Podcast

The podcast episode explores the environmental and intergenerational impact of shrinking civic spaces. It discusses the definition of civic spaces and their importance in civil society and democracy. It also highlights the alarming erosion of civic spaces around the world, with only 3% of the population living in open and protected civic spaces. The episode provides an example of the Rampal project in the Sindarbans, which showcases the negative consequences of ignoring local resistance and prioritizing development over environmental conservation. The destruction of the mangrove forest has led to land dispossession, loss of livelihoods, and environmental degradation. The episode also mentions the coastal road project in Mumbai, which disregarded objections and caused damage to the coast. Overall, the episode emphasizes the need to protect civic spaces and consider the long-term consequences of development projects. Okay. We are recording. So the title of our podcast is Exploring the Environmental and Intergenerational Impact of Shrinking Civic Spaces. Hello, and welcome to Explorations on Shrinking Civic Spaces by One Future Collective Fellows. Oh, wow. Raji, I'll have to stop. See, see, this is the problem, okay? Okay, then I'm not reading the title. I'll just directly start with the title. No, listen, listen. Are you speaking into a earphone? Yes. Your breath is being also, like... If only I could stop breathing. Okay. Do you want to do it without the earphones, maybe? Okay, I can try, but I don't know what the sound quality will be like. Okay. Right now, when I'm speaking, can you still hear me breathing? No, now I can't. This is good. Okay, then I'll do it like that. I was just holding the speaker, like the mic closer to my mouth, but I can just do it like this. Yeah, this is fine. Awesome. Okay, then I'll start recording. I'll start with hello, okay? Cool. Can you count me down from three? Sorry, I'm just laughing. No, I can't. This is horrible. Can you count me down from three? Okay, three, two, one, go. Hello, and welcome to Exploration on Shrinking Civic Spaces by One Future Fellows 2024, a podcast by the 2024-2025 cohort of the One Future Fellows. I am Prachi. And I'm Shalmani. Today, we'll be talking about the environmental and intergenerational impact of shrinking civic spaces. We would like to pause here for a quick trigger warning. Given the intense subject matter, there may emerge feelings of climate anxiety, gloom, and other strong feelings. We request you to please pause and disengage in a way that works best for you. We will always be here if you choose to come back and give us a listen. Before we begin, I think it's important to unpack what we truly understand by civic spaces and why they are crucial to civil society's functioning and democratic well-being. That's a good place to start. You know, Prachi, I initially thought of civic spaces as public spaces. It makes sense, right? I mean, well, colloquially, yes. But conceptually, civic spaces mean a lot more. According to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, civic spaces translate to the right to three basic freedoms. Freedom of expression, freedom of association, and freedom of assembly. It's not just physical spaces accessible to the public. That's exactly what I found out. Glad that we contextualized this because the increasing erosion of civic spaces must be alarming to all of us. For one day, we might not be left with a voice for dissent. Aren't you going too far? I wish I was, but that is the reality. The People's Power Under Attack 2019 report by the Civil Society Alliance, CIVICUS, notes that only 3% of the world's population lives under open and protected civic spaces. Wow. And it doesn't stop there. According to the Solidar Asia Economic and Social report, 97% of South Asia's inhabitants now live in conditions where civic space is significantly constrained, and civic society members who question those in power risk surveillance, harassment, intimidation, imprisonment, injury, and even death. Goes without saying that the consequences are felt most brutally by the region's minorities, who have all historically faced various kinds of subjugation and discrimination, and also for those who advocate for their rights. You're right, but I fear we might have bombarded our audience with too much information at this point. Oh no, I don't want this to sound like an inaccessible textbook. I think it's better we do this with examples. What do you think? It helps to see things play out in real life, right? You and your learning strategies. What? Praxis is important. Okay, so what comes to your mind? I'm thinking of the Rampal project in Sindarbans. Hmm. Would you like to share why this one comes to your mind? Essentially because this perfectly explains how despite the presence of local resistance movements, international interventions by World Heritage Centre, and International Union for the Conservation of Nature, the Sheikh Hasina government pushed through the project regardless. Oh, tell me more. So, in December 22, the Maitri Super Thermal Power Project, aka the Rampal Project, within Bangladesh began commercial power production. Now, this project had been on pause for years with multiple protests, strikes, and demands to be scrapped or relocated. The primary concerns being land dispossession and threat to the Sindarbans. However, the anti-Rampal movement failed with an unfortunate and strategic diminishing of the collective civic space. Oh, how did that happen? The destruction of Sindarbans. So, one could say that the past destruction of Sindarbans is responsible for future destruction. Yes, I know it does sound confusing and ironic, but that's