Climate Change and Development: Walking the tightrope

My article on the interaction between climate change and development was chosen and published in the special edition of Outreach - a multi-stakeholder magazine on climate change and sustainable development for COP 19 in Warsaw, Poland.
The link to the article is here: http://www.stakeholderforum.org/sf/outreach/index.php/previous-editions/cop-19/194-climate-and-development/11591-climate-and-development-walking-the-tightrope

The article is pasted below:

Climate and development: Walking the tightrope

Surabhi Shankar, Harvard Kennedy School

Typhoon Haiyan which struck the Philippines recently, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction, served as a rude wake-up call to climate change sceptics and governments alike. In recent years, the frequency and severity of weather-related disasters has been on the rise worldwide, causing extensive economic, environmental and social damage. In developing countries particularly, the damage derails development and in many cases, sets them back by many years. Communities in Indonesia and India that were hit by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami are still recuperating, in spite of several years of massive and determined restoration efforts. Coincidentally, most of the small island states under the UNFCCC that are more vulnerable to climate change related disasters are also developing or underdeveloped nations. From a starkly different perspective, carbon emissions in emerging economies are rapidly rising, fuelled by a strong focus on economic development. A study conducted by a Dutch environmental agency and the European Commission’s Research Group pegged the cumulative emissions of China and other emerging economies since 1850 at 48 per cent of global emissions. These factors together put the spotlight on the relationship between climate change and development and the need to develop a robust framework to ensure sustainable development for all stakeholders while tackling the issue head on.

The potential areas of focus in the debate on climate change and development include:

• Climate negotiations and financing
• Policy design and implementation
• Disaster relief and management

Climate negotiations are critical, particularly to voice the concerns of Least Developed Countries (LDCs) and Small Island Developing States (SIDS), against whom emission-effect ratios are highly skewed. Assistance here is essential, be it in the form of legal support to organisations, building a knowledge base to support arguments or pro-bono advisor support in framing climate policies, trade regulations, and climate taxes. Climate finance is another major area for intervention. Initiatives like the Green Climate Fund provide much needed impetus towards a low emission, climate resilient path for developing countries. These initiatives become particularly important in supporting programmes that may not be economically profitable, by providing a reliable ‘bridge’ until they become viable for private sector participation.

No amount of negotiation or funds can replace the power of sustainable, climate-friendly policies in driving change. Repeated bouts of dense smog in major cities in China thanks to widespread and unabated use of cheap coal have finally pushed the Chinese government to adopt energy and air quality measures. Similar policy regulations are being taken by cities like Delhi and Tehran. Energy efficiency is another major focus area. Faced with rising fuel costs and a huge power deficit, resource-constrained economies like India are enforcing efficiency norms, such as standards for lighting systems, green building codes and regulations for power producers. However, more needs to be done in this area to facilitate fast, widespread implementation. Finally, a mammoth push towards renewables is needed through policy. Though several technologies in wind and solar have already attained grid parity, further research investments are required to bring down costs and ensure universal adoption.

Disaster relief and management is the quintessential third leg needed to balance this equation. Long-term actions on mitigating climate change involving negotiations, financing and policy will do little to change impending disasters that are bound to pummel countries worldwide. Thus, robust disaster management systems with effective feedback learning loops are crucial. A fraction of the relief funds must be channeled towards building mechanisms to pre-empt and tackle future expected disasters. These could range from huge investments in disaster management systems or simple measures like training locals in identifying the symptoms before a tsunami. Efforts should be made both by aid agencies and national/local governments to actively learn from similar situations in the past and incorporate these lessons in meeting future natural disasters head on.

Climate and development is, and will continue to be, a burning topic in the coming decades. However, fruitful negotiations, strong action-oriented policies and efficient disaster management can provide effective solutions in tackling what needs to be the biggest concern of humankind today.

There she goes.

"Shyamal..." screamed the voice of his supervisor. Shyamal who was squatting on a flat stone, cussed, bit his beedi and spat. "Coming!" he shouted back as he leaned his lithe athletic body forward and stood up with a brisk move. Throwing the rest of his beedi down, he rubbed and buried it into the ground with his foot and walked towards the building site where he worked. As he approached the huge building, he squinted upwards. It was a hot Delhi day and the sun was beating down on the entire city mercilessly. As he walked, his supervisor signalled impatiently to him to come quicker. Shyamal glared at the rotund, short fellow with his yellow plastic cap and jogged reluctantly forward. Holding his elbow, the supervisor led him to a corner and stared at him. "Kya?", asked Shyamal irritatedly. "I'm sorry Shyamal, but we are going to have to let you go" came the words, hurriedly, sheepishly. Shyamal stared back, not grasping what his supervisor had just said. He stuttered, "But.. but.. I wasn't loitering around again... that was my lunch break! I was smoking my beedi during my lunch break. What are you saying?". "Shyamal, it's not your fault. They are stopping construction here and diverting a smaller number of people into another site in Gurgaon. It's not just you... We are letting 50 others go. Here's the money for all the work that you have done this month. I ask you to leave right now." said his supervisor holding a thin empty-looking envelope. Shyamal snatched the envelope, looked inside and raised his fist to punch the supervisor as he suddenly realized what had happened. As if on cue, two security guards caught him - one grasped his wrist and the other his shoulders, overpowered him, dragged him out screaming and threw him out of the building into the hot afternoon.

