The resurgence of Hindu nationalism in India during the 1980s and 1990s manifested itself not only in the sphere of formal politics, but also in the social and cultural domain. The change in elected government and the incidence of communal violence was supported by the parallel spread of Hindutva-inspired ideas and ideologues in school classrooms and scholarly research in history and archaeology. These aspects of Hindu nationalism have been extensively studied and exhaustively criticised. What has received less attention, however, is the influence of Hindutva on environmentalism – a cause often regarded as above and beyond parochial politics, dealing as it does with saving the planet.
Mukul Sharma's Green and Saffron sets out to fill this gap, asserting that a 'large part of the panoply of environmental politics in India today in fact reveals some political allegiances or affinities with Hindu nationalist and authoritarian forces'. This is a startling claim, especially for readers who have grown up with Chipko and Narmada Bachao Andolan and who have observed how these iconic campaigns have crafted a vision of ecological change that places the poorest first. If there are 'affinities' with Hindutva and 'authoritarian forces' – and these must be shown rather than merely asserted – are they a defining feature of environmental politics?
According to Sharma, 'Hindu environmental politics fabricates glorifications of "Hindu" land, rivers, forests, community, tradition, self-reliant villages, and ancient nature philosophy; simultaneously it condemns modernisation, Westernisation, and globalisation.' If that is the case, then not only are Chipko and Narmada tainted with 'saffron', but Mahatma Gandhi, whose philosophy contains all of the above elements, should be placed in the same category as his killers. In his anxiety to make his case, the author does not acknowledge that, while environmental movements and Hindutva politics may share certain ideas, these ideas are refracted through very different political values and take on radically different trajectories in actual practice.
When it comes down to analysis, Sharma's sweeping accusation shrinks down to the presentation of three case studies: (i) watershed management in Ralegan Siddhi, a village in Maharashtra; (ii) the campaign against Tehri dam in Uttarakhand led by Sunderlal Bahuguna; and (iii) the Vrindavan Conservation Project in Uttar Pradesh led by the WorldWide Fund for Nature-India. While these well-observed cases illustrate the author's contention, they form a somewhat slender evidentiary basis on which to damn the entire spectrum of environmental politics in India.