precisely what happened. The Sindarbans, a World Heritage Site shared by India and Bangladesh, is the largest delta and mangrove forest on earth. These mangroves act as a natural barrier against cyclones, storms, and floods, protecting 13 million people and their livelihoods. Not only this, it also shelters endangered species, stabilizes coastlines, prevents soil erosion, and salinization of the land. It even accounts for 14% of global ocean carbon removal. I cannot imagine what will happen once we lose this critical ecosystem. Exactly. Unfortunately, a 2012 study by the Zoological Society of London found that the Sindarban coast is deteriorating by 200 meters a year. This depletion is not only caused by natural disasters, but also by government policies, conservation measures, development projects, and eco-tourism. Wow, that sounds quite serious. So, naturally the community is directly dependent on the Sindarbans for their livelihoods are going to be impacted. There you go. In this absence of the buffering mangroves, the saline water enters the farmland and makes them unfit for agriculture. So, basically nothing can be grown or the land cannot be used for anything. And then with the rising sea levels, the fish population shrinks, disrupting the livelihood of coastal and fishing communities. Shalmini, I'm wondering since they can neither cultivate land nor fish for a living, what option do these people then have? They are ultimately left to pursue further marginalized activities such as shrimp farming, collection of honey, and prawn seedling, or are forced to migrate. Likewise, the people inhabiting the 1,838 acres of land, which is marked for the ramp. I'm so sorry about this. It's all right. Okay, I'm going to record the last one again. They are ultimately. Can you start from there? Yeah. Okay. They are ultimately left to pursue further marginalized activities such as shrimp farming, collection of honey, and prawn seedling, or are forced to migrate. Likewise, the people inhabiting the 1,838 acres of land marked for the Rampal project and migrated from various villages and belong to different groups. So, they did not share a cultural solidarity and ownership towards the land in order to protect it. Moreover, some of these groups had land titles which they were very happy to give away in exchange for good compensation offered by the government. I mean, I can clearly understand why. Since the land anyway wasn't producing any yield, this must have felt like a way out. I'm sure the ones who didn't have any land must have suffered the most. Oh, yes, absolutely, Prachi. Essentially, the opposition boiled down to the more marginalized landless farmers and laborers who knew that they would not be considered for any kind of compensation. And the resistance then became more about compensation than opposing the power plant to protect the Sundarbans. Our intellectuals and activists did try to raise concerns regarding acid rain, smog, coal barges in the river. But they were unable to mobilize the locals because there was no actual incentive that they could offer to save the forest. Whereas the power plant promised higher land prices, employment, and industrial development of the region. I mean, this just breaks my heart. I know. And it's just so unfortunate that the ruling party snuffed out any opposition and employed intimidation tactics towards activists and people who were involved in the anti-Rampal movement. Despite multiple alarms raised by civil society platforms, the government maintained that no environmental harm would be caused because they were using advanced technologies. Is it just me or does it sound very similar to the script used for the coastal road project in Mumbai? No, it's not you, of course. The coastal regulation zone's approval was laughable at best. Did you know that in April 2018, over 3,000 fishing collectives, environmental groups, and citizens across India submitted their objections to the draft of the coastal regulation zone notification? It is the law that governs the development of the country's 7,500 kilometer coastline. There doesn't seem to be any light at the end of the tunnel. There's no silver lining either. It disregarded 90% of the objections. I mean, 90%. And cleared the final notification without publishing a draft. Wow. Civic space is RIP. And so, the promising Dharmavir Swarajya Raksha Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj Coastal Road, the eight-lane, 29.2 kilometer freeway running along Mumbai's coastline with India's first and largest undersea tunnel, was inaugurated in March 2024 with no apparent damage to the coast. Well, I mean, even if I'm not an environmental expert or a marine biologist, the recent sea page is proof enough. It does not bode well, not for the city, not for the environment, not for its future, and definitely not for our future and the people's future. It reminds me of the poem Planners by Singaporean writer Boi Kim Cheng, I hope I'm pronouncing it right, which critiques the mindless construction megacities. You're right, Prachi. When we think about it, whom does this project actually serve? Because according to Mumbai Vikas Samiti, which is a forum of transport experts, 7.1% of daily passenger trips in the city in 2015 to 2016 were by public transport, and only 22.9% were by private vehicles. Now, given that the project spans all heavy and passenger-carrying vehicles, it creates convenience only for the affluent private vehicle owner. In fact, these large infrastructure projects in Mumbai seem to be carried out for governing politicians to earn brownie points. We are in an island city, how much pressure do you think it can take before it finally submerges? I