Airport: a transition from cornerstone to rolling stone

 

By Angela Mahapatra

 Airports are an indicator of development. John D. Kasarda and others have demonstrated how airports support growth, contributing to urban growth and development. Improved regional connectivity has promoted migration as well as the international movement of people and goods. But it's not the same any more, airports have encouraged the growth of the population so much that it's scary for people in that residence.

Brinkmanship of development

Belgian researchers Taïs Grippa and Frédric Debruszkes have highlighted in their paper, "You’re surrounded! Measuring the interior of airports in urban areas", that there are significant risks linked to airports situated close to crowded neighbourhoods. Their study presents the idea of an "enclosure index," which evaluates the effects of population density within a 15 km radius of the airport. (Source -1) Mumbai, Ahmedabad among Indian airports facing heightened safety risk due to urban surroundings, published on Economic Times, 9th of July 2025, and

2) You’re surrounded by Grippa and Dobruszkes,2022 pub published in The Professional Geographer.

Mumbai's Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport and Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport are located in congested zones, posing important safety issues for residents. The location near slums and housing makes operations more difficult and narrows down safety margins. For instance, Chennai Airport has experienced safety problems due to impingement on the airport, leading authorities to caution against skyscrapers that might obstruct the flight paths.

Airport, a planned death trap

Airports are usually sentimental grounds for farewells, and here we don't only bid farewell to our loved ones but also sometimes to some part of ourselves. However, the unprecedented urban sprawl surrounding these airports has brought issues such as illegal construction and inadequate infrastructure.

This scenario causes land use conflicts, prevents airport expansion, and affects safety. For example, spontaneous and frequent uncontrolled development around Indira Gandhi International Airport complicates runway additions and infrastructure upliftment. Urban development around airports requires stricter regulation to safeguard buffer zones. Effective policies are necessary for safe aircraft operations and public security. Airports in densely populated regions have a greater danger of accidents during takeoff and landing, resulting in potential severe casualties.

For example, the devastating 2020 Air India Express Kozhikode crash happened when the plane overshot the runway and disintegrated on a tabletop runway, with concerns being raised about the proximity of the runway to surrounding residential areas. In the same way, the 2025 Air India Flight 171 incident while taking off from Patel International Airport ended in tragedy when the aircraft crashed in a residential neighborhood. It crashed into a housing building of medical personnel associated with Byramjee Jeejeebhoy Medical College and Civil Hospital in Ahmedabad, resulting in the horrific loss of 242 lives, including passengers, flight attendants, and family members of medical personnel. (source -1)"What we know so far about Air India crash investigation" by Jack Burgess, Maia Davies, and Anna Lamche, BBC News, published on 12th June 2025 and updated on 12th July 2025

2)Four MBBS students, four relatives of doctors died in the crash: JDA published in the Times of India on June 17th 2025.)

Aircraft noise pollution leads to severe health issues like stress, sleep disorders, hypertension, and heart disease. Residents near airports, such as Mumbai’s Vile Parle and Santa Cruz, have raised concerns about unbearable noise from late-night flights. This problem is compounded by engine noise, traffic, and construction, worsening air pollution and impacting children and the elderly. For example, despite Bangalore airport's distance from the city, rapid development nearby is increasing emissions and dust pollution, raising health concerns.

Overcrowding of residential complexes close to airports makes evacuation in times of crisis difficult, preventing easy access for emergency vehicles. For instance, the traffic congestion within Kolkata's international airport takes longer to respond, particularly during rush hour. This raises the risk of deaths from accidents and worsens noise and air pollution, which is dangerous to health and the environment. Moreover, compromised infrastructure growth and safety breaches have transformed airports from a dream of development into a nightmare.

Development, a mere eyewash

Airports are considered symbols of modernity, boosting local economies and international connectivity, especially in developing nations like India. The government gives airports high priority in regional development, adhering to global standards, like in the cases of GMR Delhi Airport and RGIA of Hyderabad. Yet, problems such as uncontrolled urban expansion, inadequate buffer zones, lack of security, and neglected social and environmental impacts continue to haunt. Airports represent elitism, with projects aiming for high-end developments as the airports kill the local businesses by taking away agricultural land, forcing farmers into debt. It is followed by delayed compensation and no skill development, as was the case with Navi Mumbai airport. Besides, airport expansions, such as those at Kolkata airport, pollute the environment and pose a danger to fish farming. Inefficient infrastructure planning increases traffic jams and pulls down productivity, as airports attract a lot of traffic. Such situations are witnessed at Bengaluru airport. Even though the airport creates employment opportunities, most are low-paying or contractual jobs with minimal career prospects. This begs the question: is the airport an elitist enabler or does it belong to the commoner?

