By Selling Delhi’s ‘Market Potential’, Draft Master Plan 2041 Leaves Behind the Poor

The latest draft Master Plan accelerates the process of Delhi being sold piece by piece to the highest bidder in line with neo-liberal growth and a privatised market-based economy.

The draft of Delhi’s latest Master Plan that will prevail for the next 20 years up to 2041, boldly declares that the city “is the seed-bed of new ideas and will continue to be the beacon of growth, a face of the ‘new urban India’”.

This is a clear warning to the rest of urban India to sit up urgently and take notice that whatever happens in Delhi now will soon happen in their cities and towns too.

The first caution is that Delhi is acknowledged as the fastest growing economy in the Asia-Pacific, but issues such as pollution, degraded built environment, congestion, lack of safety and disparate living conditions are not seen as threats to its citizens, but to “its market potential and global attractiveness”.

This distinctly economic approach is what frames the entire document. Thus, when it states that there is a “special thrust on urban regeneration especially of unplanned and unsafe areas and people’s health and livelihood”, all citizens need to cautiously negotiate what this splendidly articulated pro-people sentence really means.

What are these unplanned and unsafe areas which are going to merit special attention? As the draft makes clear later on, they are the “unauthorised colonies that fulfil the housing need by providing lesser expensive options (but) are unsafe”, “older built fabric… in dense areas of the city”, and “rental housing (in) unplanned settlements, with issues of tenure insecurity and compromised living conditions”.

According to the Baseline Report on Shelter, this would mean 63.1% of all households or even higher, considering that only 23.7% live in planned colonies but occupy 55% of the land! Thus, two out of every three homes in Delhi – even if they are providing affordable and accessible shelter to citizens who just cannot afford the outrageous land prices – will be “regenerated” because they are perceived by the planners as a threat to the city’s market potential.

The sinister design behind ‘urban regeneration’

This caution is well-merited if one delves deeper to understand what regeneration means. According to the Master Plan, it rests on four legs.

First, land rights will be provided to identified unauthorised colonies. In other words, these citizens who have already paid for the land, housing and services with their own hard-earned money will now be asked to pay even higher amounts in order to become “authorised”.

Also read: On Delhi’s Periphery, a Story of Urbanisation Gone Wrong

Second, in-situ slum rehabilitation schemes shall be implemented, ostensibly to reduce the threat of evictions, but actually to divest these citizens (19.1% of total) of their occupancy of that precious land (0.47% of total) and move them into cramped two-room flats in high-rise (as much as 15 stories and more) tenements after payment of the requisite fee for the luxury of being regenerated.

Delhi slum urbanisation

A woman hangs a blanket out to dry, at a slum in New Delhi, India January 2, 2020. Photo: Reuters/Danish Siddiqui

Third, rental and small format housing will be provided close to mass transit nodes such as the elevated corridors that are being built in Delhi, and clearly not in heart of the city.

Fourth, all this will be made possible by selectively increasing the  floor area ratio (FAR) (along with Transferable Development Right) and reducing the norms, which means that buildings will grow taller and the space and services per person will grow tinier.

Genuine concern? 

What about the great concern for people’s health and livelihood? Here is the second caution that words in this Plan often do not say what they mean.

Since both issues are seen from within the frame of the market, it is not surprising that the Plan reveals at an appropriate moment that “specialty health and higher education are focus areas” as well as niche sectors to fully realise Delhi’s economic potential. This clearly indicates that the health opportunity envisaged in the Plan is linked to super-speciality hospitals that will cater to the diseases of those who can afford such healthcare.

After all, they too are people; but the question is, are they the common citizens of Delhi for whom the Master Plan is being made? For such citizens, there is a mention of health but only in the context of whether their children will “grow up to be healthy and productive adults”.

A significant section of the Plan is devoted to livelihoods, but in a somewhat oblique way because the frame still remains that of Delhi’s global attractiveness. The draft appreciatively delineates the high literacy rate (86.2%) in the city with a workforce of about 1.1 million people between 15 and 59 years of age.

It emphasises “skilling and employment for youth as an imperative for talent retention”, a “focus on facilitating more women to join the workforce by providing safe and gender-friendly streets, public spaces and workplaces with adequate childcare facilities”, and the need to “harness the economic potential” of the increase in the proportion of persons of working age – once again characterising the citizen as a mere economic asset. The planners extend this logic beyond city boundaries by estimating that migration will contribute 41% of the population increase.

Also read: The Centre’s New ‘Transit Oriented Development’ Policy Will Wreck Delhi’s Environment

This workforce is optimistically expected to be absorbed in “cleaner production, start-ups, innovation and cyber economies”, and in “specialty health, higher education, tourism and MICE, modern logistics and specialized trade”. It is obvious that the labour force will no longer be accommodated in the manufacturing sector because “strategic industrial estates and District Centres” will be converted into specialised clusters of knowledge, finance, services, culture or creative hubs of hospitality, logistics and freight, health and education.

The busy, chaotic streets of the Paharganj area of Delhi. Photo: Flickr/McKay Savage/CC BY 2.0.

There is only a passing mention that currently the informal sector “is the largest employer in the city engaging approximately 70% of Delhi’s workforce”. With a flourish of a magician doing the vanishing trick, the Plan declares that this massive informal workforce will be upskilled “for incremental absorption into emerging formal economies”.

As for those who cannot make the cut, there are normative and contrarian statements that “due consideration” should be given to “provision of space for public conveniences, individual and group work as well as childcare, etc.,” as also “the Plan provides adequate space norms and facilities for supporting informal economies”. The fact that these good wishes are essentially directed at the working poor is underlined by the provision of multi-use community work centres/ work spaces “as part of regeneration or improvement of unauthorised colonies, urban villages and slums”.

The same framework of economic opportunism may be clearly perceived in all the other objectives for MPD-2041 related to environmental sustainability (rejuvenating natural assets and supporting green economies), enhancing heritage (opportunities for tourism), low-carbon mobility (homes and jobs closer to mass transit), and physical resilience (digital infrastructure). The city is perceived as just a big engine to consume assets (including human beings) and produce profits for investors.

Delhi for sale!

If this was not evident enough, the Master Plan for 2041 makes it explicit by referring to Master Plan 2021 that “recognized the need to facilitate the participation of private sector in the development process in order to overcome challenges associated with land acquisition” and building upon it to introduce privatisation into every sector from housing to solid waste disposal, repurposing wastelands and drains, transport to vending, heritage to energy and water, and planning to execution.

The final caution that emerges is the emphasis this Plan gives to monitoring and evaluation in order to “become adaptable to change and course correction”. There is a pronounced shift “from the creation of assets to the assessment of impacts”. In other words, there will be no longer any monitoring of how many houses were built or how many jobs were created or how many sewage treatment plants constructed, as may have been stipulated by earlier Plans.

Instead, what will be tracked will be how many slums were rehabilitated, what is the female participation in the workforce, and how much waste water is reused. This new approach fits in very well with the frame of how much the assets are used and reused so that Delhi becomes a beacon of growth that will attract investments and yield higher returns on those investments. It also has a retrospective effect because there is no longer any need to assess how effective the last Master Plan was in terms of delivering on targets.

For example, MPD-2021 had stated that 24 lakh DUs (dwelling units) had to be built in 20 years to both make up for the backlog as well as fill the need for a growing population. But in the current Plan, there is no assessment of whether those houses were built or not; instead there is the subterfuge of citing the Delhi Census of 2011 to show that the total number of households in Delhi then were 33.4 lakhs, and 33.13 lakh houses were occupied, hence the deficit is only about 27,000 housing units.

Also read: Why the Redevelopment of Delhi’s Central Vista Is a Matter of Grave Concern

The entire draft Plan is laden with such subterfuge, serving to conceal the real purpose of enhancing the city’s market potential. In more direct words, the city is being sold piece by piece to the highest bidder and the devil takes the hindmost.

As citizens’ groups and networks under different names queue up to meet the impossible deadline of 45 days to submit their objections, comments, and suggestions by July 21 on the draft Plan, most of them will be desperately seeking to find some little island for their survival in this sea of exclusion. They will welcome with vigour the idea of women-friendly spaces, of vending zones, of waste-pickers being integrated into the collection and processing stream, of in-situ resettlement, of efficiency and cleanliness. But few, if any, will have the stamina to challenge the ruthless fundamentals of neo-liberal growth and a privatised market-based economy.

Dunu Roy is with the Hazards Centre, New Delhi.

Milords on the Bench Have a Choice: To Serve Colonial Law or Constitutional Precept

The law was born out of subjugation in empire and the constitution conceived in the struggle against subjugation. They sit uneasily on a bench etched with the Ashokan emblem of the state.

The ‘majesty’ of the law implies an aura of ‘greatness, dignity, power’; enhanced by popular images of white-wigged and black-robed men looking sternly down upon litigants and lawyers from high benches; evenly punishing the guilty and protecting the innocent.

This power burst forth in India this month. “Detention of accused… is hereby authorised for the (extra) period of 90 days… Inform the accused through jail authority,” said one. “We are, prima facie, of the view that the aforesaid statements… are undermining the dignity and authority of the (court)” said another. “The custodial interrogation of the petitioner is therefore required to ascertain if the use of (her) children in the video was for sexual gratification”; was complemented with, “The explanation… that after the perpetration of the act (rape) she was tired and fell asleep is unbecoming of an Indian woman”.

Are these echoing the trial in 1659 of Prince Dara Shukoh, liberal heir to Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, by white-bearded and black-robed clergy? Accused by austere younger brother Prince Aurangzeb, counter-claimant to the throne, of being a threat to public peace and an apostate from Islam, their sister Princess Roshanara apocryphally intervened, “Why do we have to listen to all this heresy? Punish the heretic as a warning to all.” Dara was executed. Is this the majestic power accruing to kings, intent on securing thrones against usurpers; empires against people?

The ‘freedom’ of the Indian constitution encapsulates visions of ‘justice, liberty, equality, fraternity’; embedded in a liberated people; wanting multiple freedoms after two centuries of subjugation; a national upsurge that demanded freedom; and the rights they gave themselves.