"Perfect, just perfect... it had to happen. It's all because of her!" thought Shyamal angrily as he briskly walked out of the construction site towards the bunch of temporary huts that swam into view in the dusty horizon. On reaching the settlement, he jogged towards his own hut and pushed open the black door. The door creaked open and he stormed inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, cool darkness inside, he saw her looking intently at him from the other end of the room. She immediately smiled as she always did and her eyes crinkled when she saw him looking back at her. Shyamal lunged across the room, reached the cot and hit her across the face. Her eyes teared up as she looked back at him. She never cried loudly and this irritated him more and he hit her again. The wound on her cheek from yesterday's beatings opened up and a fresh drop of blood streamed down her cheek and diluted with her teardrops.

"Do you know what happened today?", he screamed. "I lost my job. Again. Yes, the fourth one in five months... and it's all because of you!" She continued sobbing softly as she rubbed the wound on her cheek with her dusty palm. "Since you came into my life, you have brought only bad luck. First I lost my father and then these land sharks came and took away my own land for my father's loans. Everyone nagged me to go to the city and find a job and I came, dragging you along. I should have realized back then that you would bring me nothing but more misery. I came here and see what happened? I lost job after job, thanks to you. I've had enough! Enough!" he screamed as he walked back across the room, struck a matchstick, lit a flame in the chulha and placed an iron rod in it. He then lit a beedi and walked towards her and she lay on the cot cowering. He dragged her down and threw her on the floor. She screamed loudly at the impact and tried to sit up again. He pounced on her and thrashed her with all his fury. Taking the lit beedi, he lifted her thin shirt and burned it into the skin on her back as she screeched. As her wailing got louder, he continued burning the beedi into different points in her back, a manic glint in his eye, as he created a pattern that meshed with last week's dulled beedi marks. Her sobbing grew softer and stopped as she fainted from the pain. Irritated, Shyamal lifted himself up and picked up the hot iron rod from the chulha and placed it on her back. She jolted back to consciousness and screamed. He threw the rod aside and hit her over and over again as she cried. He then picked her up and threw her against the wall. She fell on the floor, shuddered and went still. He stared and realized that life had left her. Regret quickly crossed his mind as he realized what he had done and his expression softened. Shyamal then walked across the room and gently picked her up, placed her on the cot and walked towards the door. As he opened the door, he turned and looked back for a moment at the now lifeless body of his ten month old daughter, sighed and walked out.


Note: This piece is written as a tribute to Baby Falak and the scores of other children who were tortured, battered, wounded and beaten to death by their own kith and kin. Baby Falak died on March 15th last year at a Delhi hospital after suffering unimaginable torture. Her story led to national and international outrage over the horrific treatment of baby girls in our country and brought hope that something would be done about it. Today, less than a year after Baby Falak's death, she's almost forgotten and that faint hope of a better tomorrow for other babies is dead. In the last year, Baby Falak was followed by Baby Afreen, Baby Ahuti Joshi, Baby Shireen, Baby Tanaaz and tens of other innocent, helpless infants who were murdered by those who bore or sired them. They are not with us today and are not going to be the wonderful, strong women that they would have grown up to be. However, this Women's day, let us all resolve to punish the miscreants and murderers and to put an end to this. And let us all spare a thought for those innocent little children and hope that they have departed to a better world.

Rethinking PPPs in renewables through community participation: A developing nation perspective

I co-authored an article that was published in Outreach: a multi-stakeholder magazine on climate change and sustainable development.

The link to the article can be found here. The full text of the article is below:

The International Energy Agency estimates that 1.4 billion people will continue to lack electricity access in 2030. Renewable energy offers a sustainable alternative to bridge this huge gap. Increasing awareness around climate change caused by fossil fuels mandates continued development of renewable energy, despite recent discoveries of new fossil fuel sources. With decreasing system costs, ability to provide energy access in remote, off-grid locations and the imminence of grid parity in the future, both public and private entities stand to benefit by jointly promoting renewable energy systems around the world for the development of communities.

