印度城市为什么一团糟？因为它们并非以人为本
2023-05-13 08:33阅读：
浏览经济学人智库的2022年全球宜居城市指数，会发现印度城市位于排名榜的垫底部分。在173个上榜城市中，新德里、孟买、金奈和艾哈迈达巴德分别排名140、141、142和143位，班加罗尔排名第146位。该指数衡量全世界城市的稳定性、医疗、文化、环境、教育和基础设施。那么，如何解释一个自称经济强国的国家的城市竟然处于如此糟糕的境地？
答案在于误导性的城市发展方法：沉溺于修建旨在展现崛起中国家政治经济影响力和雄心壮志的项目。但此类举措往往仅惠及少数人，导致大多数印度城市居民在越来越不宜居的环境中备受煎熬。
随着上世纪90年代印度走向经济自由化且国家经济增长，城市成为印度崛起的“展厅”。许多城市发展的目的不再是改善民众生活。相反，印度迫切希望城市能看起来更像全球人才、资本、创新和文化流动的枢纽。在政治领导人和规划者看来，这么做关乎国家自豪感，也能展现这个国家的全球雄心。
Why are Indian cities a mess? Because they're not about
people
Somdeep Sen
Glance over the Economist Intelligence Unit’s 2022 “Global
Liveability Index” and you will find Indian cities in the bottom
half of the rankings. Of the 173 cities on the list, New Delhi is
ranked 140, Mumbai 141, Chennai 142 and Ahmedabad 143
. Bengaluru was adjudged the least liveable of the Indian cities
considered, with a rank of 146.
The index measures stability, healthcare, culture and environment,
education, and infrastructure in cities around the world. So what
explains the dire state of cities in a country that claims to be an
economic powerhouse?
The answer lies in a misguided approach to urban development, which
focuses on marquee, grand projects meant to showcase political and
economic clout and the ambitions of a rising nation. But such
initiatives often benefit only a select few and leave the majority
of urban Indians languishing in an ever-more unliveable
environment.
Road to symbolism
In the years after independence in 1947, India focused on ensuring
state control and oversight of building activity, land use and
prices at a time when affordable housing and haphazard urban
development were challenges. In fact, India’s First Five Year Plan
(1951-1956) and Second Five Year Plan (1956-1961) included a slew
of state-led public housing schemes focused on providing subsidised
housing for industrial workers, low-income groups as well as
affordable rental housing schemes for state government employees
who were the bulk of the organised workforce at the time
But with the economic liberation of the 1990s and the growth of the
national economy, the city became an exposition of rising India.
Urban development was no longer aimed at bettering the lives of
citizens. Instead, the aspiration was to make the city look like a
hub of global flows of talent, capital, innovation and culture.
Doing so, according to political leaders and planners, was a matter
of national pride and indicative of the country’s global
ambitions.
The jingoism around such megaprojects cannot be missed. It was
palpable a few weeks ago when, in the middle of chants of “Modi,
Modi”, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi inaugurated a 118km (73
miles) expressway between Bengaluru and Mysuru in the southern
state of Karnataka. The timing was political — the state votes for
its legislature on May 10.
And the messaging was aspirational. Addressing the crowd, Modi
said, “Youth are taking immense pride in witnessing the growth of
our nation. All these projects will open up the pathways of
prosperity and development.”
Similarly, as part of a $1.7bn project to redevelop the
administrative centre of the national capital, New Delhi, Modi
renamed a major street that used to be called “Kingsway” during
British rule and by its Hindi equivalent “Rajpath” after
independence. Its new name? Kartavya Path — “kartavya” means
responsibility. “Symbol of colonialism ‘Kingsway’ will be history
and has been erased forever,” Modi said on the occasion. “I
congratulate all the people of the country as we come out from
another symbol of colonialism.”
This jingoism is not a uniquely Modi affliction though. It was also
unmistakable when the Indian capital hosted the 2010 Commonwealth
Games, when the Congress party — now in opposition — was in power.
On the eve of the games, Suresh Kalmadi, the head of the organising
committee for the event said, “The city is 10 years ahead now.
Earlier, people would fly from Delhi to Dubai, Singapore, and many
other destinations. Now they will land here, see the beautiful
city”.
But Modi has taken this philosophy — where urban development is
first and foremost a symbol of national pride — to new heights,
especially with a futuristic-sounding Smart Cities Mission.
Launched in 2015, the mission promised 100 smart cities, with
tech-driven, sustainable, and citizen-centric solutions, by
2023.
Whose city?
But who are all of these cities being built for? In a bid to spruce
up the image of New Delhi before the Commonwealth Games, some
350,000 street vendors were declared “illegal” and a “major
security risk”. Their jobs didn’t matter.
In fact, according to the Housing and Land Rights Network (HLRN)
charity, at least 200,000 people were also evicted from their slums
and shanties between 2004 and 2010 in preparation for the games in
the capital. This was in violation of the UN Basic Principles and
Guidelines on Development-based Evictions and Displacement. Amnesty
International reported that while most evictees were then housed in
temporary shelters, these lacked adequate water and sanitation and
were not fit for habitation.
It’s been the same story with the smart cities. In 2017, for
instance, forced evictions and demolitions of homes were reported
in 32 cities implementing smart city initiatives. In 2018, as part
of the city of Indore’s effort to become “smart”, 110 homes of
mostly Dalit slum-dwellers were demolished. This was in addition to
the more than 500 homes that were demolished the previous year. In
fact, at the time, an estimated 30 people each hour were being
forcibly evicted across India as a result of smart city projects
and urban beautification schemes.
Then there is the focus on tech-driven solutions. Take the digital
and online platforms set up to gather citizens’ feedback on smart
city projects. The massive digital divide in India means that these
platforms are largely inaccessible to the most marginalised and
vulnerable urban communities — which are also the most likely to be
victims of forced expulsions and forced removals as a direct result
of these smart city-making projects.
‘Smart or stupid city?’
In 2019, I met residents of a rehabilitation colony for
slum-dwellers in Mumbai who had recently been forcibly evicted from
their homes in another part of the city as a result of an urban
beautification project. When I asked what they thought of Modi’s
smart city plan, one of them asked, “Smart or stupid city?” As the
others laughed, he continued: “We feel like we are disposable
people. They have disposed us to the outskirts of the city and
forgotten about us. Just left us to die.”
Then another resident chimed in, “But they can’t get rid of us. Who
will cook for them, drive their cars, clean their houses, take out
their trash? Without us, their lives will come to a standstill. We
live in slums so they can live in their high rises”.
Yet Modi’s public relations machinery has so far managed to ensure
that those sentiments that I heard in Mumbai don’t translate into a
political backlash against his government. I recently asked a
migrant worker in Mumbai his prediction regarding next year’s
national election. He replied, “Modiji will stay in power.” When I
asked why he thought so, he said, “Haven’t you seen the sea-link,
the tall skyscrapers? Even G20 is coming to Mumbai.”
The Mumbai sea-link, an elevated eight-lane bridge that connects
otherwise congested western and central Mumbai, actually preceded
the BJP-led national government. The G20 presidency, currently with
India, is rotated — not any recognition of Modi. And when foreign
dignitaries recently arrived in Mumbai for a G20 event, informal
settlements along the highway were reportedly draped with green
sheets as a way of beautifying the city.
Still, pitching urban development as a national cause clearly works
politically. But it does little to solve the crises faced by
India’s cities. It is only when urban development is focused on the
most marginalised and vulnerable can cities truly belong to all,
and genuinely become liveable.