The Constitution of India.

Fencing in of rights

But even the prescient chairman of the drafting committee for the constitution, Dr B.R. Ambedkar, could not prevent brother law-makers from fencing in those rights. Article 21, the right to life and liberty, permitted the state to deprive citizens of both “according to procedure established by law”. Article 22 gave the right to the accused to be informed of the grounds for detention, but only “as soon as may be”. Article 19, the right to freedom, was amended in 1951 and 1963 to allow the state to “impose reasonable restrictions … in the interests of the security of the State”.

Freedom of religion was guaranteed in Articles 25 and 26, but diluted in 1951 to make it “subject to public order, morality and health”. And the right to judicial remedy, in Article 32, was squeezed in 1984 to give parliament the right to modify, restrict, and abrogate this right for those “in the service of the Union or of a state”. This logic of state security, order, and morality is linked to judicial pronouncements made now.

Also Read: Unnatural Justice and the Prashant Bhushan Contempt Saga

Thus, there is the law (born out of subjugation in empire) and the constitution (conceived in the struggle against subjugation) and they sit uneasily on a bench etched with the Ashokan emblem of state – much as the pacifist emperor Ashoka may have sat with the sword on his right and the Buddha on his left. When the tension between them comes close to a rupture, lawmakers shrink constitutional freedoms and law-protectors remain silent.

The national emblem of India.

UAPA and undertrial prisoners

Take the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (or UAPA), originally enacted in 1967, using the escape clause in Article 19, to set out ‘reasonable’ restrictions on freedom to detain secessionists, using vague terms like “disclaims, questions, disrupts” India’s sovereignty. But lawmakers were anything but vague in demanding that the accused prove their innocence – a reversal of the international principle that every person is ‘presumed innocent until proven guilty’.

When the Prevention of Terrorism Act was repealed under popular pressure, the UAPA was swiftly amended to include terrorism in its ambit – without properly defining ‘terror’. The prescription of a time limit for the law was also deleted. Another amendment doubled the time for police custody to 30 days, permitted chargesheets to be filed in 90 days, allowed 180 days of judicial custody; but disallowed bail. Yet another amendment added unspecified “threats to economic security” to terrorism. A final amendment, passed in 2019, shifted the focus from terrorist organisations to individuals.

This context of steadily hardening law defines the ‘success’ of UAPA in delaying justice: a thousand arrested every year, hundreds awaiting trial endlessly, and a handful convicted. In 2017, the minister evaded a question in parliament about how many UAPA undertrials were in jail but announced contradictorily, “The government has zero tolerance policy towards terrorism and it does not analyse data of terrorism-related cases.”

Prima facie

But an analysis of the National Crime Records Bureau’s data from 2016 to 2018 shows that for every 10 convicts, there were 34 undertrials; and of the few tried under UAPA, 67% were acquitted in 2016. Does “zero-tolerance” mean keeping people in jail, rather than proving them guilty? The judicial observation that “prima facie a crime has been committed” conceals the morbid fact that ‘prima facie’ means ‘legally sufficient to establish a fact or a case unless disproved’.

If prima facie, the accusation carries conviction, then why does prosecution not begin? Why are 300,000 awaiting trial, constituting two-thirds of the prison population? Why, if there is prima facie evidence, do two-thirds emerge as innocent? And how do prima facie students, journalists, protestors and activists, poets, lawyers, writers and doctors, professors and environmentalists, ‘individually’ terrorise the state so much that it must put them in dungeons?

Also Read: Why Saifuddin Soz’s Failure to Secure Freedom from ‘House Arrest’ Should Concern Us All

Milords on the bench have a choice before them: do they serve colonial law, or constitutional precept? The choice they make determines whether the nation moves towards majesty or freedom. Even if they steer contempt law to secure their own institution, will they be able to secure society from rupture? An ideology in India is trying to create a new nation in its own image. The courts may spur this revolution. But will they be able to cope with the epidemic of suspicion, fear, and violence that it is unleashing?

Dunu Roy is with the Hazards Centre, New Delhi.

Modi, Coronavirus and the Plague on Reason

This government is dedicated to the welfare of the wealthy, the upper castes, and the consumer. It has distanced and washed its hands of its constitutional responsibilities.

Gautam Navlakha – journalist, rights advocate, dedicated democrat – is directed by the Supreme Court to go to jail for an imagined violent overthrow of the government. He invites compatriots to listen to Leonard Cohen’s call to “Ring the bell/which still can ring; forget your perfect/offering”. Would Navlakha have been surprised to know that the government was listening? For, three days later, the prime minister solemnly called to arms the nation, to imprison itself in a “janata curfew” and “ghanti bajao” – ring a bell – to offer an imperfect offering of thanks to frontline health-care workers.

Apart from a carnival on that placid Sunday evening, what else did the prime minister have on offer? He gravely advised isolating the ill and social distancing. He kindly cautioned old people from going out of the house and others from visiting hospitals. He appealed to employers to pay wages and assured essential services. He anointed the finance minister to head a task force and draft an action plan for the economic challenge. And he sagely reminded his “130-crore” audience that Ram Navami was coming and their sankalp, sanyam and shakti-upasana – determination, discipline, power-worship – would free the nation.

His gravitas elicited a wave of excellent advice: learn from local and global experiences; develop emergency plans; re-start data-gathering systems; develop patient-handling protocols; intensify free testing and contact-tracing; import equipment and drugs; use stadia as medical centres; insure health-care workers; invest in public health and distribution; distribute water equitably; give compensation to the ill; reschedule loans; recover dues from defaulters; tax wealthy corporations; prepare for a major recession; and suspend citizenship tests.

Captains of industry and commerce sneaked in a few of their own demands. These ranged from a 90-day extension for slippage of running accounts into NPA; easier loan repayment terms; permission to renegotiate contracts; compensation for trade losses; regulatory forbearance and partial loan guarantees; tax holidays; cash transfers to Jan Dhan accounts (using the oil windfall to maintain purchasing power of the poor); and end supply constraints to NREGA (to cater to reverse migration).

What about the poor? Many argued that social distancing and isolation were harsh for them. They wanted an increased allocation to a functional PDS; and meals distributed through local centres. Financial needs were linked to 60 days of work for registered workers; jobs in local production, transport, processing, health care, and construction; no job reductions and price hikes; increased wages and equal pay; cash transfers to informal sector workers; compensation for death; enhanced old-age pensions; and suspension of bill payments.

On behalf of the poor, they demanded a freeze on evictions. They asked for safety; halls and schools as emergency centres; mohalla clinics; water and sanitation; paramedics; and free admission, diagnosis, and treatment in all hospitals. Other issues were special trains for migrant workers; affordable credit; fast track courts for cases of violence; helplines for women and children; and reliable information. They suggested an executive task force; higher taxes to pay for welfare; an emergency welfare fund; and not using the crisis to ban protests and abuse human rights.

Also Read: An ‘Anthem’ for Our Troubled Times: Leonard Cohen’s Music Stirs a Range of Emotions

Who did the government of sabka saath, sabka vikas listen to? Five days after his first address, carefully choosing from the petitions, the PM told the nation that the janata curfew had worked well, so he (citing “expert” opinion and “global experience”) was extending it to a “lockdown” for three weeks more. For “supply of essential commodities and health care services” he allotted a munificent Rs 15,000 crore – for equipment, ICUs, ventilators, training, and increasing testing to over 60,000 per week.

The same day, the finance minister exhibited tender concern for investors and firms: e-services; relaxations in taxes, minimum balances, trade conditions, fees, prosecutions, and compliance dates. Two days later, she announced a second package of Rs 1.7 lakh crore (less than 1% of GDP) for food security; cash transfers; insurance for health workers; NREGA wage increases; ex-gratia payments; and, of course, benefits to companies by way of EPF contributions. How a fraction of the working poor was going to access this magnanimity was left to vivid imagination.

The minister of state for labour, generously acknowledging a demand that Construction Welfare Boards should give relief of Rs 10,000 per month, advised all states & UTs to transfer the money with the boards into the accounts of registered workers. This clever ploy meant that the funds will be exhausted giving each registered worker Rs 15,000. How far will this individualised dole last in a long-drawn lockdown? Does it not squander social capital that could be used more productively?

Other informal sector workers do not have boards. Activists suggested that NREGA be extended to all who wish to take advantage of it. But NREGA is a seasonal distress-alleviating scheme for the agricultural off-season for 100 days. For daily wagers, will anything less than 300 days of secure work make any difference? Fish-workers too have asked for compensation: an allowance of Rs 10,000 for 3 months; masks, safety, rations, and fuel; relief from repayment, and guidelines for fishing. Will the government smartly transfer the burden to the Fishermen’s Welfare Corporation?

This government is dedicated to the welfare of the wealthy, the upper castes, and the consumer. It has distanced and washed its hands of its constitutional responsibilities. Where it gets its ‘international’ wisdom from is a mystery, considering that out of 191 countries, only 16 have imposed a national lockdown. South Korea, with no lockdown but a low casualty rate, does not seem to have inspired him; or Cuba; or Sweden. Instead shakti-worshippers invoke the Mahabharata to “defeat” the virus – a mythical war that left 40 lakh dead on the battlefield – and now the power of candles, diyas and torches for nine minutes.

This dream of conquest is self-defeating because the human species is part of nature and defeating nature rebounds to hurt the species. The novel coronavirus is a manifestation of that self-goal. Adopting this kind of upper caste, neo-liberal thought leads to war paranoia: locking up everyone; violently disciplining anyone. At the same time as the working poor flee for their lives from this battlefield of isolation and hunger, there are public spectacles of UP chief minister Bisht seating Lord Ram and MP CM-elect Chouhan unseating Kamal Nath.

A government that has been decimating publicly-funded services, selling profitable public sector companies, propagating market-based solutions that enrich its cronies: such a government is firmly not open to negotiations. So yes, the demands will be made, again and again; but will they be met? Is it possible to move beyond the saffron hue and think how the working poor can mobilise to meet their own needs; laying claims on administrations that may be more responsive; and chalk out a political path to reclaiming their rights to a different mode of dignity and solidarity?

