“This is why Section 39A has become such a flashpoint. What may appear to be a technical planning provision is widely viewed by citizens as a mechanism that allows land use changes with minimal public scrutiny. The controversy has gone beyond individual applications and turned into a larger debate about who controls Goa’s land and in whose interest decisions are taken.
The same anxieties are visible in protests against infrastructure projects. The jetty proposal in the Curchorem area has drawn resistance from villagers who fear increased industrial activity and environmental damage.”
Goa is in the midst of a season of protests. Across the state, citizens are opposing projects that on paper appear unrelated. A jetty in Curchorem, a bandhara at Mirabag, land conversions under Section 39A of the Town and Country Planning Act, and the proposed Unity Mall project have all triggered local resistance. Each issue has its own context. Yet taken together, they point to something larger unfolding across Goa: a widening public distrust of how development decisions are being made.
What is striking is not just the number of protests but their intensity. Villagers who rarely participated in public demonstrations are now organising marches and public meetings. Environmental groups, residents’ associations and political activists are finding themselves on the same platforms. The protests are no longer isolated local disputes. They are becoming expressions of a broader anxiety about the future of the state.
At the heart of most of these conflicts is land.
In a geographically small state like Goa, land is finite and deeply contested. Every field converted into a settlement and every hill opened to construction feels like a permanent loss. For many communities, land is not simply property. It is tied to livelihoods, water sources and traditional village structures. When zoning changes take place, villagers often see them as irreversible decisions taken without their consent.
This is why Section 39A has become such a flashpoint. What may appear to be a technical planning provision is widely viewed by citizens as a mechanism that allows land use changes with minimal public scrutiny. The controversy has gone beyond individual applications and turned into a larger debate about who controls Goa’s land and in whose interest decisions are taken.
The same anxieties are visible in protests against infrastructure projects. The jetty proposal in the Curchorem area has drawn resistance from villagers who fear increased industrial activity and environmental damage. Whether those fears are fully justified or not, they reflect a deep suspicion that infrastructure projects often serve interests beyond the local community.
The Mirabag bandhara project has generated similar concerns. Projects presented as public utilities are often viewed with scepticism when their long term beneficiaries are unclear. Conflicting information and shifting explanations only deepen that mistrust. In such an environment, even beneficial projects struggle to gain acceptance.
The opposition to the Unity Mall project reflects another dimension of dissent. Residents worry not just about environmental impact but also about the strain on infrastructure and the changing character of their localities. Development in Goa is rarely judged only on economic grounds. It is also judged on whether it fits into the existing social and ecological landscape.
What ties these movements together is a growing perception that decisions are being made first and explained later.
Public consultations often come after plans are already drawn up. Technical presentations and official assurances do little to convince communities that feel excluded from the process. When people believe that their objections will not alter the outcome, protests become the only language left.
Goa’s history also plays a role in shaping these reactions. The state has seen decades of disputes over mining, land deals and large projects. Each new proposal is viewed through the lens of past controversies. Even unrelated projects inherit the distrust created by earlier ones.
This does not mean that Goans are opposed to development. The state’s economy has long depended on tourism, infrastructure and investment. What people increasingly demand is participation. They want to know what is being planned, why it is being planned and how it will affect their lives.
In a small state, the effects of development are immediate and visible. A new road changes traffic patterns overnight. A large project transforms entire neighbourhoods. Decisions cannot remain abstract when their consequences are so close to home.
The protests unfolding across Goa are therefore not just about jetties, malls or planning laws. They are about the relationship between citizens and the state. They reflect a demand for transparency, consultation and accountability.
If there is a lesson in the current wave of dissent, it is that development cannot simply be announced and implemented. It has to be explained and negotiated. Without that process, even well intentioned projects will face resistance.
Goa today is witnessing more than a series of local agitations. It is experiencing a broader assertion by citizens who want a greater say in how their state evolves. Until that demand is addressed, dissent will continue to define the conversation around development.
