Introduction
The recent uproar over the Telangana government’s plan to cut down over 400 acres of trees in Hyderabad’s Kancha Gachibowli region has sparked an online storm. Social media platforms have been flooded with videos, memes, and commentaries, generating a collective emotional response. However, such moments of digital moral protest, while powerful in visibility, do not always translate into lasting political or legal consequences. The question remains whether this surge of online sentiment can sustain long-term resistance or policy transformation. To truly understand the roots of the controversy, one must look beyond the surface of environmental concern and examine how legal structures enable the state to act in the name of conservation. This requires a critical engagement with conservation not merely as a tool for environmental safeguard, but also as a mechanism of territorialisation—a means through which the state asserts control over land, often side-lining ecological knowledge, community voices, and democratic processes.
Historical Background of the Land
Although the 400 acres in question were part of a 2,300-acre parcel allotted to the University of Hyderabad in 1974, the land has always legally belonged to the state government. Over time, the government allocated parts of this parcel for public infrastructure projects such as a bus depot, a telephone exchange, an IIIT campus, and the Gachibowli stadium. In 2003, the disputed 400 acres were handed over to a private sports firm, but the allotment was cancelled in 2006 due to non-use, leading to a protracted legal dispute. The Supreme Court ultimately upheld the Telangana government’s ownership rights (Pisharody 2025).
However, the controversy persists because these 400 acres were never formally demarcated or notified as forest land, even though they form part of the larger forest ecosystem surrounding the university. Protesters have invoked the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in T. N. Godavarman Thirumulpad v. Union of India (1996), which held that any land with significant forest cover qualifies as “forest” regardless of notification status. Environmental groups like Save City Forest have emphasized the ecological importance of the area, noted the presence of Schedule-I species and calling for proper environmental assessments before any land-use change. Some activists have even proposed declaring the land a National Park, pointing to precedents like the KBR National Park in Hyderabad, which was similarly transformed from private estate land to protected forest in the 1990s (Pisharody 2025).
The Legal Angle: Law, Territory, and Legitimate Control
The government claims legal legitimacy under frameworks like the Telangana Water, Land, and Trees Act (WALTA), 2002, which allows for the felling of trees for state-approved projects. However, this raises deeper questions about the state’s power to unilaterally designate and use fallow or ‘unused’ lands, often in the name of public good or conservation.
Here, legal anthropologist Sally Falk Moore’s concept of the semi-autonomous social field becomes crucial. According to Moore (2001), law is not a self-contained system but is constantly reshaped by and embedded within social contexts. The state’s authority over land is not merely a legal right but a socially contested process that reflects historical inequalities in access and control. In this case, the law is both a tool and a theatre of power—a mechanism through which the state claims authority over ecological spaces while dismissing alternative community claims or ecological narratives.
Political Ecology: Conservation, Displacement, and Power
From an ecological and sociological standpoint, this controversy mirrors a long-standing pattern of territorialisation in conservation. As Rangarajan and Shahabuddin (2006) explain, conservation in India has historically involved displacing local communities and asserting state control over forests and commons. The discourse of “fallow” or “underutilized” land is itself politically loaded—what is fallow to the state may be sacred, biodiverse, or socially important to local communities.
The use of conservation as a developmental alibi is not new. It allows the state to consolidate land, facilitate private investment, or control urban expansion under the pretext of ecological management. As scholars such as Büscher and Fletcher (2019) argue in their proposal for convivial conservation, there is a need to move beyond fortress-style conservation towards models that incorporate justice, equity, and local knowledge.
Conclusion: Reimagining Legal Ecologies
The Hyderabad case reveals the tension between legality and legitimacy. The law may permit the state to control and convert land, but the broader legitimacy of such actions is increasingly questioned by ecologists, citizens, and scholars alike. It is time to revisit and revise conservation laws to reflect not just ecological goals but also democratic participation, local knowledge, and social justice.
As both Moore (2001) and Rangarajan & Shahabuddin (2006) remind us, law and conservation are not neutral. They are historically situated, politically charged, and socially contested. The question, then, is not just can the state cut trees—but who decides, for whom, and at what cost?
1. Büscher, B. & Fletcher, R. (2019). Towards Convivial Conservation. Conservation and Society. 17(3): 283–296.
2. Moore, S.F. (2001). Certainties Undone: Fifty Turbulent Years of Legal Anthropology, 1949–1999. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (NS). 7(1): 95–116.
3. Pisharody, R. V. 2025. Kancha Gachibowli Land Issue: All You Need To Know About the Protests in Hyderabad. The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/article/explained/kancha-gachibowli-forest-issue-9926884
4. Rangarajan, M., & Shahabuddin, G. (2006). Displacement and Relocation from Protected Areas: Towards a Biological and Historical Synthesis. Conservation and Society. 4(3): 359–378.
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Shailendra Ahirwar is pursuing an MA in Sociology from the Department of Sociology, Delhi School of Economics (DSE), University of Delhi.