United by clouds, divided by politics

The expansion and shifting of airports take huge land tracts, which in India creates political tensions, protests, and litigation.

The Jewar Airport project proposal has received major pushback against the acquisition of land, with the faltering of Navi Mumbai Airport due to aversion from local and tribal groups. The expansion of slums around airports accommodates a large number of people who serve as a vote bank, which results in the government not wanting to shift these groups for fear of losing their electoral backing. This erodes sound urban planning, as population demands conflict with long-term infrastructure aspirations and short-term political agendas. Politicians are prone to make promises not to disturb surrounding neighbourhoods, putting off difficult decisions in election years and hampering airport modernisation. Aviation is controlled by the central government, while land administration and laws are controlled by the state, leading to bureaucratic harassment and political tensions. The government of West Bengal shelved the Purulia Airport project because of this state-central accord, similar to Trivandrum airport privatisation, which was resisted at the state level despite central sanction. In addition, airport privatisation often gives rise to charges of cronyism and persistent capitalism that benefit political parties over their rivals.

In brief, Indian cities' congested airports point towards planning failures in cities, political indecision, attempts to please the underprivileged, issues with land acquisition, and disputes between governments. Airport management, new constructions, or expansions involve reconciling development objectives with political agendas. Enhancements can encompass compensation and resettlement for ousted communities, skill development facilities in localities for airport employment, affordable housing and commercial units for locals, and zoning, followed by inclusive infrastructure planning

 

@ The author is an independent researcher.

Un-imagining the Nation: How the Idea of India Turned on Its People

 

By Asis Mistry

The idea of India was imagined through structures that excluded its margins from the start, and to move forward, we must un-imagine the nation to reimagine belonging through justice and civilizational plurality.

There has been a compelling and timely exchange of ideas on the meaning, memory, and crisis of Indian nationalism — a conversation shaped by Yogendra Yadav (“The nationalism we forgot,” Indian Express, May 27, and “The rediscovery of nationalism,” IE, June 5), Suhas Palshikar (“Who stole my nationalism?”, IE, May 31), Akeel Bilgrami (“An alternative nationalism,” IE, June 16), and G. N. Devy (“Tale of Two Nationalisms,” IE, June 30). These interventions attempt to recover what they see as a richer, more inclusive tradition of Indian nationalism — one rooted in the freedom struggle, constitutional morality, and cultural pluralism. Devy draws a sharp contrast between constitutional nationalism and the Hindutva project, while Yadav and Palshikar debate the historical omissions and contemporary distortions of the nationalist ideal. Yet, taken together, these reflections remain tethered to a foundational narrative — that Indian nationalism was, or could have been, inherently integrative. What remains insufficiently examined is whether this idea was ever structurally capable of delivering justice, or whether the exclusions and silences that mark today’s authoritarian turn were always latent within it.

Let us offer a critical intervention in the ongoing debate on Indian nationalism. It contends that the “idea of India,” long eulogised for its pluralist and democratic aspirations, has always rested on a brittle foundation — one undergirded by caste hierarchies, epistemic violence, and a statist rationality that was fundamentally hostile to radical plurality. The present turn toward an exclusionary, Hindutva-inflected nationalism is not simply a break from the past; it is a brutal intensification of latent tendencies, if not structural, in the postcolonial national project itself.

Yogendra Yadav retrieves a vision of Indian nationalism that was distinctively integrative — one that eschewed the homogenising impulses of European models and celebrated a capacious unity-in-diversity. Suhas Palshikar, more cautiously, acknowledges the aspirations of this tradition while confronting the silences and exclusions embedded within it. Both thinkers attempt to reclaim an inclusive nationalism from the wreckage of the present. Yet in doing so, they betray a nostalgia for a pluralist nationalism that, arguably, never fully existed. Their recovery of the past often obscures the deeper question: who was permitted to belong in the first place?

