In Bihar’s Bhojpur district, communities living along the Sone River have witnessed a steady decline in water quality. “Earlier, we drank from the river and fed our cattle,” says Ramjee Paswan, a local farmer. “Now even the fish are gone.”
Industrial waste dumping and illegal sand mining have not only degraded the environment, but also displaced livelihoods, eroding food security, community cohesion and traditional economies. The damage unfolds slowly - no gas leaks, no floods - just a quiet, persistent collapse of ecosystems. However, it is no less devastating.
India is in the grip of a systemic ecological degradation that demands immediate legal and policy attention. While high-profile disasters such as the Bhopal gas tragedy (1984) and the Visakhapatnam gas leak (2020), as well as recent mining collapses in Panna, have sparked public outrage, they are merely visible signs of a much more profound and ongoing crisis. Underneath these headline-grabbing events, a slower but equally destructive erosion of environmental integrity is taking place. Rivers are being poisoned, forests are steadily depleted, biodiversity is pushed to the brink and entire ecosystems are being dismantled.
The 2023 report by Down To Earth, analysing the India State of Forest Report (ISFR), revealed a troubling trend. While overall forest and tree cover saw a marginal increase, there was significant degradation within existing dense forest areas, with thousands of square kilometres losing their ecological richness and resilience due to factors like canopy reduction and conversion to less dense categories. Such data underscores a sobering reality: India’s legal frameworks have not evolved to match the scale, complexity and urgency of contemporary environmental degradation.
India has an extensive set of environmental regulations, including the Environment Protection Act, the Forest Conservation Act, the Air and Water Acts and rules governing hazardous substances, biodiversity and wildlife. Courts have played an active role, and the National Green Tribunal (NGT) was established to provide a specialised forum for environmental litigation.
However, sanctions tend to be nominal and rarely deter powerful corporate or political actors, who can absorb them as a cost of doing business. The NGT lacks jurisdiction over specific environmental laws and is unable to prosecute cases involving criminal intent or recklessness. Moreover, the burden of proof frequently falls on affected communities who often lack resources, legal knowledge or institutional support to sustain lengthy battles. Consequently, large-scale environmental destruction often goes unpunished, or worse, legally invisible as a crime.
The Supreme Court has recognised that nature has intrinsic value independent of human use. Landmark rulings, such as TN Godavarman Thirumulpad v. Union of India, expanded the definition of forests and emphasised intergenerational equity. In Chandra CFS v. Customs, the Madras High Court referred to deforestation as an act of “unbridled ecocide.” However, the term “ecocide” remains absent from any statute. These judicial remarks, although significant, remain aspirational norms and, therefore, lack enforceability or deterrent value.
The idea of criminalising ecocide is no longer theoretical. In February 2024, Belgium became the first EU member state to include ecocide in its penal code, defining it as acts causing widespread, long-term and severe damage to ecosystems. France has already passed similar legislation. In the Global South, countries like Mexico, Vietnam and the Maldives are moving in the same direction. At the international level, there is growing support for recognising ecocide as the fifth core crime under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court alongside genocide, war crimes, crimes against humanity and crimes of aggression.
This global momentum recognises what India has yet to do: environmental harm is not merely a matter of regulation, it is a question of justice. A domestic ecocide law would address two critical governance gaps: accountability and deterrence. It would shift focus from mere compliance to primary responsibility. Crucially, it would enable prosecution not only of operational failures, but also policy-level decisions by corporate boards or public officials that knowingly lead to irreversible ecological harm.
An Indian ecocide law could serve as a bridge between modern legal frameworks and the ecological wisdom of indigenous communities. For centuries, Adivasi and forest-dwelling peoples have practised sustainable living, preserving biodiversity and respecting the rights of non-human life. Recognising ecocide in law could be coupled with statutory recognition of these communities as ecological stewards, granting them legal standing and enforceable participatory rights - including free, prior and informed consent for projects that affect their lands and waters. From a constitutional standpoint, such legislation would advance Article 21 (the right to life), Article 48A (the state’s duty to protect the environment) and Article 51A(g) (the citizen’s duty to safeguard nature). It would also give teeth to principles already invoked by Indian courts, such as the polluter-pays principle and the public trust doctrine.
A well-drafted ecocide law must define the offence in terms of scale, severity and duration of environmental harm. It should apply to individuals and entities alike, including corporations and government bodies. Provisions should include criminal liability, community restitution and ecosystem restoration. It should harmonise with existing legislation. At the same time, it must introduce a higher threshold of accountability by linking intent, negligence and ecological consequence. The drafting process must be inclusive, drawing on legal expertise, environmental science, indigenous knowledge and public consultation to ensure a comprehensive approach. This will ensure that the law is not just symbolic, but also enforceable and fair and that it reflects the diverse perspectives and needs of all stakeholders.
A month since World Environment Day, India has an opportunity to lead by example. The Ministry of Environment, Forests and Climate Change, working in collaboration with the Ministry of Law and Justice, could begin by constituting an expert committee to explore the feasibility of an ecocide law and draft a model bill. Parliamentarians should be encouraged to raise the issue through private members’ bills and recommendations from standing committees. Civil society can play a vital role in building public awareness and mobilising citizen support. Law schools, academic institutions, bar councils and civil service academies can contribute to the mainstreaming of environmental justice in professional training and research.
Ecocide is not just a legal omission; it is a moral blind spot. It is not merely about enacting a new law; it is about redefining what we accept as justice. As the climate crisis intensifies and natural systems approach tipping points, the need for legal frameworks that reflect our shared responsibility becomes increasingly urgent.
In protecting nature, we are ultimately protecting ourselves. The time to act is not tomorrow. It is now.
GS Bajpai is the Vice-Chancellor of National Law University, Delhi, where Shrawani is a senior research fellow. Views are personal.