The Case for Sharp Knives and Development

Casually watching a cooking video, I stumbled across words that sent me into a minute of thinking: "Sharper knives are safer." At first, it seemed ironic, but it starts to make sense when judged logically. Most kitchen knife accidents occur when a blunt knife is pushed too hard against something that it is failing to slice through, slipping and brushing against soft human skin, and oozing out blood. I thought about how appearances and narratives about something can veil the truth from us, making heroes into villains and vice-versa.

A similar case can be made for "development." The sinking of Joshimath is no news today, but what makes news is why it is sinking. News media outlets, larger public sentiment, and paraders of climate and nature justice have convicted "development" for the mishap. Not just speculation but fierce assertions that this had to happen given that Joshimath witnessed rapid, unchecked development. Big infrastructure projects, specifically the one very much under radar for its possible role in the calamity, the NTPC Tapovan Hydel Project, are also bearing the brunt of media trials.

Standing besmirched today, development has to be looked at with a new lens. It’s sharp edges are often seen as killer of the nature, but I have reservations. One has to question if the lack or the pursuit of development brings such mishaps to nature and us. Not having either the credentials or expertise to comment on geological factors that may have contributed to this, I can only make informed conclusions based on what little I happen to know about drainage and amenable infrastructure.

Much of Joshimath's subsidence is being attributed to the obstruction of the natural flow of water and the subsequent displacement of soil and rock layers underneath. What worries me as an architect is the possible causes that are escaping the common eye.

There is no wastewater management infrastructure in place in Joshimath, which is justified given that it is a mere 16,000 population town on hilly terrain. Building conventional wastewater management systems is not only difficult but costly as well. This entails that people build sunken pits to manage soil and grey wastewater, from where water eventually sweeps into the subsoil and residue waste is cleared periodically. This practice is not uncommon and is largely how wastewater is managed in rural areas and city outskirts where infrastructure is not in place yet. Moreover, pumping of groundwater is the only source of potable water for inhabitants given that there is no water supply facility available to them.

My question to the reader, who has shown patience in reading until here, is: "Could this mishap have been averted if there had been adequate water supply and wastewater management infrastructure available to the inhabitants?" Why do we hound a 15 km distant project that is complying with necessary environmental regulations, having clearances, and having obtained all NOCs, yet we fail to even think about the role that inhabitants themselves have played? Maybe because it is always easier to blame the government than ourselves for what happens to us.

How many of the tenements and edifices had necessary clearances, had soil bearing capacity tested, had foundations designed by an engineer, and complied with bye-laws? These questions are unending, and largely unheeded. Because if given heed, fingers will point at ourselves, which is neither a prime-time story nor an opportunity to snatch some votes.