mean, to top it all off, Mumbai is a fisherfolk city. It belongs to the Koli community. With the disruption and loss of access to the intertidal shores at the hands of this construction, the Koli community, like the island people of Sundarbans, have been stripped off of their livelihoods. And it also reminds me, like when you ask this question of how much pressure can it take, anyway, Mumbai is subjected to go under by 2050. So I really don't know how to answer that. And coming back to the Koli community, they have little to no choice but to take up daily wage labor. The community's plea to have unhindered access to the Lotus Jetty, which is an area for Mumbai's small and artisanal fisherfolk to dock their boats, has been disposed of by the Bombay High Court. Why is the directly affected community last to be acknowledged and ultimately dismissed? It doesn't even make sense. It doesn't make sense. You're right. There is no logical explanation for it. The state definitely needs to do better and consider the impact on both the direct and the indirect stakeholders. Imagine the implications of reclaiming 111 hectares of sea and 2.07 kilometer tunnels for the next generation of the Koli community and for the fragile marine ecosystem. Gone are the fish, gone are our fishermen, and gone is the city that we once knew. You're absolutely right. I mean, the word reclaiming has always ticked me off. Reclaiming from whom? But yeah, anyway, the whole thing just saddens me. The iconic Queen's Necklace, if you remember, a favorite spot for most Mumbai girls, has now become ugly with this lopsided development. All the seas around the city are barricades for construction and dug-up roads for metro pillars. I don't know whether to count myself fortunate or unfortunate for knowing the oldest city and charm of Mumbai. I agree. It is tragic and infuriating at the same time. I sometimes do consider myself lucky, but at the same time, I wish that I wouldn't be seeing the face of this new Mumbai. You know, the city had no space to begin with. We already have the back, we've already backed the title of being the most congested city after Moscow. However, there was some charm, almost like a sigh of relief, in accessing our beaches and shorelines. They're currently the only non-commercial civic spaces available to us. And thanks to this elite abomination on the shoreline, even that is taken away from the public. You know, just a couple of weeks ago, I went with my friend to Nariman Point, the tourist attraction with the Arabian Sea View. We went there late at night, hoping to access few pockets of quiet, empty Mumbai. However, it was all closed off. Like, the shoreline was gone with these yellow-blue boards announcing the construction of the coastal road project. And, and, to make matters worse... I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Can I backtrack? You were shooed off by the police? Yes, you're right. They did not even let us sit. The policing and patrolling of open public spaces just doesn't add up. What does one have to do to have one pinch of free space to assemble in the city? Pay for fancy cafes? I mean, that, that seems to be the only answer right now. And while I understand your frustration, I do think we tend to get selfish when we think of ourselves as the only resident, as the only resident of this mega non-stopping city. I mean, do we even like stop to consider the plants, the trees, the animals, and the fish that live in this coastal city? If our voices are invalidated, if we are policed and shooed away, then I'm sure theirs are not even heard. Do they get any say in the decision-making process? Well, let me take a minute to process that. That's another endangered community left out as a direct consequence of this so-called development. This coastal road project claims to reduce nearly 100 million U.S. dollars annually in carbon emissions through fuels, according to Mumbai civic chief Iqbal Singh Chahal. But how do we account for the actual cost of disrupting ecosystems and animal life through the highly invasive and polluting construction process? I mean, the irony of it, right? I'm appalled by the government's focus on mitigation strategies to limit environmental damage that they only, of course, have caused, okay? Instead of imagining alternative solutions, we are all just collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. And what even is the grand scheme of things anymore? Sorry. No, no, go ahead. I can edit this part out. Yeah, go ahead. Sorry, it was your turn. No, no. Okay, I'll repeat the last sentence and then I'll move forward. Yeah, yeah. I mean, we are all just collateral damage in the grand scheme of things, aren't we? And at this point, what is the grand scheme of things? But anyway, I'm digressing. Let's shift gears and talk about something that doesn't get enough attention. The lack of queer spaces in Southeast Asia and South Asia. Yeah, it's a real issue. I'm glad we're talking about this. Queer communities often struggle to find safe public spaces, right? I mean, absolutely. Take Singapore, for example. Despite its modernity, many queer individuals feel unsafe in public spaces like restaurants and parks. Remember that incident in 2019 where a same-sex couple was asked to leave a cafe just for holding hands? Oh yes, that was all over the news, wasn't it? And it's not just public spaces. Educational institutions can be really hostile too. In Malaysia, LGBTQ students often face discrimination and bullying. There's this heartbreaking story of a trans student. I don't know if you remember this, but they were denied access to university facilities simply because of their gender identity. My God, that's awful. But