Or is their only solution to desert this merciless society, never mind the gates, the goons, and the guns? As Leonard Cohen sang, a prediction that government would probably not hear,

You can add up the parts
but you won’t have the sum.

You can strike up the march
on your little broken drum;

Every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee.

Dunu Roy is with the Hazards Centre, New Delhi

India’s Citizenship Law Should Not Ignore the Hidden Dimension of ‘Work’ 

Starting from discussions in the Constituent Assembly, citizenship remains untangled is the intertwining between politics and economics.

There is no doubt that the Delhi elections have been comprehensively lost by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), but the subtext is that it improved its vote share from 32.2% in 2015 to 38.5% this time. The Aam Admi Party kept its share of 54.3% in 2015 almost intact with 53.6% in 2020. In other words, the BJP has gained more adherents for its rabid Hindutva agenda, expressed most viciously against those protesting the new emerging norms for citizenship that make a mockery of the Constitution.

At such a time, therefore, it is illuminating to go back to the concept of citizenship as expressed during the Constituent Assembly debates – especially on August 10, 11 and 12, 1949, when the relevant Articles 5 and 6 came up for discussion – and explore whether the concept is frozen or can be developed further. Apart from some renumbering – so that now the Articles are from 5 to 11 – and correction or modification of a few words, the original draft was passed by the assembly as it was, except for an additional Article 10 dealing with “Persons voluntarily acquiring citizenship of a foreign state not to be citizens”.

The main themes of the debate are startlingly familiar in today’s context, even though they were being framed in the shadow of the partition of the country. Thus, while Dr B.R. Ambedkar, the chairman of the drafting committee, framed five categories of persons – born and residing in India; not born but residing in India; resident in India but migrated to Pakistan; resident in Pakistan and migrated to India; and persons (or their parents) born in India but residing outside India – the members had three major concerns.

The concerns

The first concern was who was to be issued permits to return to India as citizens – apart from Hindus and Sikhs who “have no other home but India”. As explained by Ambedkar, only those persons from Pakistan would be allowed who had a permit for Resettlement or Permanent Return. But several members contested this, with Dr P.S. Deshmukh (Central Provinces and Berar) bluntly stating, “For aught I know he might be a fifth columnist”; Prof. K.T. Shah (Bihar) demanding, “to see to it that there would be no Quislings amidst us”; and Thakur Das Bhargava (East Punjab) wary of those who are “occupying lands and usurping the rightful owners by terrorising them and becoming a majority in this country”.

In a similar vein, B.P. Jhunjhunwala (Bihar) echoed that, “people from Eastern Pakistan are infiltrating into Assam for some sinister motive i.e. to increase their population”; Maulana Md. Hifzur Rehaman (UP) cautioned the House against “conspirators and cheats or those who have come to consolidate their business”; Rohini Kumar Chaudhury (Assam) was vehement in excluding “those persons who surreptitiously introduced themselves into my province … to exploit more from that province of Assam”.

Also Read: What We Talk About When We Talk About Citizenship in India

This early version of the ‘ghuspetiya’ (infiltrator) was firmly rebutted by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, who asked “what that word means”, when he was accused of “appeasement of Pakistan, appeasement of Muslims, appeasement of this and that”. Nehru drew significant support from Mahboob Ali Baig Sahib’s (Madras) sharp question to the Members, “What would you do if one of your men becomes a traitor, a Communist and tries to overthrow the Government?” Brajeshwar Prasad (Bihar) also agreed with Nehru “that the security of India today is menaced not by Muslims but by Hindus.” In the final vote, the assembly overwhelmingly agreed with them.

Just as much as the issue of the Muslim ‘traitor’ was agitating the minds of some members, there was a second issue of concern that kept cropping up. This centred around the issue of how politics and economics were intertwined. Jaspat Roy Kapoor (UP) cited the case of government employees, who had opted for Pakistan but “after going over to Pakistan came back to India finding that they had no scope for a decent existence in Pakistan”. Baig also spoke of “persons who are employed in the provinces of Pakistan coming back to India”. And Sardar Bhopinder Singh Man (East Punjab) argued that the permit is not simply “to enable a person to visit India for trade or commerce but that it will entail along with it citizenship rights also”.

The constituent assembly, in one of its meetings. Photo: Journal of Indian Law and Society/The Wire

Shah warned against foreign capitalists who might come “merely to enjoy those benefits of our fiscal or industrial policy, without their heart being in this country”. At the same time, Bhargava was concerned about those who went to the colonies as “indentured labour” and wanted to come back as “industrialists, businessmen and ardent labourers who will certainly be an asset to this country”. Alladi Krishnaswami Ayyar (Madras) also argued that people from Goa, French Settlements and other places “have come to India and have settled down in this country, regarding India as a permanent home, and … have assisted commerce”.

Even Chaudhury confessed that he wanted citizenship rights for people who “had come to Assam … as government servants or as employees of businessmen”, adding however that, “Every province would like to be prosperous but it should not be at the cost of other persons.” N. Gopalaswami Ayyangar (Madras) agreed that “a very large number of Muslims who will come over to India from Pakistan and who will apply for registration and get registered, much to the detriment of the economy of Assam … (and) the economy of West Bengal”. Thus, it was interesting that members could not reconcile the supposed difference between protecting those who, according to them, came in and contributed to the wealth of the nation and those who were a drain on it.

Finally, there was the concern about those whose citizenship status was not made clear in the draft constitution: including women after marriage; infants; persons not born as Indians, or born of parents or grandparents who were Indian; those who, after going over to Pakistan, came back to India and did not want to go back to Pakistan; or those in search of double nationality. Partly because time was limited and partly because no consensus could be reached, the Constituent Assembly left these cases “to be decided by laws which will be made by Parliament hereafter”. In fact, this decision was enumerated in Articles 10 and 11 of the finally approved Constitution.

Accordingly, the Citizenship Act was passed by Parliament in 1955 to provide for citizenship by birth, descent, registration, naturalisation and incorporation of territory. In all these, the condition of ‘domicile’, or being resident on the territory of India, has been the primary consideration. But the question of who is an ‘Indian’ could not be settled even in 1949. There is a curious exchange between Dr Deshmukh and professor Shibban Lal Saksena (UP) where the latter asks for a definition and the former responds with, “I thought that an Indian is a very easily recognisable person. When combined with domicile, it is easier to define it.”

Politics and economics

Within this context, whether the amendments to the Act in 1986, 1992, 2003, 2005, 2015 and now in 2019, have clarified the matter is open to interpretation. But one thread that remains untangled is the intertwining between politics and economics. Is the person who is born and resident in India but who runs away with all the wealth that was created (23,000 dollar-millionaires left India in the four years between 2014 and 2018; just 36 of them are said to have defrauded the public exchequer of Rs 40,000 crore) worthy of being an Indian citizen?

Or conversely, should the persons born in India but resident outside (estimated at 1.8 crore in 2019, half in ‘Muslim’ countries, who sent back $80 billion or Rs 5,70,000 crore) but contributing to much more wealth abroad, be considered Indian citizens? And finally, all those persons who are ‘illegal immigrants’ (only around 55 lakh, or 0.44% of the population, had reported their last residence outside the country in 2011) or internal migrants (100 million who contribute 2% to the national GDP), are they eligible to be citizens or not?

Also Read: Explained: The Nuts and Bolts of Indian Citizenship

The idea of a Republic embodies a social contract wherein citizens collaborate to elect a government and pay taxes so that governance may be possible. Taxes, in turn, can be paid only when citizens –irrespective of whether they are rich or poor or of any religion – are able to protect livelihoods and earn, as guaranteed by the Constitution. Those who contribute to the common wealth, even by providing the most menial of services, should surely be entitled to both the rights and responsibilities of citizenship. If the Citizenship Act is to be amended, the debate on ‘work’ cannot be evaded any more.

Dunu Roy is a political ecologist and director of Hazards Centre, New Delhi.

CAA-NPR-NRC Represent the Culmination of Golwalkar and RSS’s Vision

A six-phase strategy of the Sangh explains many challenges that India is facing today, but also leaves troubling questions for the future.

Its the first few weeks of 2020, the young are out flooding the streets, undaunted by stun guns and lathis, and the messages they carry are powerful – doorstep kolams in Chennai; tonsured heads in Guwahati; human shields in Ahmedabad; girls with tricolours in Malerkotla; singing Jana Gana Mana to greet the new year. They need no sage advice, nor do they need ‘leaders’; they are their own bristling energy. But maybe it is time to remember 1973, 1978, 1983, 1992, 2005 – and 1946 too for that matter – when the young of that time were also out on the streets.

1946 was when the Tebhaga Movement, the Bombay Mutiny and the Telangana Revolt were signalling the end of the British Raj. It was then that three soft-spoken pracharaks were quietly sent by the Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS) to Assam as part of its strategy, systematically laid out seven years earlier in 1939 by ‘Guru’ Golwalkar in We, or Our Nationhood Defined. That book was a translation and elaboration of ‘Veer’ Savarkar’s earlier Rashtra Mimansa, written in 1934, but that was an inconvenient truth to be characteristically ignored, as were the veracity of the ‘facts’ it contained.

Golwalkar’s vision, however, was clear: a Nation comprises five constituent ideas of country, race, religion, culture and language; such a Hindu Nation flourished for thousands of years until the Moslem invaders came; for ten centuries there has been an unflinching war by the Hindus against the Moslems; the Congress consists of an ‘educated’ class of Hindus who find flaws in the Hindu Cultural Organisation (of caste); but the Race Spirit is re-awakening; and the true ‘Nationalist’ should aim to re-build, re-vitalise and emancipate from its present stupor, the Hindu Nation.

