India’s ambitious ₹72,000-crore Great Nicobar Project has emerged as one of the most debated initiatives in recent years, not only for its economic and strategic promise but also for the intense political and environmental controversies surrounding it. At its core, the project seeks to establish a transshipment port, an international airport, a power plant, and a township on the remote Great Nicobar Island. Barely 9 kilometers from India’s southernmost point, Indira Point, and strategically located just 210 kilometers from Indonesia’s Aceh province and about 900 kilometers from the Malacca Strait, this project is being pitched as India’s answer to Singapore or Hong Kong in terms of regional trade influence. Yet, the ecological costs, tribal displacement issues, and political backlash have turned it into a national flashpoint.
The plan was formally approved in 2021 under the Narendra Modi-led government and is being spearheaded by the Andaman and Nicobar Islands Integrated Development Corporation (ANIIDCO). Spread across 166 square kilometers, which is nearly 10% of Great Nicobar’s total landmass, the project will unfold over three decades at an estimated cost of ₹72,000 crore. Its most critical element is the transshipment hub at Galathea Bay, designed to handle up to 14.5 million TEUs annually. With this port, India intends to secure between 20% and 30% of cargo passing through the Malacca Strait—one of the busiest trade routes in the world. Alongside the port, the blueprint includes a greenfield international airport with a 3,300-metre runway, a 450 MW gas and solar-based power plant, and a township planned to house up to 65,000 residents, largely comprising workers and migrants.
The government has projected that the Great Nicobar Project could become a major economic engine by the year 2040, potentially generating ₹30,000 crore annually and creating 50,000 jobs. The transshipment hub would allow India to reduce its dependence on foreign ports for rerouting cargo, while the township and power infrastructure would provide the backbone for sustained growth. Moreover, its location near vital shipping lanes positions it as a potential "growth pole" for the Bay of Bengal region and an integral part of India’s Sagarmala initiative, which is aimed at unlocking the potential of coastal economic zones. For many policymakers and strategists, this project is not just about trade—it is about placing India firmly in the maritime map of the Indo-Pacific.
The strategic importance of the Great Nicobar Project cannot be overstated. The island sits close to the Malacca Strait, a choke point through which nearly 80% of China’s oil imports pass. By developing naval and air infrastructure on Great Nicobar, India would gain enhanced capabilities to monitor, deter, and if necessary, respond to maritime threats in the region. Senior naval officers have previously emphasized that islands like the Andamans and Nicobar act as natural springboards for operations, making them crucial for India’s maritime dominance. With airstrips, turnaround facilities for ships and submarines, and surveillance capabilities, the Great Nicobar Project is envisioned as India’s counterweight to China’s "string of pearls" strategy in the Indian Ocean.
Despite these promises of economic prosperity and defense preparedness, the project has drawn sharp criticism on ecological and humanitarian grounds. Great Nicobar Island is one of the most biodiverse regions in the world, with dense tropical rainforests covering nearly 85% of its area, and it is home to over 200 bird species and countless endemic plants and animals. Galathea Bay, the proposed site for the port, is a Ramsar-designated wetland and the Indian Ocean’s most significant nesting site for the critically endangered leatherback turtle. Environmentalists warn that large-scale dredging and reclamation will destroy coral reefs, damage mangroves that serve as natural tsunami barriers, and destabilize a seismically fragile region.
Adding to ecological concerns are the cultural and human costs of the project. The Shompen tribe, classified as a Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group (PVTG), resides on Great Nicobar Island. With a population of around 300 to 400 people, the Shompen have lived in isolation for centuries, relying on forest produce and hunting for their survival. Critics argue that the township and infrastructure development will displace them from at least 130 square kilometers of ancestral land, threatening their survival and exposing them to diseases against which they have little immunity. Human rights organizations have pointed out that such forced contact has historically resulted in the rapid decimation of uncontacted tribes.
Political leaders have also taken opposing stances on the project. Congress Parliamentary Party chairperson Sonia Gandhi recently criticized the initiative as “half-baked and ill-conceived policymaking,” warning that it would come at the cost of ecological destruction and indigenous displacement. Her concerns were echoed by Rahul Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, amplifying the debate at the national level. The BJP, however, swiftly hit back, framing the project as a matter of national strategic interest and accusing the Congress of undermining India’s growth story. BJP leaders have argued that opposing the Great Nicobar Project is equivalent to opposing India’s rise as a maritime power in the Indo-Pacific.
Beyond politics, experts remain deeply divided. Some argue that ecological damage and the displacement of tribal communities far outweigh any economic or strategic gain, and suggest exploring eco-friendly alternatives that balance development with conservation. Others insist that India cannot afford to delay building infrastructure in such a geopolitically critical location, especially given the pace of Chinese expansion in the Indian Ocean. For them, the project symbolizes not just development but a long-term assertion of India’s sovereignty and influence in a contested region.
The Great Nicobar Project, therefore, stands at a complex intersection of economy, ecology, defense, and politics. While it promises to reshape India’s maritime future and strengthen its global trade position, it also risks undermining fragile ecosystems and indigenous rights. As construction plans move forward in phases, beginning as early as 2024, the debate is set to intensify. For now, the project symbolizes the classic dilemma of modern development—whether strategic and economic aspirations can or should override environmental and cultural preservation in the pursuit of national growth.
