“The consequences of these policies are visible and measurable. Fishermen along the Baina and Kharewaddo coasts have complained of declining catches, siltation, and pollution since dredging began at MPT. The dust from coal handling coats homes, roads, and lungs. The health implications are devastating — respiratory diseases, skin ailments, and contamination of coastal waters are already on the rise. Yet, environmental clearances are being granted at record speed.
What makes this betrayal even more glaring is Goa’s unique vulnerability. Unlike industrial states with large hinterlands, Goa’s small size and ecological sensitivity leave no room for error. Every hill cut, every river dredged, every truckload of coal rolling down a national highway eats into the state’s long-term sustainability. “
The sight of thousands of Goans gathering at Margao’s Lohia Maidan on Sunday evening was more than a protest. It was a collective cry of betrayal, a demand for accountability from Goa’s very own leaders who have chosen industrial greed over public good. The message was unambiguous: Goa will not be a coal corridor.
This was not just another environmental protest. It was an assertion of identity and ownership – of land, rivers, and livelihoods. The people’s resolutions at the meeting were sweeping, from halting coal handling at Mormugao Port Trust (MPT) to rejecting the Sagarmala Master Plan and scrapping the double-tracking of the South Western Railway. Every demand was rooted in one conviction – that Goa’s fragile ecosystem and its community fabric cannot bear the weight of coal capitalism.
For years, successive governments have peddled the illusion of “development” as justification for policies that serve corporate interests while imperiling local communities. The coal expansion plans in Goa are the latest and perhaps most dangerous manifestation of this pattern. Under the Sagarmala project, coal handling at MPT is projected to rise to an astronomical 137 million tonnes per year – a figure that would transform Goa’s coastline into a conveyor belt of black dust and toxic air.
Environmental activist Abhijit Prabhudesai’s warning that the state is bending to pressure from the Centre is not hyperbole. Goa’s ports, rivers, and highways are being redesigned to fit into a logistical blueprint dictated by Delhi and corporate powerhouses. National highways are being widened to accommodate 100-ton coal trucks. Rivers have been placed under central control, stripping Goans of their right to manage local waterways. The pattern is clear: the state’s natural assets are being nationalized, not for the public good but for private profit.
Chief Minister Pramod Sawant’s administration has consistently downplayed these threats. When the government first faced public backlash over coal handling, it promised to cap and gradually reduce operations at MPT. Instead, the limit was quietly raised from seven to fourteen million tonnes. Such duplicity exposes the government’s unwillingness to uphold even its own commitments, let alone the public interest.
The consequences of these policies are visible and measurable. Fishermen along the Baina and Kharewaddo coasts have complained of declining catches, siltation, and pollution since dredging began at MPT. The dust from coal handling coats homes, roads, and lungs. The health implications are devastating — respiratory diseases, skin ailments, and contamination of coastal waters are already on the rise. Yet, environmental clearances are being granted at record speed.
What makes this betrayal even more glaring is Goa’s unique vulnerability. Unlike industrial states with large hinterlands, Goa’s small size and ecological sensitivity leave no room for error. Every hill cut, every river dredged, every truckload of coal rolling down a national highway eats into the state’s long-term sustainability. The tourism industry – still the backbone of Goa’s economy – cannot coexist with a coal conveyor. No traveler dreams of a beach fringed by black dust.
The government’s justification that these projects will bring jobs and revenue is hollow. The benefits of such mega-projects are rarely local. The profits go to mining and logistics companies headquartered elsewhere, while Goans bear the cost – in health, displacement, and environmental degradation. True economic planning for Goa would focus on renewable energy, sustainable tourism, small-scale manufacturing, and fisheries – sectors that strengthen communities rather than erode them.
The public meeting at Lohia Maidan is a reminder that Goa’s citizens are not passive spectators. They have seen what unchecked industrialization has done to rivers like the Zuari and Mandovi, to forests in the Western Ghats, to villages uprooted by dubious land acquisitions. They understand that once lost, these cannot be reclaimed. The people’s movement is not just environmental; it is existential.
What the government faces now is not just opposition but a deep moral indictment. The demand to halt coal handling is not a plea – it is a constitutional assertion of people’s rights to clean air, water, and self-determination. If the state continues to act as a facilitator for corporate interests at the expense of its citizens, it will lose not just legitimacy but also the moral right to govern.
Goa’s story has always been one of resistance – from colonial occupation to reckless development. The battle over coal is the latest chapter in that history. Whether the state remains a haven of natural beauty and cultural resilience or becomes another industrial wasteland depends on choices made now. The people have spoken clearly. The question is: will the government listen?
