Saranda forest: Supreme Court mines for a middle ground

Earlier this month (8 October), the Supreme Court ordered the Jharkhand government to declare the Saranda forest a wildlife sanctuary. The Order came after the Court noted the pressing need to protect the forest’s distinct biodiversity from illicit mining and deforestation.

The Bench of Chief Justice B.R. Gavai and Justice K.V. Chandran had earlier pulled up the state for delaying the notification of the forest despite clear directions from the Court. The Jharkhand government had initially agreed to declare 314 square kilometers of the pristine Sal forest in the Saranda game reserve as a sanctuary. After facing the prospect of contempt proceedings for delay, the Jharkhand government informed the Court that it was prepared to notify 249.164 square kilometers as sanctuary, while seeking to exclude 60 sq km that includes dense tribal habitation. On 27 October, the Court reserved its verdict on the final extent and boundaries of the proposed sanctuary.

The Steel Authority of India (SAIL), which undertakes mining activities in the Saranda forest, urged the Court to protect its mining leases. They argued that the iron ore excavated from these mines is essential to meet national interest. Further, they submitted that SAIL had complied to all environmental norms by undertaking reclamation and compensatory afforestation measures. The Bench permitted SAIL’s existing mining operations to continue under current leases, while directing the State and authorities not to grant any fresh mining leases in the area.

The Saranda-forest Order reflects the Court’s attempt at balancing the need for ecological preservation with the demands of economic growth. It has also revived the question: to what extent can the courts step in to save India’s forests, especially when local livelihoods and mining interests collide?

Conservation as a judicial concern

The Court’s concern for environmental protection has developed through a line of decisions that expanded both the scope and meaning of India’s conservation laws. A defining moment came with T.N. Godavarman Thirumulpad v Union of India (1996), where the Court held that the word “forest” is not limited to officially notified areas but must be understood in its ordinary sense. As a consequence, many regions, previously outside formal records, came within the fold of legal protection. By keeping the matter open under a continuing mandamus, the Court ensured that its orders on identifying, classifying and protecting forests would be continuously monitored.

Vellore Citizens Welfare Forum v Union of India (1996) marked another significant step in linking environmental degradation to constitutional rights. The Court noted that pollution from tanneries and industries in Tamil Nadu had seeped into farmland and water resources. This contaminated the Palar river, a vital source for drinking water. The Court observed that economic progress cannot override ecological and human considerations, bringing environmental protection within the realm of Article 21.

Sanctuary or supply line? The Court’s balancing act

Statutory frameworks such as the Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006 (FRA) and the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996 (PESA) played a crucial role in in expanding the meaning of environmental protection. These laws empowered local communities to manage and protect forest resources. The implementation of these statutory safeguards have often been inconsistent, leading to judicial scrutiny in cases such as Orissa Mining Corporation v Ministry of Environment & Forest (2013).

In Orissa Mining Corporation, the Court held that the state must obtain the informed consent of Gram Sabhas before permitting mining in tribal and ecologically sensitive areas, such as the Niyamgiri Hills. The Court observed that development projects cannot override the rights of indigenous communities or compromise critical habitats.

Yet, the Court has not always maintained this approach. In M.K. Ranjitsinh v Union of India (2024), the Court recalled its earlier blanket ban on overhead power lines in the Great Indian Bustard habitat and instead directed the constitution of an expert committee to balance “the non-negotiable need for preserving the GIB” with “the need for sustainable development.” It reasoned that renewable energy development is essential to meet India’s climate and energy objectives. While the judgement took note of the species’ endangered status, conservation experts criticised the decision for permitting renewable projects in sensitive areas without mandating comprehensive environmental impact assessments. Some media reports noted potential risks to biodiversity, warning that such rulings could set a precedent for establishing large-scale renewable infrastructure in ecologically fragile habitats without sufficient safeguards.

This balancing act by the Court raises difficult questions. Karthik Bansal, a research associate at the Centre for Social and Economic Progress (CSEP), said that the real challenge lies not in the Court’s intent but in the state’s capacity: “The Supreme Court steps in when executive enforcement fails, but it still relies on that same executive to follow through. In cases like Saranda, the problem is not judicial philosophy but bureaucratic inertia.”

While the Saranda Order feels like a judicial victory, the ground reality is complex. Many villages within the proposed boundary are yet to receive recognition of their community forest rights under the FRA. There is often a risk of the community being displaced. Reflecting on other instances, Bansal pointed out:“In general, when forest land is converted into a reserve or a sanctuary, many communities living there end up being displaced or restricted in their access,” he said. He explained that if recognition of forest rights under the FRA is incomplete, declaring protected areas prematurely can risk criminalising subsistence.“The people who depend on these forests are neither consulted nor compensated adequately.”

Bansal explains that the Court’s approach is often case-dependent, shaped by the clarity of facts and intensity of conflict. “When a case is so apparently concerning, the court cannot take a convenient position. But if you leave it upon the court, the court is happy to take a convenient position as well.”

In Saranda, a combination of mining interests, forest rights and tribal habitation has complicated implementation. Bansal adds, “Prolonged mining activities around wildlife sanctuaries affect the fauna, but communities are moved and rights are often unrecognised. The Supreme Court can intervene, but systematic solutions require more than case-by-case orders.”

Faultlines on the ground

Experts point out that the Saranda order reveals deeper structural issues in India’s mining governance framework. Atri Roy Chowdhury, a Delhi-based lawyer who represents mining companies, explained that a core reason for delay lies in the absence of clear, ground-level demarcation between revenue and forest land. “Mining industries, after being declared successful bidders and upon obtaining vesting orders, discover only later that portions of the vested mining land fall within wildlife movement corridors or are classified as deemed forest land. These classifications are not always reflected in revenue records or disclosed at the stage of bidding. It is only during forest clearance scrutiny, sometimes after substantial investment, that these overlaps are flagged, causing significant delay in approvals and financial repercussions.”

Earlier this year, replying to a question in the Lok Sabha, Kirti Vardhan Singh, the Minister of State for Environment, Forest and Climate Change, informed that 1.73 lakh hectares of forest land was cleared for non-forest activity between 2014-15 to 2023-24. Singh, added that forest land was permitted for non-forestry use only in unavoidable circumstances, with “adequate mitigation measures including raising of compensatory afforestation and payment of net present value.”

A fragile equilibrium

In Saranda, the Court once again had to walk a tightrope between the demands of development and the principles of environmental preservation. Its directive compels Jharkhand to act, yet stops short of dictating how far protection must extend. As Bansal points out, “Simply declaring a sanctuary does not protect wildlife if surrounding areas are degraded. Open-pit mining affects water, air and corridors beyond the sanctuary boundaries.”