STEVE CORREA
The People of Goa are not “anti-develop ment.” They have every reason to seek better roads, airports, jobs, tour ism revenue, housing, and public services. The expect ed benefits are clear: more employment, stronger state revenues, improved connec tivity, and a broader range of opportunities. Tourism alone is now significant: of ficial figures for 2025 indi cate that Goa will host more than 10.4 million visitors. While this can generate em ployment and attract invest ment, it also challenges the carrying capacity of a small coastal state. The issue is not devel opment itself. The issue is unplanned growth and the ideology of “more” without considering “how much is too much, where, and for whom?” Goa’s own tour ism policy recognises that peak-season arrivals create “immense stress” on the state’s ecology, infrastruc ture, and tourism assets. The Goa Coastal Zone Man agement Authority also exists because coastal eco systems are under pressure from human and industrial activities. When a state’s own policy and regulato ry framework are already signalling stress, that is not just a minor environmental complaint; it is a governance warning. One cost of excess is water. Rapidly expanding urban and semi-urban areas are already experiencing shortages, and recent reports indicate that Goa is facing a growing daily supply deficit with repeated disruptions in multiple are as. In an economy driven by tourism and real estate, the politics surrounding water become particularly intense: local residents, hotels, gated villas, and short-term rentals all rely on the same limited systems. Development that surpasses water manage ment does not just inconven ience citizens; it also uneven ly shifts security. Another cost is waste. Goa’s tourism and environ mental documents have repeatedly highlighted that waste management strug gles to keep up with growth. Goa’s economic strategy em phasises tourism and con struction as major sources of waste, and its tourism policy explicitly identifies water and waste manage ment as stress points for the sector. If development cre ates wealth but does not es tablish systems for sewage, solid waste, construction debris, and marine litter, then prosperity begins to undermine its own founda tion. Land ranks as a third key asset. As tourism and de mand for second homes grow, land prices escalate, often outpacing local in comes. Recent reports on Goa’s property boom link demand to second homes, holiday rentals, and life style-driven real estate. While this may benefit own ers and investors, it also risks marginalising younger Goans from their own hous ing market. The outcome isn’t just costly property; it signifies a social shift in community dynamics. Vil lages transform into invest ment zones. Fields become future property stock. A sense of belonging gives way to speculation. This is where the line be tween development and excess becomes morally significant. Development focuses on creating public goods. Excess commercialis es everything. Development questions how infrastruc ture can support life. Excess asks how land can be trans formed, packaged, and sold before regulation catches up. That concern is not mere ly theoretical. A current flashpoint, as reported, is that the provision permits the conversion of land—in cluding green zones such as paddy fields, orchards, and no-development are as—into “settlement,” af ter which residential and commercial development can occur and land values increase sharply. The public protests are therefore not just sentimental resistance to change; they reflect ap prehension that planning is being manipulated to favour speculative conversion rath er than serving the public interest. When laws and planning tools are repeatedly used to permit conversions on eco logically sensitive or agricul turally valuable land, people naturally start questioning whether development is still driven by a public vision or by vested interests. This ex emplifies a modern form of corruption: not merely ille gal dealings, but the appear ance of lawful rules being manipulated to benefit pri vate, short-term interests. Goa’s history presents an even clearer example: ille gal mining. The Justice M. B. Shah Commission and subsequent Supreme Court proceedings documented widespread irregularities in iron ore mining. In 2014, the Supreme Court recognised illegalities identified by the Shah Commission and ruled that mining after 2007 in Goa was unlawful; later pro ceedings also highlighted excess extraction and other serious breaches. This ex emplifies how corruption in development manifests at a large scale: ecological degradation, institutional undermining, and private exploitation of public re sources disguised as eco nomic progress. Goa is also experiencing the consequences of ille gal construction and lax enforcement. In 2024 and 2025, the Bombay High Court at Goa instructed authorities to take action against illegal constructions, including those on fragile beach belts, and stressed that Goa’s “fragile ecosys tem ought to be protected.” Courts do not make such statements unless there has been repeated admin istrative failure. Illegal structures, hill-cutting, and post-facto regularisation are not isolated violations; they indicate a deeper culture of permissiveness. The intended effects of development are quite clear: more jobs, more in vestment, greater mobility, and increased economic confidence. However, the unintended impacts are mounting quietly: loss of shared resources, damaged coastlines, inflated land prices, pressure on water and waste infrastructure, traffic congestion, and a civ ic atmosphere of powerless ness in the face of continual development. These are not anti-growth arguments. There are concerns that a small state might become economically active but cul turally diminished. So, what is the true ques tion for Goa? Not whether it should develop, but what kind of development merits Goa. If Goa continues to reward excess—such as speculative real estate, legalised land conversion, illegal construc tion regularised after the fact, and extractive projects that privatise gains while so cialising damage—the price will be high. The state might earn more in the short term but will lose what initially made it valuable: ecological beauty, village character, so cial memory, and liveability. The wiser path is not de velopment, but planned development with limits: protect aquifers and pad dy fields, enforce the coast, stop rewarding violations, price infrastructure honest ly, and ask every project a simple question—does this deepen Goa’s life, or merely consume it? That is the price Goa must pay: not its soul, but its im patience. Because what is at stake is not just land, water, or policy. It is memory. It is belonging. It is the quiet rhythm of a place that once knew when to grow — and when to pause. If we are not careful, Goa will not be lost in a single moment of excess. Instead, it will be gradually eroded, decision by decision, per mission by permission, com promise by compromise— until one day we wake up to a place that seems prosper ous but no longer feels like home. No Longer viva la Goa. And so the price Goa must pay is not its rivers, not its fields, not its fragile coast —but its impatience. For only a place that can learn to wait… can truly endure. (Steve Correa is a Lead ership Coach and OD Con sultant, who has had over three decades of corporate experience. He is author of, The Indian Boss at Work: Thinking Global Acting Indian.)