Also Read: ‘Golwalkar’s Vision Is Terrifying Because It Has No Place for Modern Democratic Politics’

These pracharaks constituted the first phase of setting up Sangh shakhas to promote Golwalkar’s teachings of imagined splendours and constructed wrongs. They leveraged the existing conflict between migrant Bengali settlers, Bihari and Marwari traders, and the local population, mainly on issues of loss of cultural heritage and employment. They were followed in the second phase by a Praant pracharak, who set up Vivekananda Kendras, Saraswati Shishu Mandirs, Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidyalayas, Vanvasi Kalyan Ashrams, balwadis, tuition centres, study circles, vocational training centres, and hospitals – all for the cultural expansion of the Sangh’s Hindutva ideology into the ethnic Ahomiya and tribal populations. What is significant in the process is the ability of the Sangh to appropriate appealing national and religious symbols. In three decades, by 1975, there were shakhas in place in all districts of Assam.

The first phase constituted setting up Sangh shakhas to promote Golwalkar’s teachings of imagined splendours and constructed wrongs. Photo: Shome Basu

The third phase

This patient brick-by-brick construction of a social and cultural milieu for the Sangh by a generation of dedicated monastic pracharaks has to be understood if one is to grasp its ideology and strategy. Because what evolved in Assam post-Independence had already been put in place in other regions since the 1930s. Thus, when student protests began in Gujarat in 1973, to be followed by student protests in Bihar in 1974, it provided the opportunity for the Sangh to launch its third phase by participating in those regional struggles. It is this phase, lasting through and beyond a period of national Emergency declared by an embattled Congress government led by Indira Gandhi, which consolidated the Sangh’s student and political wings. The Sangh had deliberately stayed out of (indeed, opposed) the national struggle for freedom, and these student protests enabled it to win recognition as a legitimate political player in the shape of the Jana Sangh (JS). The JS strategically merged with the Janata Party to win the elections in 1977, its seats in Parliament jumping from a dismal 22 in 1971 to 93, to form the government at the Centre.

This strategy was accelerated in Assam when the students there launched an agitation in 1979 to correct the electoral rolls by deleting the names of all ‘illegal immigrants’, based on Census data of how many such immigrants had entered the state. This was a continuation of the outsider-local conflict which the Sangh had leveraged earlier. Using its clout at the Centre, the Sangh plunged into the student agitation in Assam with members carefully positioned within to steer the agitation into their mould. The misgovernance by the Janata Party caused it to lose power quickly and, in the 1980 general election, the JS was back to 16 seats in Parliament. However, by then, the Sangh had used its carefully cultivated propaganda to edge its way into the social structure for its fourth phase.

This fourth phase consisted of manoeuvring its apparatus to highlight the issues that posed the Muslim population as the enemy. The Assamese had begun their agitation on a non-communal basis, with equal opportunity and anti-foreigner slogans. But the activists of the Sangh began popularising the detection, deportation, and deletion (the 3D policy) of the Muslim ‘Bangladeshi’ and patiently constructed an image of the ‘foreign invader’.

By 1983, foot-soldiers in 300 shakhas of the Sangh had propelled this imagery into the Nellie massacre, during which thousands of agitators surrounded the village of the same name and in eight hours 1819 persons of Muslim origin were killed. The report of the Tewari Commission into this massacre has not yet been made public. But no less than Atal Behari Vajpayee, the president of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP, the new avatar of the JS) at the time, was quoted as saying in an election speech, “Foreigners have come here and the government does nothing. What if they had come into Punjab instead? People would have chopped them into pieces and thrown them away.”

This phase of direct violence did not pay political dividends as the BJP dropped to a historic low of 2 MPs in the 1984 elections. Hence, the Sangh back-tracked a bit. It piggy-backed the Assam students’ agitation to pressurise the Congress government at the Centre, now led by Rajiv Gandhi, to sign the Assam Accord in 1984, formally adopting the 3D approach.

Also Read: BJP is Using Citizenship Act Amendment to Reinforce and Spread Hindutva in Assam

Ram Janmabhoomi agitation and 1992 Action Plan

The Sangh then felt emboldened to take its social and cultural engineering project further by re-launching the Ram Janmabhoomi agitation based on an imagination of Lord Ram’s birthplace. A year later, the Congress was easily persuaded to amend the Citizenship Act to fix a cut-off date for granting citizenship to Bangladeshi migrants in Assam. This also enabled the Congress in 1988 to order the Foreigners Regional Registration Office (FRRO) to make a study of Bangladeshi settlements in the capital city of Delhi. The consequent growth of the Sangh was displayed in 1989 when the BJP again re-emerged in Parliament with 85 members.

When the number further increased to 120 MPs in the 1991 elections the Sangh began its fifth phase by using the 1988 FRRO study to draw public attention to the growing numbers of ‘infiltrators’ (Bangladeshis) in Delhi – again a subtle mixture of numbers pulled out of nowhere and riding shadowy fears. The Congress under Narasimha Rao was subtly coerced to announce an Action Plan in 1992, followed by Operation Pushback in Delhi’s slums in 1993. Powers were delegated to the Delhi police to detect and deport Bangladeshis from the 11 bastis earmarked by the FRRO study. The Action Plan specifically set a target of 2,000 to 2,500 foreigners to be evicted each month, with the aid of ‘informers’ in the bastis. This marks the outsourcing of indirect, and demeaning, violence to a ‘revitalised’ state force and agents within the basti. When the first batch of 132 detainees were ready, it was the police who shaved their heads, burnt all their belongings, transported them to Sealdah on the Prophet’s birthday, and handed them over to the Border Security Force (BSF), who thrashed them in public to mark a brutal no-return message before sending them across the border.

Adverse publicity caused the Congress government to suspend Operation Pushback. But the spectrum of Sangh-directed activities continued with the Ram Janmabhoomi agitation, resulting in the demolition-as-spectacle of the Babri Masjid at Ayodhya by an inflamed mob of young people in 1992; the transformation of Operation Pushback in Delhi into Operation Flushout all over the country in 1993 – this time with the direct involvement of the Sangh’s cadres; and the BJP’s electoral victory in Delhi’s first assembly elections the same year.

By 1996, the BJP’s election manifesto not only openly adopted the 3D policy for “an alarming growth of a section of the population”, but placed the four Sangh-inspired targets – constructing the Ram Mandir, abolishing Article 370 in Kashmir, bringing in a Uniform Civil Code, and implementing Article 48 (cow protection) – at the heart of its political ambitions. It won the 1996 elections with 161 MPs and formed an alliance government; and again in 1998 and 1999 with 182 MPs (although it lost the Delhi elections in 1998).

Also Read: The Babri Masjid Demolition Was Impossible Without RSS Foot-Soldiers Like These

A juridical twist

With this gradual strengthening of its political manifestation, the Sangh decided it was time for a sixth phase to return to its larger social and cultural agenda, but with a juridical twist. It realised that many of its targets in Assam were protected by the Illegal Migrants (Determination by Tribunal) Act (IMDT) passed by the Indira Gandhi government in 1983. Under the IMDT, the burden of proof to establish nationality was placed on the state. Contesting the pleas for their rights by migrants filed since 1998, one of the Sangh’s Assam collaborators filed a writ in the Supreme Court in 2000 for repealing the IMDT. To make doubly sure, another writ was filed in 2001 in the Delhi high court to take effective steps to remove illegal Bangladesh migrants from Delhi. Following an interim order in the latter, the home ministry formulated an Action Plan in 2002 to expeditiously detect and deport illegal Bangladeshi nationals from Delhi. The target was set even higher than the 1993 Action Plan.

Chief minister Sarbananda Sonowal today ordered an inquiry into the circumstances leading to the alleged spurt of deaths due to electrocution during the seasonal floods in Assam. Credit: PTI

Sarbananda Sonowal filed a petition agains the IMDT Act. Credit: PTI

In 2004, towards the end of the BJP government, news began trickling in that citizens from West Bengal and Assam, working as rag pickers in Delhi, were being routinely arrested on the charge of being illegal immigrants. An association of concerned citizens tracked the news and discovered that the 2002 Action Plan had acquired a vicious veneer over the 1993 one. The local police, and the informers who led them to the alleged illegal persons, had become enmeshed in a system of corruption and indoctrination. An ‘illegal’ person would be identified on the basis of dress (lungi), name (Muslim), and language (accented Hindi). The police would swoop down on the bastis in the dead of night and selectively carry off men, women and children. When documents would be offered by the victims as evidence of citizenship, they would be routinely torn up unless ‘Gandhiji’s note’ (currency above Rs 500) was produced to attest to nationality.

While police vans filled with these unfortunate people waited in the compound of the FRRO office, their papers were taken in and duly signed by a senior police officer acting as the registration officer, and a Leave India Notice issued under the Foreigners Act, making a mockery of the law. In the detention centre, blankets, milk for the children, etc. had to be bought from the police; the detainees were not allowed to offer prayers, there were complaints of physical assault, with slaps, kicks, and punches being regularly meted out. When sufficient numbers of detainees had accumulated, they would be put aboard a closed train to Malda and then transferred to a BSF camp. Multiple incidents of sexual harassment, physical violence, and extortion were reported by those who managed to escape or buy their way out. Those still in custody would be pushed across the fence into ‘no-man’s land’, 5 kilometres from the actual border, in the dead of night and at the point of a rifle, without informing the Bangladesh Rifles on the other side of the border. The state forces were clearly performing as communal and committed agents of the Sangh strategy, but with an embedded vested interest.

The BJP government fell in the 2004 general election, but the sixth phase continued as the Supreme Court announced its decision in the IMDT case in 2005. It was a curious decision, to say the least. Comparing the numbers detained under the IMDT with those detained under the Foreigners Act (FA), the Court arrived at the conclusion that the FA “is far more effective in identification and deportation of foreigners” as compared to the IMDT. Hence, the IMDT “contravenes Article 355 (duty of the Union of India to protect every State against external aggression and internal disturbance) of the Constitution is, therefore, wholly unconstitutional and must be struck down”. The Court recognised that the difference between the two Acts was that the FA places the onus upon the detained person to prove his citizenship, and that there is no forum for appeal. This is a fundamental departure from liberal jurisprudence, which deems a person to be innocent unless proven guilty. Yet the court did not take into account this argument and played right into the hands of the Sangh.

