Himalayan Fragility and the Politics of Development: Why Murli Manohar Joshi’s Warning Matters

Veteran BJP leader Murli Manohar Joshi’s sharp criticism of the Uttarakhand government’s decision to widen roads in the Bhagirathi Eco-Sensitive Zone is far more than an internal political disagreement. It is a reminder—urgent, uncomfortable, and necessary—that the Himalayas are approaching an ecological tipping point. His warning that India’s aspiration to become a Vishwa Guru cannot survive without protecting its mountains is not rhetorical flourish; it is a statement grounded in science, history, and the lived experience of Himalayan communities. The question is not whether development should happen, but whether the current model of development is pushing the Himalayas toward irreversible collapse.

According to reports, Joshi joined environmentalists in criticising the approval of road widening inside the Bhagirathi Eco-Sensitive Zone, a region already destabilised by landslides, flash floods, and unregulated construction. His argument is simple: if the Himalayas fall, India’s civilisational, cultural, and ecological foundations fall with them. This is not an exaggeration. The Himalayas regulate the subcontinent’s climate, feed its rivers, and sustain millions of lives downstream. Yet, in the name of development, they are being carved, blasted, and reshaped at a pace the mountains cannot bear.

The Uttarakhand government’s justification rests on strategic and infrastructural needs, especially under the Char Dham all-weather road project. The forest department’s clearance for widening a 20.6 km stretch inside the eco-sensitive zone cites national importance and exemptions under amended forest laws. But national importance cannot be defined only through military or infrastructural lenses. National importance must also include ecological survival. If strategic roads collapse every monsoon due to landslides triggered by their own construction, what strategy remains?

Joshi’s critique gains weight because it comes from within the ideological family that has championed the Char Dham project. When a senior BJP leader warns that “the dream of becoming Vishwa Guru will be destroyed if we fail to save the Himalayas”, it signals a deeper tension between political ambition and environmental reality. His question—“Where will you unfurl the flag of development if there will be no Himalayas?”—cuts through the noise. Development cannot be celebrated on a foundation that is literally crumbling.

The Bhagirathi Eco-Sensitive Zone was created precisely to prevent such ecological harm. It is the birthplace of the Ganga, a river revered culturally and depended upon materially. Yet, the proposed widening will result in the loss of nearly 42 hectares of forest land and thousands of trees, including deodar, a species central to the region’s ecological balance. The Himalayas are not like the plains; their slopes are fragile, their soil young, their rivers unpredictable. Even minor disturbances can trigger major disasters. The Dharali flash flood earlier this year is a stark reminder of how quickly things can go wrong.

Supporters of the road project argue that better connectivity is essential for pilgrims, tourists, and the military. But this argument ignores the fact that reckless construction has already made the Char Dham route one of the most disaster-prone corridors in the country. Wider roads invite heavier traffic, which demands more hotels, more parking, more commercialisation—each adding pressure to a terrain already stretched beyond its limits. Development that destroys the very landscape it seeks to showcase is not development; it is self-sabotage.

Joshi’s intervention also highlights a broader philosophical question: What kind of development does India want? A model that prioritises speed over sustainability, spectacle over stability, and short-term gains over long-term survival? Or a model that respects the natural limits of the land, especially in regions as delicate as the Himalayas? The Himalayas are not obstacles to be conquered; they are guardians to be protected. Civilisations have thrived here for millennia precisely because they understood this balance.

Critics of Joshi may argue that environmental concerns are often used to stall progress. But the evidence from Uttarakhand’s recent history—Kedarnath floods