be a formality conducted after the fundamental decision has already been made.

Those who are so eager to defend the dam should also be willing to answer a few uncomfortable questions. Would they be equally enthusiastic if their own ancestral villages were marked for submergence? Would they be so dismissive if their families had to abandon their land and livelihoods? Would they still call the protesters anti-development if they themselves were the ones being asked to pay the price?

It is easy to be generous with someone else’s land. It is easy to demand sacrifice when it is somebody else’s home that will disappear beneath the water.

The Siang belongs to a landscape and a people whose relationship with the river predates the present political debate. Its waters eventually join the Brahmaputra, sustaining communities far beyond Arunachal Pradesh. The responsibility to protect this river system cannot be reduced to a contest between nationalism and opposition.

India’s strength does not lie in forcing its people to accept every project proposed in its name. It lies in having the wisdom to recognise that national interest includes the security, dignity, rights and survival of the people who inhabit its borderlands.

Those who are mocking the people of Arunachal Pradesh should perhaps spend less time questioning their patriotism and more time understanding their fears. They should read the scientific concerns, examine the seismic realities and consider the consequences for the Brahmaputra basin before declaring the matter settled.

A country cannot claim to protect its territory while treating the people who have lived on that land for generations as expendable.

The people of Arunachal Pradesh are not asking for permission to love their land. They are asking that their land, their river and their future not be decided without them. That is not anti-nationalism. That is a demand for justice.

And if a project of this magnitude cannot proceed without overriding the concerns of the very people who stand to lose the most, perhaps it is the project that needs to be questioned, not the people opposing it.

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