Strengthening hold over many states

In the ten years that the BJP was out of power at the Centre, but strengthening its hold over at least eight of the larger states in the north, the Sangh has perfected this six-fold strategy and is now moving towards the culmination of Golwalkar’s dream. He had rhetorically asked in 1939, “What is to be the fate of all those, who, today, happen to live upon the land, though not belonging to the Hindu Race, Religion and culture?” His answer was chilling:

“There are only two courses open to the foreign elements, either to merge themselves in the national race and adopt its culture, or to live at its mercy so long as the national race may allow them to do so …wholly subordinated to the Hindu Nation, claiming nothing, deserving no privileges, far less any preferential treatment –not even citizen’s rights.”

The three instruments at the centre of the current storm of protests – the Constitution Amendment Act (CAA), the National Population Register (NPR), and the National Register of Citizens (NRC) – are steadily moving in the direction of subordinating those whom Golwalkar called the ‘Mlechchh’: “all those who do not subscribe to the social laws dictated by the Hindu Religion and Culture.” They need not be detained in prisons or pushed across borders; confining them to the uncertain realm of non-citizens in bastis across the nation will be adequate, provided those bastis are, like Kashmir, hemmed in by a ring of steel and cultural ostracisation.

Also Read: If ‘Ma Bharati’s Children’ Are Linked By Blood, Modi Believes Muslims Aren’t Real Indians

That brings us to the implicit connection between the maligned ‘basti’ and the imagined ‘foreigner’. It is not just in the context of the Bangladeshi that this link becomes clear; the experience of total subordination, of jackboots trampling through imperilled lives, of the twin blows of truncheon and teargas, of a continuous chain of dispossession and disenfranchisement, has been the impact of ‘development’ on the labouring poor since the last four decades at least. Bastis in both urban and rural areas have seen many times what the young students in colleges and universities in the cities are seeing today. In fact, it is now the signature of the newest face of surplus accumulation by the enormously rich, as they have learnt that the more indigent and immiserised and disorganised the worker is, the greater the productivity that can be extracted out of his/her subordination. The march of the Hindu Nation is in perfect goose-step with the march of Capital, as is evident from the BJP’s 2019 election manifesto that lays extraordinary emphasis on modernising the Armed Police Forces, investor-friendly growth, e-commerce, e-mobility, artificial intelligence, robotics, self-organised groups, entrepreneurship, and on-line courses.

It is within this six-phased context that the future has to be imagined. Clearly, the possible roll-back of the CAA/NPR/NCR will not stop the Sangh in its tracks; nor an electoral defeat here or a change of office-holder there – no matter how desirable and victorious it may seem at the time. Since the entire fabric of the nation is being ‘emancipated’ (both by the Sangh and World Economic Forum), the challenge is even deeper.

To respond to that challenge needs a soaring imagination and scintillating courage that probably only the young can have.

A protest against the CAA and NRC in Pune. Photo: PTI

If citizenship is under challenge then is it sufficient to try and preserve the old concept of citizenship or to grasp that, apart from birth, descent, residence, and registration (and now religion), work should be a fundamental marker of an individual’s recognition in a nation? Or if the Constitution is under threat, is it enough to attempt to save it, or to move beyond that to a document that promises economic equality, justiciability of the Directive Principles, and eminent domain of the people? If the investor-friendly economy is collapsing, is it useful to fret about how to revive it, or should there be more thought devoted to a labour-friendly one? If public education is on the auction block then should one agitate to stop the auction, or could there be a challenge posed to the right to auction itself?

Reflection has always been harder than action – especially in the tumult of spontaneous action – but reflect we must, for our future depends on it.

Dunu Roy is a political ecologist and director of Hazards Centre, New Delhi

‘Blood Normal’: How an Australian Brand is Dismantling the Period Taboo

The brand’s advertisement shows menstrual blood as red, a man buying pads in a supermarket and a woman taking a menstrual leave.

Last week, menstrual pad brand Libra launched their Blood Normal commercial in Australia, running it during prime time television shows including The Bachelor, The Project, and Gogglebox. Australia is a little late to the party: Blood Normal first ran in the UK and Europe on October 2017 and won the Grand Prix at Cannes in 2018 for its de-stigmatised depiction of menstruation.

Breaking new ground in menstrual product advertising terms, the advertisement has received most attention for showing menstrual blood as red and on the inside of a woman’s thigh, rather than as the bizarre blue liquid we’ve seen for decades being squirted onto a pad by someone in a lab coat.

Busting period stigmas

The advertisements bombard us with a rapid-fire array of stigma-busting micro-dramas featuring fashionable young people (some of whom are well-known European cultural influencers). A hip boyfriend (Swedish fashion blogger Julian Hernandez) buys pads in the local supermarket; a young woman (French activist Victoire Dauxerre) stands up and asks “Does anyone have a pad?” across a dinner table of hipsters; a university student walks into a public toilet carrying a wrapped pad openly in her hand; a woman’s fingers type: “I am having a very heavy period and will be working from home today”.

Unpacking the ad reveals a combination of the old and the new in menstruation ad-land. There is the tired old trope of the menstruating woman engaging in boisterous and fun physical activity, echoing the freedom message of women dressed in (improbable) white, riding horses and motorbikes in ads from the 1960s on.

Wearing white without fear is the goal of menstruating women in this 1966 print advertisement.  Image credit: Photoplay magazine/ Flickr, CC BY

In Blood Normal, the notion that a menstruating woman can do anything is taken into a more intimate territory, with a scene of a couple having (gentle) period sex. A woman shown at the swimming pool looks serene and thoughtful, more as if she is taking time out for self-care than trying to prove menstruation doesn’t make any difference in her life and that she is as non-cyclical as a man.

The modern-day stance that menstruation should be suppressed emerged from the second wave feminist need to assert women’s equal rights within a prominent masculinised world.


Also Read: The Question You Should Never Ask Women – Period


Blood Normal breaks all grounds by presenting the moods and moments of the menstrual experience, including the pain and the turning inward. It also does a brilliant job of showing the sweetness of getting and giving support within a sisterhood and brotherhood, in an idealised setting in which everyone is menstrually-aware.

This vision might be nearer than we think: the characters in Blood Normal are in their 10s and 20s and recent reports indicate this generation is rapidly shifting in terms of menstrual norms. Young women are reporting much higher interest in menstrual cycle awareness and it is now one of the ‘biggest wellness trends’.

In Australia, talkback radio reflected this shift, picking up on suggestions of menstrual leave. Celebrity Yumi Styne’s book for first-time menstruators Welcome to Your Period was published this month.

Menstruation is a big business

Despite this ad being touted by its makers as a public service, we cannot forget the corporate profit-driven self-interest involved in menstrual product ad construction. Recent valuations of the “global feminine hygiene product” market (of which around 50% is menstrual pads) vary from US$20.6 billion (A$30.5 billion) to US$37.5 billion (A$55.5 billion), with projections of US$52 billion (A$77 billion) by 2023.


Also read: We Need Men to Talk About Periods: Oscar Winner Guneet Monga


High-profit margins along with environmental devastation are contained within those figures. Disposable products use up resources, clog landfill sites, and pollute oceans. In the past, manufacturers have been less than honest about product safety, such as in the infamous Rely tampon Toxic Shock Syndrome scandal. Menstrual product advertising has been shown to increase self-objectification and has cynically exploited and added to anxiety surrounding leaks and smells.

There’s a massive gulf between the sweet and loving world of the Libra ad and the uncomfortable reality of the disposable menstrual product industry.

More work to do

So, why now? Why has it taken the disposable menstrual product industry almost a hundred years to talk about menstruation as normal and in terms that actually match lived experience, rather than as an unspeakable problem that their products will absorb and conceal, allowing the menstruator to “pass” as a non-menstruator.

The answer partly lies in the process of cultural change: things take time, and menstrual stigma was a big chunk of patriarchal power relations for feminism to tackle. It also lies in the influence of the new “femtech”: new cycle tracking apps, and reusable pads, period underwear, and menstrual cups made using new technologies. These innovations are reshaping menstrual experience in ways that disrupt self-objectification based on stigma, while replacing it with new forms of control through data collection.

Blood Normal is a great ad campaign, and yes, menstrual stigma is being dismantled. But we’re not there yet. When all women have access to reusable, sustainable menstrual products; when menstrual self-care becomes a cultural norm in homes, schools, and workplaces; when women feel free not only to jump around when bleeding but to live with the cycle rather than against or in spite of it, then we’ll be there.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article here.

Featured image credit: YouTube screengrab

Is ‘Right to Work’ More Important Than ‘Minimum Income Guarantee’?

Various remedies are being suggested to tackle the growing rate of unemployment, but are they in tandem with the needs of the workers?

Two issues were concealed under the din of elections. The first is the depth of the agrarian crisis with rising costs, falling prices and diminishing livelihoods. The second is the declining rate of employment in urban India, even within the informal sector, and the tumult among the youth who have no future.

While most electioneering superficially touched upon the two problems and their remedies, the attention paid to both by academics and the media exhibits a social pressure.

The purpose of this essay is to examine if this attention is in accord with the needs of the workers, as expressed in documents and charters issued on their behalf, on the issue of urban unemployment.

One of the pivots around which this examination will take place is the proposal to have an Urban Employment Guarantee Programme. The other is the suggestion to implement a Minimum Income Guarantee.

The lead in the first has been taken by scholars from Azim Premji University (APU), who have recently published their report on ‘Strengthening Towns through Sustainable Employment: A Job Guarantee Programme for Urban India’ (JGPUI).

The second featured in the manifesto of the Indian National Congress (INC), as the Nyuntam Aay Yojana (NYAY) that promised to transfer Rs 6,000 per month directly into the bank accounts of around five crore households constituting the bottom 20% of the population.

Set against these two was a Workers Charter for the 17th Lok Sabha election, mapped out by the New Trade Union Initiative (NTUI), and the Right to Work Bill (R2WB) prepared by the Sajha Manch. The former is a national federation of several independent trade unions formed in 2001 to give space for the co-existence of multiple progressive political tendencies. The latter is a platform of small informal labour organisations in Delhi who came together in 1998 for mutual support.

