“Viegas and his supporters argue that the law already contains mechanisms to deal with irregular constructions. The Comunidade Code, though rooted in tradition, has evolved to accommodate the needs of modern Goa. What the new law does, they say, is bypass the elected bodies altogether, replacing collective consent with bureaucratic discretion. “The government has no right to interfere in Comunidade affairs,” Viegas declared, urging other comunidades to follow Carambolim’s example and reject the law outright.
On the other hand, the government has framed the Bill as a compassionate solution to a decades-old problem. Thousands of houses built before February 28, 2014, on Comunidade land have remained in legal limbo, leaving families unable to sell, mortgage, or transfer their property.”
The recent decision by the Carambolim Comunidade to formally oppose the newly enacted Bill regularising illegal constructions on Comunidade land marks the first organised challenge to a controversial piece of legislation. Led by its president, Venzy Viegas, the Carambolim Comunidade has not only raised legal objections but also touched a deeper nerve — the preservation of Goa’s centuries-old self-governance traditions against the pressures of modern housing demands.
At the heart of the dispute lies a clash between two principles: the need to address the plight of thousands of Goans living in unregularised homes and the right of comunidades to manage their lands without state interference. For generations, comunidades have been more than just landholding bodies; they have been custodians of community resources, operating under their own code, procedures, and democratic decision-making. The Bill’s provision allowing Administrators to approve regularisation without the consent of the comunidade strikes many as an erosion of that autonomy.
Viegas and his supporters argue that the law already contains mechanisms to deal with irregular constructions. The Comunidade Code, though rooted in tradition, has evolved to accommodate the needs of modern Goa. What the new law does, they say, is bypass the elected bodies altogether, replacing collective consent with bureaucratic discretion. “The government has no right to interfere in Comunidade affairs,” Viegas declared, urging other comunidades to follow Carambolim’s example and reject the law outright.
On the other hand, the government has framed the Bill as a compassionate solution to a decades-old problem. Thousands of houses built before February 28, 2014, on Comunidade land have remained in legal limbo, leaving families unable to sell, mortgage, or transfer their property. Supporters of the Bill say this is not about undermining comunidades but about recognising social realities. In a state where land prices have skyrocketed, many of these houses belong to Goans who could never have afforded formal allotments or market rates.
The political undertones are hard to ignore. Pushing the Bill through with a majority, the government has clearly chosen expediency over extended consultation. Critics call this a “backdoor route” to legitimising encroachments, while supporters say prolonged debates have only prolonged hardship for ordinary people. This divide underscores a recurring theme in Goan governance: the tension between heritage-based self-regulation and state-led modernisation.
The Carambolim Comunidade’s resolution, passed unanimously at its Sunday meeting, will now be sent to the Administrator of Comunidades and the Revenue Minister. But whether such opposition will gather enough momentum to influence policy remains to be seen. Many comunidades, weakened by declining participation and generational disengagement, may not have the organisational strength to mount a sustained protest. Others, facing their own localised disputes over land and constructions, may choose to interpret the Bill’s provisions in a more flexible light.
A balanced approach is needed. The government must recognise that comunidades are not mere land banks but living institutions rooted in Goan identity. Any law that affects their powers must be crafted in dialogue, not delivered as a fait accompli. Simultaneously, comunidades must acknowledge that the state’s housing crisis cannot be ignored. Blanket rejection of regularisation leaves thousands in uncertainty and risks alienating communities from the very people they are meant to serve.
Perhaps the way forward lies in a hybrid model — one where regularisation is possible but contingent upon meaningful consultation with the concerned comunidade. The Administrator’s role could be made one of facilitation rather than unilateral approval. Clear criteria could be laid down for what qualifies for regularisation, ensuring that land-grabs and speculative encroachments do not benefit from the same leniency granted to genuinely needy households.
The Carambolim Comunidade’s stand is a reminder that heritage institutions still have a voice in Goa’s democratic landscape. Whether that voice becomes a chorus or remains a lone call will depend on how the conversation unfolds in the coming weeks. For now, the challenge is to find a middle path — one that respects the legacy of the comunidades while addressing the pressing realities of a growing and changing Goa.
If there is one lesson from this episode, it is that decisions about land in Goa cannot be reduced to mere legal amendments. They touch upon history, identity, livelihoods, and the very sense of belonging in a state that often feels caught between preservation and progress. In that delicate space, both comunidades and the government must tread with care.