Though Public Private Partnerships (PPP) have become the preferred way for governments and international development agencies to ramp up infrastructure development globally, the experience with them has been mixed. The criticism of PPPs has focused on lack of independent regulatory mechanisms, incoherent ownership patterns, complexity and risks involved in financing. However, this has not stopped governments from promoting PPPs in renewables.

Emerging and under-developed economies – Brazil, India and Senegal have adopted replicable solar photovoltaic (PV) or hybrid models, albeit for different purposes. Brazil constructed a 400 kW solar PV generator to power a soccer stadium through a PPP between Electrobras, German Ministry of Environment (GIZ) and the State of Bahia. Rooftops of government buildings in Gandhinagar, India are being offered to solar energy companies to provide 5MW at pre-designated tariffs. Another hybrid PPP system (solar-diesel-wind) between PERACOD and INENSUS helped provide electrification and employment to a small village in rural Senegal, enabling villagers to generate income through economic activities and pay for power usage, thereby creating a mutually-beneficial, replicable model. These projects showcase a symbiotic relationship in providing power at the demand location by combining public sector facilities and private sector capital and expertise. They have also provided valuable policy lessons for future projects and key insights into pricing incentives. The State of Gujarat (Gandhinagar project) prices the power produced from these rooftop panels at a level that barely covers the opportunity cost of renting rooftops for other purposes. This sends a clear message that projects cannot be replicated till optimal incentives for all stakeholders are met.

A major challenge to scalability is cost - electricity generated from renewable energy sources is still many years from grid parity. Many PPPs fail because of fundamentally mismatched objectives of different stakeholders. For renewables particularly, the economics are far from ideal for private players. In this context, incentives and objectives of stakeholders need to be recalibrated. Governments must target increasing energy penetration and access, creating enabling policies, encouraging research and development (R&D) and focus on accrued social benefits, while private sector players should overlook wafer-thin profits in the short-term and focus on long-term investments and gaining a technological grasp in the sector. Further, research has shown that creating an ecosystem where a vibrant civil society contributes significantly to this partnership will provide the much-needed perspective on end user needs and aspirations. Appropriate involvement and intervention at each stage by the three sections will result in a workable, replicable model.

While public and private sector roles are well articulated, civil society (non-profits, social entrepreneurs, and communities) interventions at each stage can be invaluable in the development of a successful, scalable model. Four possible project stages at which civil society interventions could take place are:

• Planning: Contribution towards articulation of purpose and end objectives, and providing inputs on possible social, economic and environmental effects

• Development: Deployment monitoring and reporting – mapping implementation with plans and providing feedback on quality of deployment

• Operation and monitoring: Social audits to ensure objectives are met and enable smooth functioning

• Handover: Identify community champions responsible for system continuance in case of exit of private operators after the project ends

In conclusion, an altered PPP model with recalibrated objectives and active civil society participation can ramp up adoption of renewable energy, particularly in emerging and under-developed countries where electricity access is low and most-needed.

A Study in Pink

A few years ago, when I read Khaled Hosseini's 'A Thousand Splendid Suns', I remember the book having shaken me completely and leaving me with a haunting feeling. I couldn't help but weep at Mariam's plight and even Laila's, almost till the end of the book which thankfully paints a hopeful sentiment for Laila and her family. However, more than that, I remember having been thankful that I wasn't born in the Taliban ruled Afghanistan, but in a more broad-minded society like India. Or so I thought back then. However, this sentiment has been dwindling progressively ever since. In the last few years, I have encountered several articles of women being illtreated, hurt and clobbered, sometimes beyond repair in my own country. And by repair, I imply only physical damage. The mental scars of such henious crimes committed towards them live with them for several decades, in most cases, a lifetime.

Over the last couple of years, I've gradually come to realize that India is perhaps one of the most unequal societies in the world as far as gender equality is considered. In the Global Gender Gap report 2012 prepared by the WEF, India highly skewed sex ratio (# of males for every female) at 1.12 (according to CIA estimates) is exceeded only by China and Armenia. That is a shocking rank of 133 out of 135 participating nations! I'm trying to ignore, albeit unsuccessfully the glaring fact that the two most populous nations whose collective numbers make up for a third of the world population are at the bottom of the charts! Is that a indicator of the narrowmindedness of humanity in the future generations? I shudder to think! Preference for the male child has made female infanticide rampant across most Indian states. Though gender determination has been made illegal in India, couples and families still root for the male child and illegal clinics are present all over the country.The 2011 census showed an average of 940 women for every 1000 men in India. While this is certainly an improvement over 933 in 2001 (the world average was at 986), it still leaves a lot to worry about. The figure in some Indian states raises more than a few eyebrows- Haryana has an abysmal ratio of 877 while Delhi, the national capital is worse at 866. What's more shocking is the number in children under the age of 7 (914 in the 2011 census as opposed to 976 in 1961) indicating rampant gender selection. An estimated 40 million girls have "gone missing" since Independence in 1947.