Job guarantee programme vs NTUI

Let us begin by examining the JGPUI. The APU scholars have studied the national Swarna Jayanti Shahari Rozgar Yojana (1997), National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (2005), National Urban Livelihoods Mission (2013), the Ayyankali Urban Employment Guarantee Scheme of Kerala (2010) and the Yuva Swabhiman Yojana of Madhya Pradesh (2019) to prepare their recommendations. Their first provision is for 100 days of guaranteed work at Rs 500 a day (based on the existing daily wage across all urban occupations in 2018).

NTUI, on the other hand, demands that all contract workers with more than 240 days of employment under a single principal employer should be confirmed as permanent workers and paid a national floor level minimum wage to be recommended by a Wage Commission, pegged to GDP growth and average productivity increase, at not less than Rs 23,000 per month – or a minimum of Rs 880 a day.

There is a difference in perspective here. From the academic’s point of view, the average urban worker is unemployed for 100 days a year and, therefore, needs that many days of extra work at an existential survival wage – based on the minimum required to keep a worker alive. NTUI’s trade unions, on the other hand, wish to protect their workers even when they are employed for 240 days on contract, and to extend that protection to the full year at a living wage, as agreed to at the 15th Indian Labour Conference – based on the minimum food, housing, clothing and other social needs of a worker’s family of four.

Also read: Recognising the Challenge of Income Inequality in India

The work of the Sajha Manch reflects a third perspective that emerges from 17 studies conducted by the organisation in six resettlement colonies, with a total of over 3,000 respondents. These showed that 20.5% had permanent jobs, 34.6% were on contract, 24.8% were self-employed, the remaining 20.1% depended on odd jobs or were unemployed.

Hence, all these segments represented a broader class at work, and through public meetings and workshops, the Manch adopted the common criteria of 300 days of work at a living wage for all segments, to be negotiated annually at a tripartite Labour Conference. With the help of some lawyers, they then framed a Right to Work Bill (R2WB) around these criteria.

How will the work be generated?

The second question that follows is: how is the work going to be generated? Here too there is a difference in perspective. For its 100 days, JGPUI provides for a variety of works: including all public works, all public welfare services, protection of the urban commons, data gathering and paid apprenticeships for 150 days in all the above. NTUI is silent on how to create more work, although it does demand a National Urban Employment Guarantee Act along with a wage subsidy to micro and small enterprises.

R2WB lists several ways of generating work: labour-intensive public works with a material to wage ratio of 40:60, a cap on the capital investment per work opportunity created in all public and private projects, lifting the 1990s ban on recruitment in all public departments and placing restrictions on contracting out and privatising work which affects the availability of work.

In addition, it legislates for the entire class of workers by providing legal space, resources and licenses for, and removing restrictions on, productive work, legal identity for the working person, appropriate credit on easy terms, setting up training centres for new and innovative skills and assistance centres for occupational health and safety.

Who can get work?

The third question: who can get work? JGPUI proposes that one adult member from every household in the town would be eligible. But there would be two categories: one with education up to Class XII and having informal skills, eligible for all types of public works; another with a formal diploma or degree, who can apply for apprenticeships in administrative tasks.

NTUI retains its focus on contract labour, but tries to overcome a division among workers by stipulating a wage parity ratio not exceeding 1:24. R2WB adopts a demand-driven approach by declaring that work has to be provided to all persons, working or willing to work, and who have registered in Labour Exchanges for this purpose.

Payment: under JGPUI, workers are to be paid as per a job card that records the name, address, qualification and skills – and becomes the basis for getting jobs, as well as for updating when work is provided. A job card holder not provided with work would have to be paid an unemployment allowance.

NTUI demands an employment guarantee Act without any details. Thus, it may believe that unions cannot design the law. R2WB, on the other hand, brings law-making into the hands of the worker by specifying that every person registering at the Labour Exchange would have to be issued an identity card by the Exchange. The identity card would function in the same manner as the JGPUI job card to record all work done and income earned.

The state government has to provide work to every applicant, failing which she/he shall be entitled to unemployment assistance not less than three-fourths of the living wage. If the work does not enable the worker to earn a living wage, even then the state has to pay the balance wage.

Who administers the programme?

In JGPUI, the urban local body (ULB) is designated as the authority responsible for administering the programme. It will identify projects, prepare annual work plans and implement the programme while involving the ward committees and ward sabhas and with the help of dedicated and trained professionals.

Apart from the mention of an Act, the NTUI depends on an expert committee to set the methodology for determining minimum wage, an advisory board to revise minimum wages and minimum wage boards to implement wage payment.

But R2WB entrusts the preparation of the overall work plan to the state government, based on a survey of applicants at the Labour Exchanges set up in every ward by the Labour Department. The task of the ULBs or nagar panchayats is to finalise the projects at the local level and to supervise and monitor their implementation. Where the urban population is large, this task is allotted to the ward sabha or mohalla sabha. The labour officer in the Labour Exchange is held responsible for disbursing the unemployment or under-employment assistance.

Accountability

On the issue of transparency and accountability, JGPUI lays emphasis on proactive disclosure along with periodic social audits and public hearings through an independent social audit unit, with ward officers and trained social auditors, set up by the state government. It also stipulates that the grievances are addressed through grievance redressal councils and grievance redress officers at the levels of government and ULB.

Also read: ‘Minimum Income’ in India Must Come Through Jobs, Public Services and Pensions

NTUI feels the right to inspect and prosecute cases of minimum wage violation should be decentralised to registered trade unions. R2WB insists that the grievance redressal function should be vested in elected Worker Monitoring Committees at the Labour Exchange level. These committees are to also maintain oversight over all payments of wages and allowances, as well as address complaints concerning the implementation of a scheme or project.

Budget

Finally, with respect to budget provisions, we can again see divergences in approach. JGPUI estimates a cost of Rs 2.8 lakh crores on 5.9 crore potential workers in towns with less than ten lakh population. This amounts to about 1.7% of GDP. NTUI makes no budgetary claims. R2WB postulates that a national level, and in several states, Right to Work Fund(s) have to be established through appropriation by the respective legislatures.

In addition, these funds have first claim on penalties imposed on contractors, companies, corporations and government establishments for retrenchments and casualisation of work, on levies applied to discourage products or processes which contribute to global warming, higher taxes on higher consuming classes and the social and environmental costs imposed on high energy and material consuming development projects.

Now, we come to the NYAY scheme, which the INC promised to implement if voted to power. We now know that the party isn’t going to be in power – but the scheme is still worth analysing. Several academics have commented at length on it. It will suffice here to mention three that are fairly representative of the divergences among them.

Andy Mukherjee cites studies to show that between 1981 and 1991, when there were high barriers to foreign trade and investment, 32% of the economy’s value added went to labour as compensation, creditors claimed 27% as interest, and less than 21% accrued to shareholders as profit.

But after 1991, when import duties and license restrictions were relaxed, it became three to four times more expensive to hire workers relative to capital goods and, between 2001 and 2013, labour’s share of India’s value-added dropped to 23%, lenders’ take fell to 12%, but profit’s share zoomed to almost 50%. So liberalisation has produced a billion-plus working population that is pauperised. Politicians are now being forced to compensate them and the basic income guarantee is a type of compensation.

Jayati Ghosh finds the scheme to be “laudable in intent”, but “completely unworkable” in its present form. For her the fiscal cost is not high. It is the workability of the scheme that concerns her, as well as “the possibility of other and better ways of using fiscal resources”.

The first problem is how to identify the eligible, since it is hard to measure incomes. The second problem is how to deliver cash incomes to the identified poor. Hence, Ghosh suggests a strategy of providing universal employment guarantee, universal basic services and universal pensions. All this would create significant multiplier effects. The total cost would be only about three times the proposed income guarantee scheme for the poorest.

Sudipto Mundle agrees that it would be difficult to identify, and deliver cash incomes to the eligible. But he argues that if the following are excluded – all men; all women who are income taxpayers or from a household that already has a beneficiary; all persons with cement-brick homes, power connections, telephone connections, and so on; while the following are included – male recipients of old age or disability allowances; and males heading households with no women: then the scheme has merit.

He estimates a cost of about 3.3% of gross domestic product (GDP) – or around 2.5% of GDP by 2023. Merit subsidies, withdrawn subsidies and tax exemptions and concessions, together offer fiscal space of over 10% of GDP to finance Mundle’s modified scheme.

NTUI has not expressed an opinion so far on the NYAY scheme. So if we take the Congress party as the voice of the trade unions associated with the Indian National Trade Union Congress; then it would seem that there is significant union support, as long as the Congress does not cut down on other welfare measures.

For the Sajha Manch, the discussion on urban employment began when work declined with the closure of “non-conforming” industries in Delhi in 1999 and the sealing of “unauthorised” commercial units in 2005. Both were part of the general anti-poor bias of the executive and judiciary, trying to regulate or abolish street vendors, cycle rickshaws, manual labour and self-employment.

The constituents of the Manch thus argued for the need to establish a “Right to Work” rather than an employment guarantee scheme: a demand that negates a minimum income guarantee scheme that has no work.

The right of sympathetic academics and unions to advance the rights of workers cannot be denied. At the same time, workers have a right to think over and promote their own cause. If the two are not working in tandem then we may well have class at work in defining perspectives of work itself.

Dunu Roy is Senior Fellow at the Centre for Public Affairs and Critical Theory, Shiv Nadar University.

In Modi’s India, the Real Champions of the Earth Are Fighting for their Space

All the practitioners of sustainable development are being subordinated by the forces of Hindutva.

Is environment standing in the way of development? Some say yes, others say no, and a few think it is an incorrect statement of the problem. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has said that India is committed to protecting the environment. He has also pronounced that the National Geographic Greendex Report – in a survey of 18,000 consumers in 18 countries in 2013 before his government was formed – ranked India at the top for greenest consumption pattern. Then his government-issued notifications modifying rules for multiple areas of development: so much so that India is now down to 177 in the Environmental Performance Index even as it has zoomed upwards in the Ease-of-Doing-Business Index. And recently, UNEP has bestowed on him and French President Emmanuel Macron the 2018 ‘Champion of the Earth’ award for their leadership in the promotion of solar energy. So what exactly is our honourable PM championing?

