harms— industrial pollution, forest diversion, mining licences, and the conservation of wildlife habitats. Courts could identify a clear violator, apply the “polluter pays” principle, and order compensation or restoration. But today’s crises are no longer confined to factory effluents or illegal quarries. India is confronting climate change-induced floods, unpredictable drought cycles, heatwaves touching 50°C, air pollution emergencies, water scarcity, and the ecological fallout of large-scale infrastructure development. These are diffuse, multi-causal harms where accountability cannot be pinned on a single entity.

This shift raises a fundamental question: Can a jurisprudence built on identifying individual violators adequately respond to systemic environmental collapse? If not, the courts must evolve a broader, more anticipatory framework.

The rise of climate litigation is already showing the way. In April 2024, the Supreme Court, in a landmark order, recognised climate change as a threat to the fundamental right to life. This wasn’t merely symbolic. It acknowledged that future environmental governance must move beyond traditional pollution control and embrace climate mitigation, adaptation, and intergenerational equity. Courts worldwide—from Germany to the Netherlands—are increasingly holding governments accountable for failing to meet climate targets. India may soon face similar suits demanding enforceable carbon budgets, climate-risk assessments for public projects, and stronger disaster preparedness.

Technology is another frontier. The push for renewable energy, electric mobility, and digital infrastructure will reduce emissions but bring new ecological concerns—battery waste, land acquisition for solar parks, rare-earth mining, and data centres consuming massive water and electricity. The jurisprudence of tomorrow must be prepared to scrutinise “green projects” too, recognising that sustainability cannot be reduced to mere carbon metrics.

Equally urgent is the question of environmental democracy. For years, public participation in environmental decision-making has been weakened by hurried clearances, diluted impact assessments, and token consultations. As projects become bigger and their consequences more far-reaching, communities—especially tribal and marginalised groups—must have a meaningful voice. Courts will have to reassert the importance of Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC), uphold procedural fairness, and prevent environmental governance from becoming a bureaucratic rubber stamp.

The future will also test the balance between environmental protection and economic development. Infrastructure expansion—highways, logistics corridors, strategic tunnels, hydropower, and coastal projects—is central to India’s growth aspirations. But without rigorous oversight, these can deepen ecological fragility. The judiciary cannot afford a simplistic binary of “development vs. environment”; it must push for intelligent solutions— nature-based infrastructure, climate-resilient planning, and assessments that factor in long-term costs, not just immediate gains.

Finally, environmental justice must expand to recognise that climate impacts are not experienced equally. Heat stress, floods, and polluted air disproportionately affect low-income communities. Future jurisprudence must explicitly address these inequities, ensuring that environmental rights are not abstract ideals but lived realities.

India’s environmental jurisprudence has always been bold, but the challenges ahead demand an even more imaginative, scientifically grounded, and justice-oriented approach. If courts, policymakers, and civil society can align towards this ambition, the future need not be one of irreversible loss. It can be one of resilience—built on the recognition that protecting the environment is not a barrier to progress but the very foundation of it.