The Supreme Court of India’s recognition of the Right Against The Adverse Effects of Climate Change (RAAECC) in MK Ranjithsinh may initially appear as a significant victory. However, the judgment presents a narrow and anthropocentric view of climate change mitigation, elevating human interests while sidelining critical ecocentric concerns. It simplifies energy transition by equating a move away from fossil fuels with a seamless shift to renewables, without considering broader implications. Moreover, it overlooks key issues like land use conflicts, displacement of communities, and accessibility of renewable energy for the poor. By focusing on mitigation alone, the court fails to address adaptation and resilience-building, which are crucial for vulnerable populations. In a nutshell, the judgement’s tractability and ostensible neutrality encases a problematic hierarchy between anthropocentric and ecocentric interests, leaving essential aspects of climate justice unaddressed.
Climate as a shield
MK Ranjithsinh was never about climate change. It was a straightforward case aimed at protecting the Great Indian Bustard (GIB) by halting harmful economic activities in its shrinking habitat. One such activity was the installation of overhead transmission lines for renewable energy projects. The court, in an earlier order, had directed that low-voltage power lines in the GIB’s habitat be laid underground, recognising that over a lakh birds, including GIBs, die annually from collisions with these lines. Crucially, climate change was not invoked as a factor in the GIB’s endangerment or as a justification for the powerlines.
In MK Ranjithsinh, the key ask by the Ministry of Environment, Forests and Climate Change, the Ministry of Power, and the Ministry of New and Renewable Energy was to modify the order, introducing climate change as a justification for installing overhead transmission lines. Until this point, the case focused solely on habitat preservation. Now, the state has weaponised the rhetoric of climate change, arguing that the order would impede India’s transition from fossil fuels and hinder the supposed urgency of expanding renewable energy infrastructure. It invoked India’s commitments under the Paris Agreement and claimed that the GIB’s habitat was rich in solar and wind energy potential. Couched in the language of efficiency, the core argument was that putting transmission lines underground would be expensive and not feasible. The arguments for modification in effect shifted the debate from the protection of the GIB and ensuing claims of justice to one of supremacy of energy transition and the most efficient ways of pursuing that goal.
The state’s argument was a cynical use of climate change – a hollow appeal to a global cause to justify ecological destruction. By cherry-picking the Paris Agreement, the state sought to greenwash an anthropocentric energy agenda, sacrificing biodiversity at the altar of efficiency and viability. The political economy at play here is clear: the state prioritised economic gain over genuine ecological responsibility. It reduced the complexity of climate action to a simplistic defence of harmful infrastructure, painting renewable energy expansion as an absolute good, regardless of the ecological fallout. This selective deployment of international law while ignoring more relevant environmental protections (more on this below) was nothing more than a smokescreen to bulldoze through a weak argument.
On this flimsy basis, the court in MK Ranjithsinh minted India’s newest constitutional right: the right against the adverse effects of climate change.
Simple rhetoric, hollow promises and high praise for renewables
The operative portion of MK Ranjithsinh makes no mention of climate change, its concomitant harms, or the essential principles of mitigation and adaptation that must underpin climate-related action. Perhaps most egregiously, not a single line is dedicated to safeguarding the GIB – the very subject and genesis of the case. Almost shirking its responsibility, the court passes the buck to “experts” to decide, on a case-by-case basis, where transmission lines can or cannot be placed. While this might keep the balance intact between the judiciary and executive, what is concerning is how the court arrived at this operative portion and its deferral to experts, all while minting a new fundamental right – the contours of which are, at best, nebulous.
MK Ranjithsinh praises renewable energy and the promise it holds, but this dangerously simplifies the political economy of energy transition. The court assumes that simply shifting from coal to renewable sources will bolster the fight against climate change. It even observes that renewables bring socio-economic benefits, improve public health, reduce drudgery among women, and promote social equity. This is, however, a rather simplistic view and unworthy of the highest court in the country. The court seems to imply that phasing out fossil fuels like coal will be directly replaced by solar and wind energy. This assumption is misleading. In reality, the transition involves gas, nuclear energy, and large hydro projects – none of which are particularly climate-friendly. What is truly shocking is that over the last couple of years there have been multiple instances where clean energy solutions have been pushed through without considering the indigenous communities that bear the brunt of this transition. Examples from Gujarat, Himachal Pradesh, the Western Ghats, and Karnataka are a few from recent memory.
