What happens when participation isn’t symbolic, but structural?
In the climate conversation, we often hear who suffers first or suffers most. But often left out and equally important is who responds first and how.
The burden of climate disruption has long been heavier on the margins: low-income neighbourhoods, informal workers, vulnerable geographies. But what if that margin wasn’t just the frontline of impact, but also the frontline of design? What if communities closest to disruption were also closest to insight?
This isn’t hypothetical. Across Bengaluru, there are signs that solutions shaped at the ground level are not just emerging, but expanding, quietly reshaping how the city responds to climate action.
In the City Changemaker League, hosted by Reap Benefit earlier this year, government school students from across the city didn’t just participate; they prototyped civic action. Their brief was to identify local civic and environmental issues and try to bring out plans on working them out. Teams presented on blocked drains, black spots, menstrual taboos, and broken footpaths. Their developed plans ranged from tracing officials, persuading family elders, to hosting peer workshops. At the finale, where I served as a judge, the presentations weren’t just well-informed; they were fierce, clear, and grounded. When students from vulnerable neighbourhoods argued for cleaner lanes and safer toilets, they weren’t just echoing plans; they were proposing them.
School is the smallest unit of the community. More than just an institution, it’s the civic square, the first unit of public life. So, when students act, they often become the first unit of citizen governance.
This participatory impulse isn’t isolated.
In Shantinagar Ward, a ward factsheet created by Mahila Housing Trust went far beyond what official formats typically capture. Instead of static indicators, the profile drew from lived experience: narrow lanes that machinery couldn’t enter, unsafe zones around waste dumps, overlooked community toilets. It blended physical mapping with social context, offering a sharper lens into climate and civic vulnerabilities.
It wasn’t just data. It was direction. And it helped spark a shift. In 2025, Bengaluru announced ₹28 crore for ward-level climate action plans across 28 wards in its civic budget. Each ward will now co-develop blue-green plans grounded in local contexts. While no single actor gets credit, the ripple is clear: when communities document their priorities with clarity, systems eventually follow.
This is what makes grassroots work different. It starts with fit, not scale. It builds trust before toolkits. It knows the difference between what looks good on a map and what survives the monsoon.
So what makes these models work? Three things: proximity, ownership, and the ability to iterate. Proximity brings awareness of what matters most, like when community members mapped potholes not marked in city records, because they walk those lanes daily. Ownership builds accountability, as seen when resident groups followed up week after week to ensure their ward toilets stayed functional. Iteration shows up when plans adapt on the go, like awareness campaigns that tweaked their approach after elders pushed back on how messages were framed. These efforts may not always follow a uniform script, but that’s their strength. What they lack in standardisation, they make up for in relevance. Their strength isn’t just in what they deliver, it’s in the process of how they get there.
And the real lesson? Participation isn’t outreach. It’s architecture.
While the government systems bring scale and resources, the community actors bring trust and adaptability. When we try to separate the two, we miss the point. The strength lies in how they meet.
Because climate disruption isn’t only a scientific challenge, it’s a civic one too. And those who live with fragility often understand the fix. Their solutions may be small, even messy, but they are stitched from closeness, not distance.
The ₹28 crore allocation isn’t the reward. It’s the ripple.
The real work began much earlier, in the narrow lanes, school corridors, and community halls; long before the system arrived.
Because when climate resilience grows from the ground up, it doesn’t just prepare the city. It transforms who the city belongs to.
