It is no secret that Lahore has inherited a colonial legacy of haphazard urban planning. Rather than course-correcting, however, appear to have doubled down on the worst aspects of it. The latest monstrosity in this ongoing saga of elite-driven, car-obsessed urban sprawl is the Ravi Riverfront Urban Development Project.

Billed as a plan to “revive” the Ravi, this 100,000-acre concrete fever dream will supposedly turn the dying river into a perennial freshwater body. In reality, it is an ecological nightmare wrapped as a grand vision. The plan involves massive urban development on both sides of the riverbank, an initiative that will displace farmers, destroy agricultural land, and increase flood risks — all to create yet another real estate empire.

The past is a prologue: Lahore’s colonial blueprint for disaster

Lahore’s environmental crises — flooding, toxic air, water shortages, and unchecked expansion — can be traced back to British colonial rule. The British, focused on controlling space and maximising profits, introduced a chaotic mishmash of urban planning authorities and inequitable housing policies. They prioritised ribbon development, suburban sprawl, and class-based segregation.

The Lahore Improvement Trust, established in 1936, and later the Lahore Development Authority, formed in 1975, carried on this legacy, favouring projects that catered to the elite while leaving the working class to fend for themselves in informal settlements.

Post-independence, Lahore’s planning philosophy remained unchanged — build outward, build big, and build for the wealthy. Master plans were drafted and ignored. Agricultural land was eaten up by ever-expanding housing societies. Instead of densifying the city and investing in public transport, decision-makers encouraged car dependency and road expansion, a strategy that has not only exacerbated pollution but also created an urban form that is hostile to pedestrians and working-class residents.

Take Gulberg, for example. Once designed as a leafy, low-density residential area, it has been transformed into an overheated concrete jungle, courtesy unregulated commercial expansion. The same fate befell Model Town’s extensions and the once-green Samnabad. Even older schemes like Shadbagh, developed after Partition, reveal a pattern: initially undesirable, then developed with basic infrastructure, then overtaken by the upper and middle class buyers, then choked by congestion and pollution.

Lahore’s planning history is a tragic loop.

Ruda — a floodplain disguised as a housing scheme

Ravi is already a dying river, thanks to decades of pollution, encroachments, and mismanagement. But instead of taking a conservation-first approach, the Ravi Urban Development Authority’s (Ruda) solution is to build luxury high-rises, gated communities, and commercial hubs on its floodplains.

Let that sink in — floodplains.

The very land meant to absorb excess water during monsoon season is being handed over to private developers. If history has taught us anything, it’s that when you build on floodplains, the water does not disappear. It just finds a new place to flood, usually the homes of those who cannot afford to live in Ruda’s exclusive enclaves.

Environmentalists have rightly pointed out that altering the flow of the Ravi could have disastrous consequences. Changing its course could lead to more frequent and severe floods, as seen in the past when embankments failed to contain the river’s monsoon surges.

And then there’s the land issue. Over 80 per cent of the area designated for Ruda is currently used for agriculture, providing food and livelihoods for thousands. But since when has Lahore cared about farmers? Using the colonial-era Land Acquisition Act of 1894 — a favourite tool of governments looking to grab land for “public purpose” — the Punjab government is forcing people off their land. A Human Rights Watch report even documented instances of farmers facing intimidation, legal harassment, and outright coercion.

In January 2022, the Lahore High Court (LHC) declared the project unconstitutional. Subsequently, the Supreme Court (SC) ] overturned the ruling, while ordering the authorities to ensure that the land is acquired “with consent”. We all know what that means in practice.

The irony is painful. A project pitched as a river “revival” plan is destroying the very ecosystem that sustains life along the Ravi. A project that claims to solve Lahore’s urban woes is doing exactly what created them in the first place — privileging real estate tycoons and the affluent few at the expense of ordinary people.

Breaking the cycle

Lahore’s planning trajectory needs an immediate and radical shift. The answer does not lie in more gated communities and highways but a serious commitment to sustainable urbanism. This means investing in public transport instead of more roads. This means densifying the existing city rather than expanding outward. This means protecting agricultural land rather than bulldozing it for housing schemes.

We need to acknowledge that Lahore is not just a playground for developers. It is a living, breathing city with a rich history and a rapidly deteriorating future. The Ravi River does not need luxury apartments on its banks. It needs a conservation-first strategy, one that prioritises restoring its natural flow, controlling industrial pollution, and reintroducing native vegetation.

But such a strategy does not make money for the right people, does it? Unless we challenge this model of ecologically destructive urban planning, we will remain stuck in a never-ending cycle of environmental collapse and social inequality.

It’s time to break the cycle before there’s nothing left to save.

Header image: Chahar Bagh, a luxury housing development project under construction in the new city along the Ravi River. — RUDA’s website/File