In one of India’s highest altitude places, Changthang, falling under the union territory of Ladakh has been marked for a 13 gigawatt integrated renewable energy project amidst concerns of development induced displacement, failure of legal processes and massive local protests. Famous scientist Sonam Wangchuk belonging to Ladakh was on a “climate” fast unto death to make their demands heard and has recently marched on the national capital where he was detained and refused the right to assembly (another fundamental right under the Indian constitution).
These are not isolated incidents.
Across India, energy transition projects clash with indigenous rights and cause chronic impoverishment, often supported by a legal framework that bypasses the requirement of free, prior, and informed consent. The point however is simple. Renewable energy is not a silver bullet, and any discourse around it ought to have been put forward authentically as opposed to heralding it as the easiest solution just around the corner.
Most disturbingly, the judgment elevates the RAAECC to a fundamental right but fails to address the rights of people displaced by renewable energy megaprojects. There is no protection for communities impacted by development-induced displacement. How will the rights of these displaced people be balanced against the new fundamental right? The court did not explore this.
By neglecting these realities, the judgment fails not just the GIB, but also the very people it claims to protect. In fact, the judgment is neither ecocentric nor fully anthropocentric – it favours a particular class within the Anthropocene, mostly elites who do not bear the brunt of this energy transition. The communities most affected, often the most vulnerable, are left to shoulder the costs of development, while those who benefit remain insulated from its consequences.
One flew over the treaties’ nest
In MK Ranjithsinh, the court seems to have flown over the treaties’ nest, selectively cherry-picking international legal instruments that fit its narrative. While the Paris Agreement is a crucial international document, it is by no means the only one relevant to this case. In a case centered on conservation, it was paramount for the Court—if it chose to engage with international treaties— crucial instruments like the While the Paris Agreement is important, it’s not the only relevant treaty in this case. The Court should have balanced its reliance on the Paris Agreement with other crucial instruments like the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands, and the Universal Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth —all of which focus on biodiversity and habitat protection.
India’s legal and policy framework around climate change is fragmented, disjunct and mostly without teeth. It’s environmental protections around forests are constantly diluted and the forests themselves are under attack, its requirements of conducting public hearings for energy projects are often given a tokenistic space or completely ignored and environmental harms continue unabated often clothed in the banality of legal procedure with the Environmental Impact Assessment Notification and the Coastal Regulation Zone Notification thoroughly beaten to submission with myriad amendments through the years. While MK Ranjithsinh briefly traces the ‘right to environment’ as a precursor to the right against adverse effects of climate change it conspicuously refuses to engage with the paradigm within which such rights are routine flouted and reduced to tatters.
India’s climate action is woefully insufficient. The reality is that India will continue burning and increasing its reliance on fossil fuels for years to come, given the extreme levels of income inequality and the need for development. In this context, the court’s extensive praise of renewable energy – a mitigation strategy – seems ill-conceived. If the court was determined to uncover a fundamental right against the adverse effects of climate change under Articles 14 and 21 of the constitution, it should have emphasised adaptation. The court briefly acknowledges that climate change impacts different groups and individuals unequally and that human rights issues are embedded in it. However, it then proceeds to neglect the unevenly differential and distributed impacts of renewable energy projects and infrastructure work, while promoting a sub-right focused on mitigation under the broader right against climate harms.
Courts in India, like many in the Global South, will play a pivotal role in shaping climate action through litigation. It is incumbent upon these courts to move beyond empty rhetoric and hold the state accountable to more than broad and hollow claims. The question remains: will the loose right proposed by the Court in MK Ranjithsinh be given real substance, or will it be co-opted to perpetuate business as usual, continuing to allow environmental degradation and social injustice to flourish?
Atreyo Banerjee is a lawyer working at Agami, a nonprofit organisation advancing innovation in law and justice.
