Whose mountain is it, anyway?

A view of Mt Kanchendzonga.
| Photo Credit: PTI

On May 18, five people from the National Institute of Mountaineering and Adventure Sports (NIMAS) scaled Mt Khangchendzonga from the Nepal side, prompting expressions of concern and protest by civil society groups and Sikkim Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang. Sikkim’s native population holds the mountain sacred and the State government disallows attempts to climb it or scale its peak from the Indian side. One side of Mt Khangchendzonga faces Nepal, a country that hasn’t instituted a similar ban and which the NIMAS team took advantage of.

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Tensions over mountains

There has been a resurgence of the assertion of spiritual beliefs over mountains of late. Mountains are important sources of water, which is increasingly becoming a strategic resource. They straddle geo-dynamic features we need to know to understand the land we live on. But in a world grappling with the effects of climate change, mountain ecosystems worldwide also rank among the most vulnerable. This renders the stewardship provided by indigenous communities important, especially in the form of indigenous knowledge that allowed people to coexist sustainably with their environs for centuries. Of course, there are other reasons to respect indigenous communities’ beliefs, including building resilient societies and redressing historical injustice.

In parallel, there is still a need to understand mountains from scientific and military points of view, and physical access often yields the best data. The resulting tensions have become more pronounced in the last two decades or so. As the recent incident illustrates, the key has always been stakeholder involvement and scientists and military personnel being okay with hearing the word ‘no’.

This is why work on the Thirty-Meter Telescope (of which India is a government-level member) was stalled from 2014 after the Kānaka Maoli community protested its construction on their sacred Mauna Kea. Native Hawaiians have also opposed the U.S. Space Forces AMOS-STAR project on the Haleakalā shield volcano on similar grounds. Atacameño communities in Chile have warned of “spiritual” loss over the construction of telescopes in Cerro Armazones and Cerro Paranal.

In many instances, governments presume scientific and defence needs should override indigenous rights. Surveys to assess eco-spiritual rights are often conducted after indigenous groups have mounted large protests, and not before the project is commissioned. The India-based Neutrino Observatory (INO) faced similar opposition over locals’ inability to access a temple located near the planned project site thanks to the presence of police personnel. While the INO scientists have said the police shouldn’t have been present, much less denying access to the area, the incident only illustrates the sort of heavy-handedness large and expensive projects open the door to while denying indigenous communities their rights.

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Sharper legal instruments

Fortunately, however, thanks to the initiative of civil society groups led by youth, the election of indigenous individuals to government positions, technological advances, and the pressures of climate adaptation and sustainability, the legal instruments available to assert indigenous rights are becoming sharper. The UN principle of ‘free prior and informed consent’ of indigenous peoples is bolstered by its Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and convention 169 of the International Labour Organisation. Sikkim’s notifications consecrating Mt Khangchendzonga were under the Places of Worship Act, 1991.

Overall, it is becoming cheaper both in monetary and extra-monetary ways (including the risk of reputational harm) to consult first than to litigate later. Heavy-handedness still prevails but there is progress, and governments need to be part of it, including in the arena of military action. As Article 30 of the UNDRIP says, “States shall undertake effective consultations with the indigenous peoples concerned… prior to using their lands… for military activities.”

Consultative actions that account for political variables can also ensure neither indigenous groups nor governments resort to heavy-handedness of their own. For example, a volcanology programme in 2014 involved the governments of North Korea, China, and the U.K. to study the revered Paektu mountain on the North Korea-China border to understand when it might erupt next. On the flip side, after protests in Bhutan over foreign expeditions to the Gangkhar Puensum peak, the government banned attempts to climb more than 6,000 m above sea level in 1994 and altogether banned mountaineering in 2003.

NIMAS is an autonomous institute under India’s Ministry of Defence. The NIMAS team’s endeavour on May 18 was part of the Indian Army’s ‘Har Shikhar Tiranga’ campaign to plant the Indian flag on the highest point of each State. Even if this wasn’t explicit military action, its purpose was to stoke national pride and build support for India’s war rhetoric. By sidestepping local support for its ascent and planting the Indian flag on the mountain from the Nepal side, the NIMAS team has cheapened the struggles of native peoples to lower the cost of consulting them. If it had consulted them and they had refused access, the NIMAS team could still have achieved its goal by planting the flag at another spot. National integrity is also important for national security.