One of his government’s premier initiatives has been the Swachh Bharat Mission; so we can take that as an example of his priorities. Perhaps it would help to also see the notion of ‘swachhta’ (or cleanliness) within some historical context. When the Treaty of Allahabad was signed in 1765, between the Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II and Robert Clive of the East India Company, marking the beginning of British rule in India, a courtier in the Mughal court is reported to have said, “What honour is left to us when we have to take orders from a handful of traders who have not yet learnt to wash their arses?” The concept of a clean bottom embedded in his rueful observation leads us to rapidly industrialising England of that period when London became a city of imperial splendour. That is also when the practice of indoor defecation into chamber pots began in the houses of the wealthy. At night the contents of the chamber pots would be thrown out of the windows onto the streets to keep the home clean.

Swachh bharat

Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Credit: Twitter

By 1830, there was the inevitable outbreak of cholera in London from the excreta lying in the streets and ‘muck-men’ were hired to carry off the excreta in wicker baskets to keep the street clean. The excreta was thrown on the banks of the river, which would rise and recede with the tides, leading to its anaerobic (absence of oxygen) decomposition. This led to the Great Stink of 1860 that penetrated deep into the halls of parliament. Outraged members immediately passed laws to control the smell and that is how the modern technology of ‘sanitation’ was born. The excreta was now mixed with water and led off into underground sewers that were laid in the beds of small tributaries of the Thames. These sewers would discharge their loads into the Thames downstream of the city, and in 1880 the engineers had to build sewage treatment plants at the outfalls of the sewers to keep the river clean. By 1960, the Thames was ‘dead’ once again and the government had to build more treatment plants and longer sewers to release the effluents at the estuary and make the sea dirty.

In 1889, Mohandas Gandhi reached London to study law, and was greatly impressed by the sanitary process that made faeces ‘disappear’. As he was to say in 1925, “I learnt 35 years ago that a lavatory must be as clean as a drawing room. I learnt this in the West… The cause of many of our diseases is the condition of our lavatories and our own bad habit of disposing of excreta anywhere and everywhere. I, therefore, believe in the absolute necessity of a clean place for answering the call of nature,” and that “the habit has become so firm in me that even if I wished to change it I would not be able to do so.” But that did not prevent him from challenging the equally ‘firm habits’ of others in 1935, stating, “The wonder is that in spite of this sinful misuse of village tanks, villagers have not been destroyed by epidemics.” By “sinful misuse” he was referring to the practice of outdoor defecation and its health impact on village tanks. Now he and his spectacles have been put to work to make Bharat ‘swachh’ by building toilet after toilet along with (presumably) septic tanks and sewers.

Also read: How Is Modi’s Swachh Bharat Dealing With the Public Health Crisis of Open Defecation?But if we pause to reflect on Gandhi’s astonishment, we may begin to ask why is it that villagers have not been destroyed by epidemics in all these centuries of outdoor defecation? The answer may be quite simple actually. Human faeces emerge out of the body, separated from water (urine) by the body, and are then exposed to air and sunlight. These conditions permit the aerobic (with oxygen) decomposition of the faeces whereby dry faeces combines with oxygen to produce non-toxic oxides. But if faeces are transported underground – where conditions resemble the intestines – they would once again encounter water and be deprived of oxygen and sunlight.

Hence, anaerobic decomposition will produce toxic substances such as methane, hydrogen sulphide and ammonia. It will also provide a good habitat for all the disease-producing germs, all of which then flows into streams and rivers. And this is what eventually kills those unfortunate human beings who are lowered into sewers and septic tanks to clean them, as well as the multitude who have to drink the polluted water.

Also read: Rs 10 Lakh: The Price of a Manual Scavenger’s LifeClimate change is the ‘new’ challenge thrown at us by this kind of ‘development’ where the solution is often worse than the problem. The prime minister has, of course, denied that climate change is a scientific possibility. But a National Action Plan for Climate Change exists and was announced ten years ago to “adapt to climate change and further enhance the ecological sustainability of India’s development path”, using “new and additional financial resources and climate-friendly technologies”.

But if we consider climate change within a frame of geological cycles, it took the Earth all of 60 million years of the Carboniferous Period to fix the carbon from the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere of that period into flora and fauna and then pressure cook them into all the known fossil fuels that we have today. If we unfix that carbon in the estimated 400 years it will take for the coal to be burnt up, then we are trapped between two processes with rates that are different by 150,000 times. Can adaptation, finance and technology match that rate of change?

However, if we consider that, for change to be kept within 2°C, the boundary condition is that per capita we should release less than 2.5 tonnes of carbon dioxide, while the global average was (in 2014) less than five tonnes, then we have to halve the energy consumption worldwide. Currently, the Indian average is about 1.7 tonnes while the Americans are top-of-the-heap at 16.5 tonnes (beaten only by the oil-rich Arabs). So, in factual terms, Indians are already exhibiting best practice while the Americans (from whom we expect finance and technology) are worst practice.

At the same time, in India, the wealthy are emitting at rates well above the average American and what keeps the national average down is the large number of people who live below the poverty line. Translated into actual lifestyles in India, by measuring carbon footprints, it can be shown that anyone who earns more than Rs 10,000 per month is exceeding the limit permitted by the Earth. In other words, those of us who do not live within that limit are all guilty of contributing to climate change.

Curiously, all the real practitioners of sustainable development, who live below the limit – fishermen, sewerage workers, small farmers, indigenous peoples, waste-pickers, Dalit manual scavengers, Muslim artisans, butchers, women, backward castes, Buddhists, Ramdasis, Kabirpanthis – have been relegated to the bottom of the Vedic hierarchy for centuries by the Code of Manu. The organic and natural division of labour was converted by Vedic theorists into an artificial and unnatural segregation that has remained rigid and unyielding over the course of generations.

Representational Image. Credit: PTI

Representational Image. Credit: PTI

Is it any wonder, then, that of the five precepts taught by the rebel Buddha, two underlined the need to abstain from taking life and to abstain from taking what is not given? Two centuries later, the Mauryan emperor, Ashoka, developed the Buddha’s precepts further into 33 edicts, of which a few indicate the appreciation of limits in nature and society that need to be respected.

As Bhim Rao Ambedkar analysed long ago, the only escape for the Brahmins from their social and political decline under the Ashokan state was to usher in a counter-revolution. Thus, a century after Ashoka, Pushyamitra, Brahmin commander of the Mauryan army, assassinated the last of the Mauryas and initiated the Shunga dynasty with the aim “to destroy Buddhism as a state religion”. It was during his reign that the Manu Smriti was written codifying the laws of caste, and ever since the shudras, ati-shudras and mlechhas have been relegated to the lowest of the low.

Some parallels to the second century BC may be found in the present period when the abolition of caste and equality in law, offered however tentatively and tenuously by the constitution of independent India, is now sought to be subordinated once again by the forces of Hindutva. And this subordination is not only of the ‘lower’ castes but all other social forces considered to be antithetical to Brahminical Hinduism, from Christianity to Islam, from Bhakti to Sufi, from Dalits to feminists, from secularists to ‘urban Naxals’.

Dunu Roy is Senior Fellow at the Centre for Public Affairs and Critical Theory, Shiv Nadar University.

Will the ‘Infection’ in the Body Politic Mar the Nation?

When entitlements are denied or reduced, we instinctively turn to the constitution but the constitution itself is wide open to interpretation as per the ideological orientations and personal beliefs of those in power.

When entitlements are denied or reduced, we instinctively turn to the constitution but the constitution itself is wide open to interpretation as per the ideological orientations and personal beliefs of those in power

Credit: Sean Ellis/Flickr Commons

Credit: Sean Ellis/Flickr Commons

Union urban development minister M Venkaiah Naidu recently said in riotous Haryana that law, order and peace are a must for attracting investment. But why is attracting investment necessary? Is it because it is believed that investment spurs economic growth which, in turn, eradicates poverty; the more we produce the more there will be to distribute to the poor?

In the 26 years since the economic crisis in 1990, GDP growth rates have gone below 5% only thrice, otherwise averaging over 7%. Over the same period, the population growth rate has come down from 2% to 1.2%. This sustained economic growth should have removed poverty by now but about one-third of the population continues to enjoy living below the official poverty line. In fact, as some economists have shown, the Gini coefficient – the index of inequality – has obstinately loitered around 0.3, which means the poor have become poorer while the rich have become richer. As disparities have grown, employment growth rates have dropped from 2.61% to less than 1%, giving rise to “jobless growth,” particularly in the young educated workforce.

What reality is telling us is that there is something rotten in the state of India.

Some analysts say this is because economic growth is actually transferring wealth from the poor to the rich, while others reason that the “trickle down” to the poor has to be encouraged by deliberate policy measures.

Indian governments have been following the second path – claiming to make available social security to the most vulnerable sections. But, in the recent budget, the share allocated for Integrated Child Development Services has reduced by 10%; it has gone up by a pitiable 2% for the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan; by 2% for the National Health Mission; by 4% for the revived (and reviled) MNREGA; by 4% for rural roads; and by 5% for the Mid-Day Meal Scheme – all well below the 7.3% economic growth rate. It was announced that the allocation for agriculture has been power-jumped by a huge 127%, but that was an exercise in creative accounting transferring the subsidy on farm loans from the Department of Financial Services to the Department of Agriculture. While subsidies for the poor remained around 2.5 lakh crore rupees (less than 4% of GDP), transfers to the rich, by way of revenue foregone, were about 5.7 lakh crore rupees (more than 10% of GDP).

When entitlements are denied or reduced, we instinctively turn to the constitution and Articles 16-29 on fundamental rights. Curiously, only two of these 14 articles – on the prohibition of child labour and the freedom to pay religious taxes – confer absolute rights. The rest are all discretionary. Thus Article 15 (discrimination) permits the state to make special provisions; Articles 16, 19, 25, and 26 on freedoms of equality, speech, conscience and religion can be restricted by requirements of residence, public order, decency or morality; Articles 17 and 18 on the abolition of untouchability and titles have to be in accordance with the law; Articles 20 and 22 on protection from conviction and arrests cannot protect those who are already afoul of the law; Article 23 (forced labour) can be suspended by the state for public purposes; Article 28 (religious instruction) exempts only private institutions; and Article 29 (minorities) prohibits denial of admission on grounds only of religion, race, caste or language. Even the much-celebrated Article 21 (life and liberty) says the denial of these can be justified by “lawful procedure’. Thus, the constitution is wide open to interpretation as per the ideological orientations and personal beliefs of those in power.