For all its rhetorical inclusivity, Indian nationalism has historically failed to include caste, tribe, and indigeneity in any meaningful way. The frequently invoked ideal of “belonging without othering” was never realised — not because of momentary lapses or policy failures, but because it was structurally unviable within a nation-state built on upper-caste consensus. As Ambedkar warned, political democracy without social democracy is nothing but a shell. What the nationalist movement achieved was not inclusion, but a fragile consensus curated by elites — a consensus that depended on the suppression of deep-seated inequalities and dissent. These exclusions were not accidental. They were foundational.

G. N. Devy’s distinction between constitutional nationalism and Hindutva nationalism is helpful in mapping the ideological terrain, but it ultimately flattens the complexity of India’s civilizational past. Bharat, as a civilizational entity, cannot be reduced to either of these poles. Unlike the modernist logic of nation-states that seek homogeneity, Bharat’s coherence emerged from shared difference — a continuity of layered identities, moral universes, and spiritual traditions. The current nationalist crisis, then, is not simply the clash of two opposing visions. It is the culmination of a longer historical dismemberment — a process by which colonial and postcolonial elites steadily replaced a plural civilizational consciousness with a narrow, bureaucratised, and homogenising model of statehood.

In both its Nehruvian and Hindutva iterations, the Indian state has failed to acknowledge this deeper plurality. Where Nehruvian nationalism instrumentalised diversity under the banner of unity, Hindutva nationalism weaponizes it under the banner of purity. Both have relied on the coercive apparatus of the state to discipline difference — through language policy, citizenship regimes, national security laws, and the criminalisation of dissent. In this context, Benedict Anderson’s theory of the nation as an “imagined community” requires reconsideration. Bharat was not imagined into being through print capitalism or modernist allegiances. It was lived, remembered, contested, and practised across millennia. What has been imagined — and violently enforced — is the nation-state itself: a bounded, majoritarian, and ultimately brittle political form.

While Palshikar is right to draw attention to the failures of nationalism before 2014, he still retains faith in its redeemability — in the possibility of a democratic nationalism that could correct its course. But what if that possibility was never structurally feasible? Postcolonial theorists like Partha Chatterjee have framed Indian nationalism as a derivative discourse, modelled on Western ideals. Yet this critique often stops short of interrogating how caste and upper-caste modernity shaped the very contours of nationalist imagination — in its pedagogy, its vocabulary, and its exclusions.

The violences of the present — the targeting of Muslims, the silencing of caste-based resistance, the criminalisation of protest — are not a new aberrations. They are the logical outcome of a state form that never accounted for the margins. From Kashmir to Bastar, from Dalit student suicides to the disenfranchisement of Adivasi communities, the postcolonial nation-state has failed to include. For too long, nationalism in India has depended on forgetting — forgetting caste, forgetting tribe, forgetting women, forgetting dissent.

If the nation as currently imagined is exhausted, then what comes next? The answer does not lie in recovering a lost golden age of pluralism or reinventing a softer version of nationalism. Rather, it lies in reimagining the political community itself. The civilizational idea of Bharat offers a different grammar — one that is not reducible to statehood, territory, or majoritarian culture. It gestures toward a space of overlapping moral frameworks, non-statist affiliations, and lived pluralities. But such a turn must be made without mythologising or romanticising the past. A civilizational politics is only meaningful if it is a politics of justice — if it reckons honestly with structural exclusions, rather than subsuming them under heritage or cultural pride.

This is not an academic diversion. It is a moral and political reckoning. In an era where the state has turned its power inward — criminalising citizenship, militarising campuses, and transforming nationalism into an instrument of fear — rethinking the nation is an urgent imperative. The challenge is not to rescue Indian nationalism from its present distortions, but to un-imagine the very exclusions that enabled its construction.

We must imagine anew — a community grounded not in uniformity, but in solidarity; not in fear, but in mutual recognition; not in myth, but in ethical co-existence. In that reimagining may lie the possibility of a Bharat that was never fully realised, but is still waiting to be claimed.