Sadly, this discrimination does not stop at birth. At every stage, women are at a clear disadvantage when compared to men. The Global Gender Gap report places India at low ranks of 123, 121 and 134 in Economic Participation, Educational Attainment and Health and Survival respectively - all this despite the country having a high rank of 17 in Political Empowerment. Girls are forced to drop out of school before Class X killing hopes of an education, married off to complete strangers at a tender age and are condemned to a life of oppression. The practice of dowry although illegal, is still entrenched in the system even in the more progressive and educated states of Southern India. All these facts come across as ironic in a country which worships and adores female dieties, which had a woman Prime Minister much before developed economies like the United Kingdom and the United States (which in fact is still to elect a female President) and where a woman sits at the helm of affairs for all practical purposes.

Just a couple of weeks ago, the United Nations celebrated the 'First International day of the Girl Child' calling for an end to the abhorrent practice of child marriage and stressing on education as one of the strongest strategies to protect girls. Two days later, Malala Yousafzai was shot by the Taliban for espousing those very fundamental rights of education and empowerment. While it was heartening to see the world come together as one in defending and praising Malala, a lot of issues still remain despite extensive championing. In Haryana, there have been 20 rapes in the last 40 days and in most cases as in the past, the victim ends up being further victimized for "welcoming it" and ostracized from the community. To this, India's political populace (including women) have said that reduced access to mobile phones, non-exposure to the western culture and being married off early are workable solutions - ridiculous conclusions that would've otherwise seemed funny, had the situation not been so serious!

Worldwide too, equal rights to vote, to work, to pay and to own property have come only in the last century and only after brave demonstrations by women activists. History presents ample evidence at various points on women having not only been treated unequally, but in most cases, with contempt. I wonder what warrants treating half the populace as "inferior" - is it only weaker physical capabilities and strength that have trampled women for generations or is there a far more fundamental reason? I've picked up Simone de Beauvoir's "The Second Sex" and I sure hope I find some answers there!

P.S: Disclaimer - I am not a feminist, atleast not the kind who maintains that women are better than men. I believe in gender equality and hence equal rights to everything. I don't see why any person should be treated unfairly based on gender - something she has absolutely no control over.

Take a chance on me...

I slowly open my eyes and stare beyond the spherical dome that envelops me. Strangely, my eyes can pierce through the fluid, opaque darkness around me. I see the rickety old fan turning at a lazy pace on the dusty ceiling above, doing nothing more than disturbing the matted cobwebs around. I look around and notice the pale blue paint peeling off the walls in this hot, still afternoon. There is a sudden movement to my right and I see a woman donned in a starched white uniform holding a syringe against the light. There are others boiling sharp tools – scissors, scalpels, tubes and needles, bringing clean sheets and rushing around as though gripped by a purpose. The old wooden door leading outside is open and I see a small crowd of people standing around looking a tad anxious. Some of them have their hands clasped, a few words on their lips as they look heavenward. I wonder what they are praying for. One of the ladies clad in white, rushes to close the door and at the same moment, a man darts towards it, as though to catch a final glance at someone who’s going far away. I catch a glimpse of his eyes and the expression confuses me. What was it that I see? Is it hope? Is it fear? Anxiety? Worry? Do his lips betray a fleeting prayer?

I look back inside the room and it takes a moment for me to realize that my point of view has changed. What is this I’m having? Is it an out-of-body experience? Or is this something normal that everybody goes through? My thoughts are jarred by a sudden scream and I now see a woman lying on the bed, clutching the sides of the cot, tears of pain streaming from her eyes. One of the white clad ladies grasps her left hand and tries to calm her, asking her to breathe. I try to scrutinize her expression behind those moist eyelashes as they flutter in pain. What are her thoughts at this moment? Somehow, I need to know. It is critical to me, since today, I have to make a choice. A choice of whether to move on or turn back. For, in a few minutes that crying woman could be my mother, for I am already her unborn girl child.