Since power is now bowing before “collective conscience,” “akhand Bharat” and “hurt sentiments,” but shrugging off the enrichment of the rich and the impoverishment of the poor, is it adequate to defend the constitution? Do we forget that the word is a product of “constituting” the nation: one that did not exist from the beginning of time, but was given to the people on November 26, 1949? Hence, is it possible to constitute other nations too, even under the benevolent gaze of this constitution?

In a histrionic speech in parliament, human resource development minister Smriti Irani declared, “I am not certifying your idea of India, but do not demean mine.” What was this “idea” of India that should not be demeaned? Irani’s text suggests that to “perpetuate the colonial legacy of portraying ancient India, as synonymous with Hindu” was acceptable, but placing Shivaji on the same pedestal as “Akbar, Aurangzeb as responsible educators and animators,” teaching about “Hindu-Christian riots in Kanyakumari” and referring to the “atrocities of the Indian state” in Kashmir were not. A festival where “a fair-skinned beautiful goddess Durga is depicted brutally killing a dark-skinned native called Mahishasur” was not in harmony, but a maternal instinct for Rohith Vemula, “as the death of a child and not as a death of a Dalit” was.

Irani invoked the security and peace of this idea of the nation in multiple fashion by stating that “35 security personnel and three female guards” certified that students in JNU chanted “anti-national slogans,” akin to “those who want to bear arms to overthrow the state” and implying that this chanting was made possible by those students who “have gone and lost their lives on the border.” In a chilling allusion to how this new nation was being constituted, Irani quoted Cicero (writing about the civil wars that destroyed the Roman Republic over 2000 years ago), “But the traitor moves amongst those within the gates freely. His lie whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of the government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor, he speaks in the accent familiar to his victims…In a night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist.” It was perhaps this “talking truth to power” that elicited the high praise of satyamev jayate from Prime Minister Narendra Modi.

Does this ‘infection’ of the body politic now also lead to gangrene of the ‘nation’?

Dunu Roy is Senior Fellow at the Centre for Public Affairs and Critical Theory, Shiv Nadar University

Slums are the First Settlements. Smart Cities Must Improve, Not Clear Them

The people of the slums transform the land, they transform our products, they transform our lives – can we but imagine what they would transform if they were to have a say in democratic governance?

The people of the slums transform the land, they transform our products, they transform our lives – can we but imagine what they would transform if they were to have a say in democratic governance?
Pallam slum, Chennai. Credit: Jean Pierre Candelier/Flickr NCC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 Words conjure meanings; words conjure worlds; a word like ‘slum’ is loaded with the historical weight of the industrial revolution in 17th century England. ‘Revolution’ creates an image of a ‘dramatic change’, while ‘industry’ means ‘hard work’, but together they tell us nothing about the grim conditions that the new workers encountered as they poured into the cities to run the machines that the revolution had created. Once in the city, they settled where they could, in the dark alleys and lanes, near where they found work, with low wages, long hours, and high risks. Thus the word ‘slum’ was born, as slang, denoting a ‘back alley’, ‘a street of poor people’. These filthy alleys also became the venue for a vibrant street life that attracted the dissolute gentry to go ‘slumming’ – in search of food and drink, bars and bordellos, diversion and amusement.

Building over filth

The endemic filth in the city struck in the first half of the 19th century, through a series of cholera epidemics in London. That was when posters appeared denouncing the “low dens” from which “cholera heaves upward” and “seems to roll towards us” in “mansions too where wealth and luxury are powerless protectors”. No less than Cardinal Wiseman railed against what he saw outside his Abbey – the “concealed labyrinths of lanes and potty and alleys and slums, nests of ignorance, vice, depravity, and crime”. In those days, the wealthy defecated in chamber pots and threw the muck out into the street with a loud cry of ‘slops’. Perhaps the Cardinal’s ire was directed at the Muck Men who carried the excreta to dump it into the River Thames, a practice that eventually led to the ‘Great Stink’ of 1858. So terrible was the odour that pale Members of Parliament speedily passed a Bill to build sewers!

Street map of downtown Manhattan with the original location of Collect Pond marked out. Crefit: Wiki images

Street map of downtown Manhattan with the original location of Collect Pond marked out. Crefit: Wiki images

Labourers from the back alleys were now summoned to convert all the streams that flowed through the city into brick sewers. These sewers reinforced the exclusion within the city, as houses on sewered roads were acquired by the well-to-do with their flush toilets, while the poor retreated further into the back alleys. The cartographer Charles Booth collapsed their description as ‘labourers, street sellers’ with ‘loafers, criminals, and semi-criminals’. Every city in the world displays a similar imagery. New York threw its trash into Collect Pond, and when the lake eventually filled up, Five Points (with five streets) slum was built over it to become home to slaves and migrants. The Bidonville in Paris was built of old drums (bidons) by migrant Muslim Algerians fleeing from their collapsing native agriculture. The favelas (named after a skin-irritating tree) of Rio de Janeiro were built by discharged army soldiers, former slaves, and rural landless who had nowhere to live.

An army of unpaid land developers

 

The zopadpattis (cluster of cottages) are the fore-runners to the chaalis (anklet, gallery) of Mumbai that housed the workforce that came from the Konkan and the Ghats to man the booming textile industry. As Burnett-Hurst, Secretary of the 1925 Indian Economic Enquiry Committee, described a chawl, “The sole window overlooked a gully reeking of filth into which a basket of human excreta was emptied by a sweeper woman”.

Not only is the trail that workers follow the same in city after city, the trajectory of the ‘slums’ they build is also the same. From a rough individual shack they graduate into a cluster of huts where they can collectively seek some services from the city; then into more durable homes, which are ‘notified’ slums. But once the land appreciates in value, the rich start demanding that the poor must make way for the forward march of ‘development’.

Then homes are rudely demolished and the poor ‘resettled’ in inhospitable lands far from livelihoods and services, where the struggle to rebuild homes continues in much the same fashion: from finding transport to get them to work, levelling the land to erect liveable houses, getting in minimum services, to establishing work and trade linkages. The urban poor become an army of unpaid land developers for the city. This incremental ‘development’ is well documented for the Savda Ghevra ‘transit camp’ of Delhi by CURE (Center for Urban and Regional Excellence). They describe how it takes a family over five years to create a home beginning with a Rs 1,500 shack and finally investing over Rs 2 lakhs in a pucca house. The Lok Shakti Manch in the Bhalaswa ‘resettlement colony’ has gone a step further to assess the investment by a household at Rs 12 lakhs over the 20 years that span the move from slum to resettlement.

Between improvement and clearance

Slum work. Credit: streetwrk.com/Flickr CC BY-ND 2.0

Slum work. Credit: streetwrk.com/Flickr CC BY-ND 2.0

This impulse for ‘development’ and ‘redevelopment’ comes from the Slum Areas (Improvement and Clearance) Act, enacted in 1956, with a binary vision of a ‘slum’.

On one hand are the physical criteria for defining it as a habitable space needing improvement; on the other are the moral values that dictate whether it should be cleared or not. The parameters of improvement are what services can be provided by the urban local body at reasonable cost to itself. Clearance, though, is dictated by how many dwellers can meet the costs of eligibility and translocation, while the urban local body or land owner assesses how much return the vacated land will give. Thus, the choice is based on an economic assessment of a ‘slum’, not the rights of the slum-dweller.

Supposing, however, we apply the same criteria for other habitats. If in any habitation water were to flood the streets and enter homes; garbage pile up outside; there be frequent power cuts; vehicles jostle for every bit of free space; and behind closed doors, domestic violence and rape play out in their routine patriarchal way: would these be adequate to classify the settlement as a ‘slum’ on grounds of being unfit for human habitation? Would these homes accept the advance of bulldozers and police quietly or demand better amenities from the state? And would the state be justified in not investing in the welfare of residents merely because of the value of the land?

Shifting national priorities

In the first three Five Year Plans, the welfare state provided low-cost housing with a clear emphasis on improvement of slums. In the next three Plans the goalposts slowly shifted and moved towards large scale clearance. The transformation was even more rapid from Plan VII onwards, when the housing market was opened to the private sector and public expenditure reduced. The last three Plans (2002-2017) have truly changed our imagination of the ‘world class’ city, as an ‘engine’ of economic growth, and a centre for foreign investment. Shelter, services, and jobs have all been subsumed by market forces that drive the ‘engine’ towards ever greater profits. The new Smart City design of “achhe din” has shifted the focus of power from democratic structures such as the legislature to corporate headquarters and special purpose vehicles.

It is not as if other imaginations are not possible. They are. If the 40 lakh crore invested in renewing 65 JNNURM cities and 100 Smart Cities were used instead to promote employment, that could have created 40 crore livelihoods – more than three times the working population in all 5,480 towns. But when ‘growth’ has to be investor-friendly, when the working poor have to wait for 65 years for the benefits of growth to ‘trickle down’, then the fact that they contribute at least half the GDP is also rendered invisible. Nevertheless, the engine of work survives in the slum. For those of the middle class who still care to go ‘slumming’, a whole range of livelihoods will be on display. Bangles, kites, clothes, brooms, plastics, vegetables, fruits, milk, cables, cars, leather, mobiles: what we wear, what we use, what we eat, what we drink, what we throw away – it all passes through the dexterous hands of people struggling to make ends meet.

The people of the slums transform the land, they transform our products, they transform our lives – can we but imagine what they would transform if they were to have a say in democratic governance? If we discard the values we take for granted and see the slum for what it really is, the choice of whether to improve or clear is not really for us to make.

Dunu Roy is Senior Fellow at the Centre for Public Affairs and Critical Theory, Shiv Nadar University