In recent years, India’s higher judiciary has increasingly ventured into domains traditionally reserved for the legislature or executive, issuing rulings that, while well-intentioned, often blur legal boundaries. Legal scholars and former judges have raised concerns over this tendency, pointing to a pattern of judgments marked by doctrinal ambiguity, administrative overreach, and, at times, an uneasy blending of constitutional law with religious sentiment. A striking example of this trend is the Uttarakhand High Court’s 2017 decision in Mohd Salim v. State of Uttarakhand, which conferred legal personhood upon the Ganga and Yamuna rivers. While the verdict sought to address grave environmental degradation, it did so through a ruling that raises far-reaching legal and constitutional questions.
This extraordinary judgement, inspired by environmental degradation and bureaucratic inaction, sought to breathe legal life into two of India’s most sacred and imperilled rivers. But while the intention was noble, the judgment has sparked a vigorous debate in legal and environmental circles. Was this an act of environmental jurisprudence or judicial overreach? And can such a declaration survive the weight of administrative and constitutional scrutiny?
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A judgment anchored in symbolism
The court’s rationale rested heavily on the spiritual and cultural significance of the rivers. Drawing on precedents like Yogendra Nath Naskar v. CIT Calcutta and Ram Jankijee Deities v. State of Bihar, which conferred juristic personality on Hindu deities, the bench argued that the Ganga and Yamuna—viewed as living gods in Hinduism—deserved similar status. Legal personhood, the court reasoned, would allow the rivers to “sue and be sued” in court, thus empowering citizens and state functionaries to act as their guardians.
To enforce this, the court designated the Director of the Namami Gange programme, the Chief Secretary of Uttarakhand, and the state’s Advocate General as loco parentis—guardians entrusted with upholding the rivers’ rights. The move was seen as a judicial response to government inertia, invoking Articles 48A and 51A(g) of the Constitution, which enshrine the duty of the state and citizens to protect the environment.
But therein lies the first flaw: while the public interest litigation filed by Mohd Salim focused narrowly on banning illegal mining along riverbanks, the court ventured far beyond the pleadings. In doing so, it arguably overstepped its remit, issuing a declaration that, though visionary, was obiter dicta—a non-binding aside that eclipsed the case’s core issue.
Legal personhood, administrative confusion
The judgment blurs critical distinctions in jurisprudence. Juristic persons—like corporations, trusts, or idols—are granted rights and duties under law through human representatives. These constructs are useful legal fictions. However, conferring full rights akin to natural persons on an entire river system—with no clear boundaries or defined scope—creates interpretational chaos.
For instance, what does it mean to say the Ganga has the same rights as a human being? Can it own property, demand compensation, or be sued for damages in case of flooding? How will rights conflicts between the river and affected populations—say, displacement from anti-erosion work—be resolved? The court did not offer a framework to adjudicate such competing interests.
Moreover, the appointed guardians—the Chief Secretary and Advocate General of Uttarakhand—do not have jurisdiction beyond state borders. The Ganga flows through Himachal Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and West Bengal. How then can an official from Uttarakhand represent its interests in, say, Kolkata? This administrative oversight undermines the very enforcement the judgment seeks to achieve.
Rights without responsibilities
Another serious critique concerns the asymmetry of the legal status. By declaring the rivers to have rights akin to humans but not defining their duties, the court leaves unresolved a fundamental legal dilemma: how to ensure accountability. If a legal person can sue, it must also be capable of being sued. But rivers are not sentient; they cannot act independently. They cannot defend their actions or make choices. Responsibility inevitably falls on their guardians, opening the door to complicated and often politicised litigation.
The court could have avoided this trap by following a more grounded legal path—recognising rivers as holders of environmental rights derived from human duties, in line with the “interest theory” of rights. Such an approach, rooted in the public trust doctrine, would allow citizens to act on behalf of nature without the need to ascribe anthropomorphic legal identities to natural entities.
Lessons from abroad—and a word of caution
The judgment appears inspired by global legal experiments. In 2017, New Zealand passed legislation granting the Whanganui River legal personhood through a detailed framework negotiated with the local Māori community. But that law was the result of years of deliberation, cultural consultation, and parliamentary process—not a sweeping judicial pronouncement.
By contrast, the Indian verdict anchors its reasoning largely in Hindu theology. While the sacredness of Ganga and Yamuna is indisputable, the use of religious rationale in a secular court ruling raises constitutional concerns. It creates a discriminatory framework—what about rivers like the Brahmaputra or the Narmada, which may not enjoy the same religious status? Are they less worthy of protection? The judgment unwittingly creates a hierarchy of rivers, with religion as the determinant—a precedent both dangerous and exclusionary.
A missed opportunity for judiciary
Despite the initial symbolic significance, the conferment of legal personhood has not translated into substantial improvements in the health of the Ganga and Yamuna. Pollution levels remain alarmingly high, with industrial effluents, untreated sewage, and waste management failures continuing to plague the rivers. The judgment, while ambitious, ultimately highlighted the limitations of judicial interventions unsupported by a comprehensive statutory framework and coordinated inter-state efforts—both of which remain critical for meaningful river conservation.
What the court could have done—and still can, if the Supreme Court revisits the issue—is to develop a doctrine of environmental personhood that rests not on faith, but on ecological necessity. Rivers are vital public commons. Their degradation threatens biodiversity, water security, and livelihoods. A more pragmatic framework would involve:
- Defining specific enforceable rights of rivers (e.g., the right to remain free of pollution, to flow, to recharge aquifers).
- Appointing interdisciplinary river trusts, comprising environmental scientists, civil society members, legal experts, and state officials.
- Creating jurisdictional clarity for river governance across states.
- Utilising existing environmental laws (like the Environment Protection Act and Water Act) to operationalise such rights.
Such an approach would preserve the spirit of the High Court’s ruling—recognising the urgent need to protect our rivers—while avoiding doctrinal overreach and administrative impracticalities.
The Uttarakhand High Court’s declaration is undoubtedly well-meaning. It signals an evolution in India’s environmental jurisprudence, where nature is not merely property to be exploited but a living entity deserving care. Yet, rights must be weighed with responsibilities, faith balanced with constitutional values, and symbolism grounded in legal clarity.
Legal personhood for rivers may one day be a meaningful concept in Indian law. But only if it rests on a foundation more robust than religion, more inclusive than symbolism, and more practical than sentiment. Until then, the judgment remains a poetic gesture—beautiful, perhaps, but legally fragile.
Amrita Pankaj Satija is a BA (Hons) Legal Studies student at Jindal Global Law School, OP Jindal Global University.