I stare on at the scene as though detached, unconnected. Yet, the choice I make today, in a few moments in fact, will impact my very being. The realization slowly dawns on me that we all have a choice before we are born – of whether to take in those first few sharp breaths, to breathe in the elixir of life or to hold our breath, turn blue and be gone in a matter of minutes, despite desperate attempts to keep us alive. Today is my turn. The choice for our brothers is always easy, which is why they come parading into the world, a little too eager, a little too early. However, the decision for us girls is harder. Especially, if the womb we have been put into is located in this rural district of Haryana, belonging to an illiterate homemaker and a poor farmer. However, I must give credit to this duo for not choosing to go for the sex determination test that a very “concerned” aunt was thrusting onto them. Consciously and unknowingly, they put the decision in my hands, and here I am today pondering over that question that plagues one at several stages throughout one’s life – To be or not to be?

I try to ignore the stifling screams and the moans of pain in the room and look beyond the closed doors into the long passage. There are about 20 people there, waiting impatiently. I wonder what they are waiting for. I ignore my father and scrutinize all the other faces. There are 2 – 3 middle aged women. Their expressions and eyes do not deceive me. They are hoping for a boy and are willing to sacrifice me. I move beyond them. There is an aged couple sitting down with their back to the wall – my grandparents. My grandmother somehow perceives my gaze and gives a startled look upwards. Her thoughts I can clearly see. She craves for a girl – someone who could be what she, or her daughter within the room could not. That’s one in my favour. I smile and look at my grandfather who is now looking at his wife with a concerned expression. She gives him a faint smile and he smiles back. That’s two in my favour. Should I decide now?

I ignore some others who are clearly hoping for a boy and look at the little girl clinging on to the pillar and casting nervous glances at the people around her. She looks to be about 5 or 6 with her small braided plaits, large beautiful eyes and a demure expression - my “could-be” sister and someone who crossed over to the other side. She clearly wants a playmate, someone who could go with her to school and someone she can take into her confidence. Her eyes dart to the most anxious man in the room and I look in the same direction. There stands the man who sired me. I move around for a better view and almost stare into his eyes. The expression is unfathomable.

The scene before me melts and another one quickly takes its place. There’s a little girl with curly hair wearing her navy uniform and going to school, happy, excited, while an older girl with braids is clutching the door frame looking wistfully on. Is that me? Older and going to school while my sister isn’t? Why is that happening? Did she choose to stay at home? I look back into her sad, doleful eyes and ask my father, "Baba, why isn't didi coming to school?". He just ignores me and marches ahead with a purpose, clasping my hand and egging me to keep up with him. I cannot seem to comprehend it. The scene quickly reforms again and a little boy materializes. He looks about six or seven. The girl with the braids is almost a woman now, washing utensils in the kitchen sink and the girl with the curly hair is older, but strangely it is her standing behind the door frame now looking wistfully as the little boy turns back and waves, pure joy written all over his face as he clings on to my father’s hand, whose face for some reason looks determinedly set again, but definitely happier. The girl in the curly hair turns back and looks around at my mother, who looks older with wisps of white hair on her forehead and is sporting a somewhat apologetic expression. The realization suddenly dawns on me and I, the girl in the curly hair ask, “Mother, why can’t I go to school along with my brother? I want to learn too”. She just stares back at me with a helpless expression, her eyes telling it all, but still not conveying anything.

The scene fades again and quickly reforms into a colourful, noisy celebration. It looks like a wedding. I stare at the palanquin and notice myself, older but still not older than maybe 16 or 17, looking down with a stone cold expression, clad in red and decked in the few jewels my father can afford. Two people are carrying the palanquin on their shoulders and they stop. Somehow reaches for my arm and gently prompts me to get out. I step out, garland in hand and raise my eyes to the tall man in front of me. He smiles and a tempered hope surges in me, but life has taught me not to hope for too much. His smile too bears that irritating enigma that I’m unable to decipher. Did my parents make the right choice? Will this person respect me, love me, support me and trust me for the rest of our lives? The scene transforms once again and this time I see myself lying in the same room with the blue paint peeling off the walls, a huge lump in my stomach and try to look at my husband’s anxiety ridden eyes as they shut the door on him. I shudder.

I am suddenly transported back to today with a lump in my throat. What do I do? Are these incidents that I saw, glimpses of the the life I am about to have if I choose to live? Or will my parents and others around me exercise the choices they so obviously had at each juncture? I look from my father’s incomprehensible expression to my mother’s fluttering eyelids? I prod them, try to shake their thoughts into betraying a response, a sign…

“Will you stick up for me, mother? Will you ensure that I have a better life than you did?”

“Will you love and support me, father? Will you love me like you would love my brother who will be born after me?”

“Will you take a chance on me?”

They look on, unable to hear me, unable to realize that their actions sometime in the future will influence my choice for existence today. I am confused, frantic and time ticks on…