I mean, these are not the only countries. Let's take Indonesia, for example. Despite the vibrant queer scene in Jakarta and Bali, the government has been cracking down on LGBTQ plus events. In 2018, police raided a sauna in Jakarta, arresting dozens of men on suspicion of being gay. Not even confirmation, just on suspicion of being gay. Wow. I mean, if we are going to leave legal processes to suspicions, God only knows where this world will end up. And honestly, it's not even about legal issues at this point in time. Social stigma is in itself a massive barrier. In places like Vietnam, even though same-sex marriage isn't criminalized, social acceptance is still lacking. Queer individuals often feel that they have to hide their identities to avoid ostracization. Exactly. Public parks and gardens, which should be spaces for everyone regardless of gender, age, all barriers, are often very unwelcoming. In Thailand, for instance, while Bangkok is seen as more progressive, queer spaces are mostly confined to certain areas they belong. It's not truly integrated into the city's social fabric. Absolutely. And also, don't forget about the Philippines. While there are some inclusive spots in Manila, there are exceptions rather than the norm. Queer people still face discrimination in many public spaces, including parks and community centers. And this is in 2024. I mean, at this point, I know we're talking about this, but it just feels so bleak and gloomy. And it's so, so crucial to have these inclusive spaces. They're not just about safety, but about community. In Myanmar, there are few underground LGBTQ plus clubs, but they have to operate in secrecy to avoid police raids. Just imagine living your entire life, living each day in secrecy, not being able to be your true self. Yeah, and hiding for what? For not being heteronormative? It is absolutely heartbreaking. You should watch this short film called Maurice's Bar. I think you'll love it. It's about the secret queer bar, which gets raided by police in France. I think, for our listeners as well, it would be a nice thing to do. But moving back to South Asia, the situation isn't much better. Recently in Pakistan, there's very little tolerance for queer individuals in public spaces. There was this incident where a transgender woman was attacked in broad daylight in Islamabad, and the authorities did little, absolutely little to help. And what's more shameful is how we have generalized these incidents so much so that we are not even aware when they happen in our backyard. Absolutely. And Pakistan is like the country right next to us. I mean, if things are happening there, I'm sure similar things are happening in India as well. And let's just go to another neighboring country. Let's talk about Bhutan, which is often seen as progressive in many ways, with their happiness, in-depth, with their green living. But Bhutan still has a very long way to go in terms of LGBTQ plus rights. Public displays of affection among queer individuals are frowned upon. And of course, there's a severe lack of safe spaces for them. Right. Even our another neighboring country, Nepal, is somewhat of an outlier in South Asia, with its progressive stance on LGBTQ plus rights. The country has legally recognized a third gender, and there are some safe spaces for the queer community in Kathmandu. However, outside the capital, the situation is still precarious. I mean, that seems to be the narrative in most cities in most countries, right? Even in India, despite the decriminalization of homosexuality in 2018, societal acceptance is still a major hurdle. And to add on top of that, the 2023 and 2024 five-judge verdict. I mean, where do we even go with that? But again, coming back, public spaces like parks and restaurants often remain hostile. There was an incident in Bangalore where a group of friends was harassed for attending a queer pride event. I remember hearing about that. So frustrating. These events are not isolated. Because, you know, they reveal this larger pattern of exclusion for the queer community. Public libraries, parks, community centers, these should be spaces where everyone feels safe. I mean, we can't even party, is it? But that's unfortunately not the reality. And I mean, I would love to counter that we can't even party. But I think at this point, it's like we can't even exist. But yeah, this shrinking of civic spaces poses such a big problem, such a big threat. Civic spaces are crucial for fostering community and social interaction. And when these spaces are hostile or inaccessible to marginalized groups, it just keeps on perpetuating their exclusion and discrimination. And the cycle continues, because these are the spaces where social change happens. They provide a platform for advocacy, support networks, and cultural exchange. The lack of safe queer spaces means that many LGBTQ plus individuals feel isolated and marginalized, which can lead to mental health problems. Absolutely. It also stifles the visibility and representation of queer communities. When queer individuals can't freely occupy public spaces, issues and experiences remain invisible, which hampers progress towards equality, as well as feeds into the cycle of no representation is equal to no safe spaces. And it just keeps on going round and round and round. Yeah, somehow they're not allowed in the mainstream. They're just not allowed. We have to exist on the sides. And this is not the case for the big cities, just the big cities. In smaller towns and rural areas, the situation is even worse. Queer people often have to migrate to urban areas in search of acceptance and community, leaving behind their families and support systems. I mean, that's an