The author is a faculty of Political Science at the University of Calcutta

The organised mass: Mosca’s categorisation calls into question the ruling class

Angela Mahapatra

The mass has been accused of being passive and disorganised as a group, which limits their ability to lead.  Mosca, an elite theorist, has stressed the majority's lack of organising abilities, allowing the strong, powerful, economically boosted, and, finally, the organised minority, the 'elites,' to reign.  This hasty assumption about the governing class is not appropriate for decolonised countries like India.

Elite, a forgotten past

India has experienced nearly half a century of monopolistic governance by the Indian National Congress. Throughout this extensive period, the Congress has transformed from a catch-all nationalist party into a secular organisation. The elite of that era were once activists themselves. The ruling minority, the British Raj, was overthrown by the Indian National Congress. The current government is led by representatives of the “common man.” The transition of power from the “raja” to its “praja” was a lengthy process.

Why is it so simple for the state's elites to govern?  The authority in politics?  The financial support?  - Yes, all of these things combined with societal and cultural acceptability.  The unquestionable trust that everything is great, that there is no other option, that there is no reason to expect more, and finally, that it will last for survival is all bolstered by this social acceptance of the ruling minority.

As time goes on, the decline of trust and political instability among the elite gives way to the emergence of the ordinary individual.

Organisational skills, a gift to the masses

It is often claimed that the masses lack organisational skills, but in truth, they are at their strongest when they come together.

Marxist theorists have carefully articulated how working-class individuals will band together to resist exploitation by the capitalist class. Likewise, during the struggle for independence, the oppressed, mistreated, and colonised populations fought collectively for their freedom. Shared experiences of suffering, the challenges of poverty, and the burden of forced servitude fostered a sense of unity among the diverse individuals within a nation. This is what has brought the masses together.

The masses possess superior organisational abilities compared to the elites, stemming from their psychological bond of equality.

Is Mass the new class?

Democracy as a concept allows everyone the opportunity to select a leader or to become one themselves. Mosca’s categorisation of the ruling class fails to recognise the democratic principles of governance. As a concept, democracy empowers the removal of authoritarian elite control supported by the military, business sectors, and bureaucrats. Democracy serves as a motivation for all those traditional ruling ideologies that silence the voices of the populace. The events of World War I illustrated this, beginning with the emergence of Serbian nationalism that led to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

The relationship between the ruling system is determined by the majority. The masses are emerging as a new class, resonating more with their fellow citizens; this feeling of representation fosters the advancement of the masses. However, the elite are not content merely to act as elected leaders. Instances such as military coups, state emergencies, and presidential rule illustrate how the elite seek to disrupt the unity of the masses. Government forces attempt to fragment the solidarity of the populace. Upon closer inspection, it is evident that the citizens are the true holders of authority and the ones seeking power.

Ultimately, nothing exists outside of the majority's approval and recognition.

The perception of the elite as superior, coupled with their condescension towards the majority, promotes solidarity among the people. By viewing themselves as the exclusive benefactor and protector of the populace, they contribute to dismantling the elite's dominance and empowering ordinary individuals.

Common man, an underdog: अब राजा का बेटा राजा नहीं बनेगा!!

Encircled by countries grappling with political turmoil, military coups, civil conflicts, and autocratic governance, India stands strong as the democratic master of Asia. Emerging from a lengthy period dominated by a single political party and precariousness in the governance, the ascent of the Bharatiya Janata Party symbolises the empowerment of the ordinary citizen.

Currently, the world views India as a nation governed by the common man, for the common man, and of the common man. Since its inception, India has experienced changes in governance. Oppression has played a significant role in shifting power dynamics in this land.

Violence has been a crucial element in bringing the masses together throughout different historical periods. The quest for freedom has served as a rallying cry for an end to suffering, as Franz Fanon also advocates for violence after a certain threshold of endurance is reached in order to regain peace, stability, and emancipation. Violence presents a contradiction, as both the elite and the masses engage in it similarly. The elite wield violence to fracture the solidarity of the masses, while the masses resort to violence to fortify their cohesion. In modern times, violence has become an inherent aspect of any rebellion.

Unfortunately, the state of every democratic country is significantly troubled, as the ‘common man’ also exhibits certain elitist characteristics, which enhance their organisational abilities that serve as a link between those in power and the power givers.

 

@ The author is an independent researcher.