Development and disasters often go hand in hand. This year’s monsoon havoc in the Himalayan states and landslides in the Western Ghats indicate that the development models adopted in mountainous and hilly regions across India are flawed. It is against this backdrop that the unrest in Ladakh, aimed at special protection for this ecologically fragile border region, can be viewed.
Ladakh has witnessed the damage that mining, tourism, unplanned urbanisation and infrastructure development have wrought in neighbouring mountainous terrains. So, without going into the merits of the crackdown on the protestors in Leh on September 24, let’s consider their argument.
Ladakh is a cold desert, home to life-giving glaciers and highly susceptible to climate change. Already vulnerable to flash floods and landslides, it cannot afford large-scale anthropogenic intrusion that could further destabilise the ecological balance.
Fears of a nationalist project of development that foregrounds tourism, cash crops, mining, energy and infrastructure at the cost of traditional agriculture and local livelihoods are very real. Nowhere in the country have efforts towards an environmentally sustainable and culturally appropriate development model proved successful.
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For example, the proposal for a 13-GW solar plant, spread over 80 sq km in Pang, and surveys of Ladakh’s mineral reserves have raised concerns about changes in land use and the consequent impact on the traditional mainstays of agriculture and herding. The Pang project threatens the traditional pastures of the Pashmina goats.
Tourism has grown rapidly, reaching a peak of 525,000 visitors in 2023, which fell to 375,000 in 2024 due to civil unrest. Even so, this is more than the entire population of the region, estimated at around 300,000. Uttarakhand recorded a similar trend, with 60 million visitors in 2024 against a population of 12.5 million. Likewise, Himachal Pradesh, with 7.8 million people, hosted 18 million tourists.
Leh, once the capital of the independent Kingdom of Ladakh and a trading hub between South and Central Asia, has expanded hugely in the last couple of decades, thanks to tourism and a seven-fold increase in military presence post-Kargil. A 2019 study (Dame et al.) observed that in the decade and a half between 2003 and 2017, some 9,400 new buildings came up at the cost of agricultural land. This naturally put pressure on water resources, besides polluting ground and surface water.
A 2016 study (Ziegler et al.) identified unplanned construction in hazardous locations as the primary factor contributing to loss of life and property in Ladakh. It found “a long history of flash floods and debris flows resulting from intense storms, which appear to have increased in frequency within the last decade”. Ziegler observes that these vulnerabilities are ignored in order to boost tourism, which has led to construction on land susceptible to flooding and debris flows. In Leh’s worst flash flood in 2010, 234 people died, and hundreds were injured.
So, is the demand for political autonomy justified on ecological grounds? Activists maintain that Ladakh must be able to shape development policies sensitive to environmental concerns and exercise control over their own land, forests and mineral resources. The pro-statehood Climate Fast movement claims a convergence of ecological concerns with democratic rights. It demands Ladakh’s inclusion in the Sixth Schedule, which allows for Autonomous District Councils along the lines of those in the Northeast.
The movement may or may not have nefarious political interests; only time will tell, but it does have a point. The Himalayas are young mountains and extremely unstable, prone to earthquakes and landslides due to heavy rainfall. Changes in land use and loss of land cover exacerbate and sometimes trigger natural disasters. The urge to exploit the hills for hydropower and water, stone and minerals, and timber and tourism has led to agricultural lands and forests being given over to dams, roads, tunnels, high-rise buildings and mines. This, in turn, has disrupted the flow of overground and underground streams, leading to water scarcity.
The Western Ghats, among the oldest hill ranges, have also seen increasing disasters due to development, notably, road building and construction. The Landslide Atlas of India (2022) reports that “the vulnerability of the inhabitants and households is more significant in the Western Ghats due to the very high population and household density.” Karnataka alone reported 1,272 landslides in the decade ending in 2021, with the number increasing significantly from 2016.
Against this background, it is understandable that Ladakhi groups want an agency to decide the way forward. However, can an autonomous administration deliver environmentally sustainable development? A 1999 study (Van Meek) found that the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Councils (LAHDC), set up in 1995, proved less than effective. Religious and sectarian divides surfaced, as did rivalries. Besides, devolution of power was incomplete, as all the LAHDC’s decisions were subject to state government review.
This raises the question of whether an autonomous administration can stand against national and global economic processes. Local populations are caught up in changing lifestyles. Rural populations want jobs and cash in hand, as well as roads, power, schools and subsidies. The urban elite wants business opportunities and, therefore, better connectivity with the rest of the country, along with tax exemptions. Can all of this be provided while addressing environmental concerns?
As a Union Territory of geopolitical importance, Ladakh has been a focus of interest. It has received allocations of an estimated Rs 34,000 crore in the last five years. There have been investments in digital, road and power infrastructure. Central government officials claim that hill councils enjoy considerable autonomy with regard to land and have a generous budget. As of 2025, 85 per cent of government jobs are reserved for locals, and recruitment for 1,800 posts has begun. A 15-year domicile requirement has been imposed and official status granted to the primary local languages. Five new districts have been notified. A medical college and a UPSC examination centre in Leh have been approved.
What about protecting Ladakh’s unique ecology and culture? To this end, local representation is a must, say the activists. In the absence of a legislature, Ladakh does not enjoy the four MLAs and two MLCs it had in erstwhile J&K. The sole Lok Sabha seat and the two LAHDCs do not suffice to protect local interests, because the current administration comprises a lieutenant governor and non-local officials who are not invested in Ladakh.
The Centre’s approach is well-meaning and practical, but perhaps not tailored to the unique needs of Ladakh. For their part, activists understand the local culture and can mobilise communities but need the backing of the Centre to implement solutions towards prevention and management of environmental hazards. Regardless of whether statehood is granted or not, the two need to work together, both from the environmental and national security points of view.
Bhavdeep Kang is a senior journalist with 35 years of experience working with major newspapers and magazines. She is now an independent writer and author.