excellent point. But even in cities, do they get that acceptance and support system that they were looking for? Because the pressure to conform in cities can be so intense. Take Manila again, where LGBTQ plus events are often confined to specific venues, and public displays of affection can still attract negative attention. It's like living in a bubble within the city itself. Look at Hanoi as well. There's a growing queer community, but public events are still rare. Most gatherings happen in private or semi-private spaces to avoid unwanted attention. It's like queer people are forced to hide. Absolutely. And again, we need to take a step back and also ask this question of who are these queer people who can also access private spaces? Again, it brings in so many layers of class, of caste, of a lot of different things. And even in India, despite pride parades becoming more visible, the everyday reality for many queer people is still one of caution and fear. There's this constant tension between wanting to live freely, access inclusive spaces, and then the need to stay safe. And how does one even start to explore their identity when entire societies are shaped in ways to curb it? How do people with disabilities access spaces designed solely for able-bodied people? How can you be queer in Europe when Europe is not accessible at all? You've asked quite some fascinating questions and some crucial ones as well. Even social media plays a significant role in visibilizing queer people. It offers a platform for queer voices and global solidarity, but at the same time, it also serves as a venue for harassment and abuse. The digital space, much like physical spaces, can be hostile and exclusionary. Exactly. At this point, I think social media is a double-edged sword. It connects queer individuals across the globe, fostering support, but it also exposes them to cyberbullying and online threats. This dichotomy has a profound effect on queer people today, and its repercussions will be felt by future generations as well. I agree. I absolutely agree to that. This shrinking of civic spaces, both physical and digital, poses a significant problem. It hampers our social progress, mental health, and the overall well-being of queer individuals. We have to create more inclusive and welcoming environments. And I think it starts with this awareness and advocacy. We need to support policies that protect queer rights and promote social acceptance. But I think more than that, we need to change our attitudes and create a culture of inclusivity. I hear you. It's about creating a world where everyone can feel at home in their own city. And it starts with acknowledging the importance of queer and ecological spaces and fighting to protect them. Absolutely. Here's hoping that through conversations like this, we can raise awareness and inspire change. If you are listening, get involved within your community. Support local LGBTQ plus and climate change groups and advocate for inclusive spaces. As we conclude, let's recap the key points we discussed today. We first explored the environmental and intergenerational impact of shrinking civic spaces, focusing on significant case studies like the Rampal Project in Bangladesh and Mumbai's Coastal Road Project. We also delved into critical issues of climate justice and the differential impact of development on marginalized communities. Importantly, we highlighted the lack of queer spaces in Southeast Asia, emphasizing the need for inclusive public spaces where everyone feels safe and valued. The preservation of these spaces is crucial for the well-being and inclusion of all community members. Sustainable development and the preservation of civic spaces are not just ideals. They're essential for ensuring a healthy, inclusive and equitable future for all. We must continue to advocate for policies that protect these spaces and ensure that the voices of the marginalized communities are heard and respected. We encourage you, our listeners, to engage with these topics, share your thoughts and take action in your community. Every effort, no matter how small, contributes to a larger movement for positive change. As we wrap up this episode of Explorations on Shrinking Civic Spaces by One Future Fellows 2024, we've delved into the environmental and intergenerational impacts of shrinking civic spaces. We discussed how projects like the Mobile Coastal Road and the Rampal Power Plant affect not only our immediate environment, but also the future generations. We've also highlighted the urgent need for inclusive queer spaces and how societal and environmental changes disproportionately affect marginalized communities. Thank you all for tuning in and being part of this important conversation. Thank you, Prachi, for summing that up so well. Both of us encourage you to reflect on how shrinking civic spaces, both physical and digital, affect different communities. How can we, as individuals and as a society, advocate for and protect these essential spaces? Both Sharmilee and I extremely and dearly appreciate your support. If you liked this episode, please follow us on Instagram and Facebook at AtTheRateOneFutureCollective and AtTheRateOneFutureIndia on Twitter. Keep an eye out for future episodes of Explorations on Shrinking Civic Spaces by One Future Fellows 2024. Please leave your questions, comments, or feedback for us on Anchor or in our DMs. We look forward to hearing your thoughts and continuing this dialogue with you. Until next time, take care of yourselves, stay informed, and let's work towards creating a more inclusive and sustainable future together. Thank you for joining us. We hope to explore more such issues with you soon. Thank you. Yay!