Branches of injustice: The apple trees we failed to protect

In a deeply disturbing move, the Himachal Pradesh High Court recently ordered the felling of fully fruit-laden apple trees reportedly planted on forest land under encroachment. Visuals of devastated farmers watching in silence as their healthy, thriving trees were axed to the ground have gone viral—evoking pain, anger, and above all, confusion. What does environmentalism mean if it fails to empathise with life itself—human and ecological?

This moment forces us to ask a foundational question: What does it mean to truly care for the environment? If the answer is merely a rigid interpretation of land law, devoid of compassion and ecological reasoning, we risk mistaking compliance for conscience. Real environmental stewardship must start with empathy — towards people, trees and ecosystems. The act of cutting down productive apple trees, irrespective of their legal status, is neither scientific nor ecologically sound.

The tragic irony of “saving” forests by cutting trees

At the heart of this crisis lies a dangerous paradox—we are destroying trees in the name of forest protection. Anywhere in the world, axing healthy trees flies in the face of conservation logic. Apple trees may not be native forest species, but they are not concrete buildings or invasive flora either. They sequester carbon, prevent soil erosion, attract pollinators, and provide food and livelihood.

Labeling these trees as mere “encroachments” strips them of their biological and ecological value. It also flattens complex realities where marginal farmers, with little means and few choices, often plant such trees on fringe lands to survive. The urgency to reclaim forest land must not become an excuse for environmental injustice. If the logic continues, tomorrow even mud homes or community forests might be razed under similar pretexts.

Forest regeneration takes time, not bulldozers

The goal of reclaiming forest land is important. Forests are essential for climate regulation, water security and biodiversity. But forests are living, evolving systems—not checkboxes on a bureaucratic form. The restoration of a true forest ecosystem—from grasses to shrubs to native trees like oak and cedar—takes decades.

Cutting down apple orchards will not instantaneously regenerate forest cover. If the state’s objective was ecological restoration, a phased strategy could have allowed current orchards to live out their lifespan while beginning native plantation efforts in tandem. Plant saplings along the peripheries, plan gradual succession and transition the land over a decade or more. Such strategies are not only scientifically sound but globally endorsed as models of participatory environmentalism.

A better alternative: Fence, harvest, transition

There was a far more humane and balanced solution within reach. The so-called encroached areas could have been fenced to prevent further expansion, thus bringing them under state custody. Meanwhile, the fruit-bearing trees could have been temporarily managed by the horticulture department. The harvests could have been directed toward flood victims or public welfare, creating both environmental and social dividends.

This phased, pragmatic approach would have ensured: No fresh encroachments due to fencing; public benefit from existing orchard yield, aiding displaced families; gradual reforestation, starting immediately, without damaging existing ecological functions. Instead, the state opted for destruction—sudden, irreversible and deeply disheartening.

Apples vs hotels: The double standards

If the rationale is “law is law,” then where is this legal firmness when it comes to illegal hotels, resorts or hydropower projects on forest land? The National Green Tribunal (NGT) has repeatedly passed demolition orders against such concrete structures violating environmental norms — Application No. 141/2014 being just one example. Yet the same urgency rarely applies to removing tourism infrastructure or real estate developments.

There’s a world of difference between chopping down a living, fruit-bearing tree and demolishing a cement resort. One supports ecosystems and livelihoods; the other destroys both. This selective enforcement undermines public trust in environmental justice and raises serious ethical questions.

Redefining forest justice with empathy

Environmental law cannot be a blunt weapon. It must be guided by ethics, ecology and empathy. The farmers who planted those apple trees were not mining, not damming rivers, not building malls. They were growing food, sustaining families and nurturing green cover. Reducing them to “encroachers” dismisses the moral and ecological value of their work.

It’s time for our institutions to reimagine their role—not as colonial-era law enforcers, but as facilitators of ecological equity. Forest reclamation must begin with a vision of rejuvenation, not revenge. Science, local knowledge and community involvement should guide policy. Without this integration, we risk alienating the very people who are most affected by and essential to conservation efforts.

Final word: Cut red tape, not trees

This unfortunate incident teaches us what not to do in the name of forest protection. Conservation must be about healing, not harming. If the goal is to preserve Himachal’s forests, we must begin by respecting the rhythm of life—of trees, ecosystems and communities.

A tree takes years to grow. It takes seconds to destroy. In those seconds, not only do we lose a tree—we lose the public’s trust, ecological balance, and the spirit of environmental justice. We must stop mistaking axes for action.

Let this be a call to conscience—for the courts, for the forest departments, and for every citizen who believes that environmentalism begins by protecting life, not eliminating it.

The writer is the author of three books on urbanisation, ex-Deputy Mayor of Shimla and currently a member of the Kerala Urban Commission.