What Past Responses to Health Crises Teach us About Indian Cities

The current crisis may very well lead to an impetus to formulate a new urban strategy that is tailored to serve and protect different social groups.

Indian cities have been going through major convulsions, particularly after the gradual lifting of the lockdown since early May.

Cities (especially Mumbai, Delhi, and Chennai among metros, but also, Ahmedabad, Hyderabad, Pune and Bengaluru) have borne the brunt of the disease, but it has also spread to the countryside mainly through the tragic phenomenon of ‘reverse’ migration.

On the national scale, it started in globalised spaces like big cities, western and southern India and has now spread to eastern and northern India, and the countryside. A disproportionate share of the pandemic-induced distress has fallen on the working poor and marginalised castes, but more affluent groups and privileged castes have not been spared by the pandemic in its still-early stages.

So far, the focus in India has been on addressing the immediate crisis: through social-distancing measures, emergency hospital care, and limited amounts of testing and contact-tracing. These short-term concerns should be thought alongside more medium and long-term concerns in order to design effective policies moving forward. We focus on the latter in this piece, by analysing the impact on Bombay of two major pandemics of the past: bubonic plague (1896-1940) and influenza (more popularly, ‘Spanish’ flu, 1918-20).

As is well known, pandemics generate health and economic crises. A severe pandemic sets the template for future responses, e.g. measures like quarantining and marking affected homes, employed today, were used to counter bubonic plague. In fact, the word quarantine is derived from the Italian term for 40 days, the isolation period for ships thought to be affected, during the plague-ravaged Middle Ages.

Also read: Conspiracy Theories, Evading Quarantine: The Bombay Plague Bore Witness to It All

An underappreciated fact is that pandemics and major diseases have influences beyond health and economy.  In Western countries, tuberculosis has been linked to how modernist architecture (functional, minimal and without ornament) became rooted especially in residential housing and sanatoria. As we illustrate from the case of Bombay below, pandemics have led to the restructuring of city spaces and unleashed political forces, even providing an impetus for the nationalist movement. 

Bubonic plague was first detected in India in September 1896 in Bombay. It spread to other parts of the country and resulted in about ten million (a crore) deaths over the next four to five decades. It left several important legacies for Bombay. First, it led to the complete restructuring of the city space of Bombay.

Migrant workers from Lucknow walk along Mumbai-Nashik highway to reach their native places, during a nationwide lockdown in the wake of coronavirus, in Thane, Wednesday, April 29, 2020. Photo: PTI/Mitesh Bhuvad

The three main factors that were held responsible for the spread of plague in Bombay were: population density, poor sanitation, and poverty. The British government created a new public institution called the Bombay City Improvement Trust (BCIT). BCIT, in concert with Bombay Port Trust, municipal corporation of Bombay, and to a lesser extent Back Bay Reclamation Trust, restructured the city in response.

From the works of scholars (Mariam Dossal, Rahul Mehrotra and Sharada Dwivedi), we learn that the southern part of Bombay island was extensively reshaped, and a significant part of the present South/downtown Bombay was constructed during the period 1898-1925.

The city expanded northwards through the construction of various suburbs. Public transport services like trains and tramways were extended and new roads were laid to improve connectivity within the expanded city. Notably, the issue of housing was addressed, in the process segregating the rich from the poor (apart from other axes like European versus native, and religion).

Second, the containment policies of the British government were seen as highly intrusive and insensitive to existing social norms (e.g. related to gender and caste). This resulted in a series of protests, aided by rumours and panic, some turning violent. The fear of the pandemic and British policies led to a large-scale fleeing (mainly of migrants) from the city.

Also read: How the Bombay Plague of 1896 Played Out

In the first three to four years of the plague, the city was reduced to about half of its pre-1896 population on account of out-migration and death. However, the Indian countryside was in the grip of a famine and did not provide a safe haven.

Third, as historian Myron Echenberg has argued, the plague gave a major impetus to the nationalist struggle. Tilak and Gokhale emerged into leadership positions in the early nationalist battles against the British. Essentially, in the spatial, economic and political spheres, the bubonic plague left an indelible impact on the city of Bombay.

Migrant workers wait to board buses to the Borivali Railway Station, Mumbai, May 21, 2020. Photo: PTI

In contrast, the Spanish flu, by far the deadliest pandemic of the modern era with a horrific mortality of about 15-20 million for India and 50 million globally, left a meagre long-run imprint on Bombay and other Indian cities. The reasons are many. The historian David Arnold argues that unlike the plague, Spanish flu, although it seriously affected city dwellers, also spread rapidly to the countryside and tribal regions from cities decimating vast populations of the relatively young people (age range, 20-40) and women more than men.

This pandemic disappeared around 1920. Given their past experience, the British were apprehensive about implementing policies that could be perceived as hostile. While they did publish pamphlets, advocated social distancing and such measures, they did not resort to deep interventions. Part of the reason is that bubonic plague came with a lot of historical baggage of outbreaks in medieval Europe, whereas influenza did not.

Also, bubonic plague of the 1890s, while it came most likely from Hong Kong, took deep root in India, began to be seen as an ‘Indian’ disease, and the British felt compelled to take it head on. They invited the cholera expert, Waldemar Haffkine, who was already in Calcutta, to develop a vaccine for bubonic plague. On the contrary, the Spanish flu was of Western origin and the British felt that its epidemiological aspects had to be settled in the US and European countries. Even in terms of popular lore, plague had come to be known as Mumbai-mai, in the Indian tradition of naming contagious epidemics after mother goddesses, whereas Spanish Flu did not get similarly christened.

Also read: How Our Cities Turned the National COVID-19 Crisis From Bad to Worse

What are the effects of COVID-19 so far on India? The pandemic has already brought to fore stark inequalities prevailing in Indian cities and the countryside. Both in health and economic terms, the wealthy and middle-classes of the country have been able to cope better thus far.

The crisis has exposed the precarious state of rural-urban migrants, urban poor and landless rural workers. In terms of differential effects on castes, it has adversely affected the Dalit, Adivasi and OBC communities that are over-represented among the migrants even though there might have been a temporary erasure of caste hierarchies among returning migrants themselves in the wake of common adversity.

Representative image showing houses in Mumbai. Photo: Pti

The pandemic has also seen a massive increase in household reproductive labor, the burden of which falls mainly on women. In cities, lack of proper housing, health care, employment/basic safety-net and basic amenities (e.g. clean water) are the main reasons for the vulnerability of the poor. Of course, chronic-poverty and associated malnutrition weaken immunity. Without addressing these problems, it is impossible to implement measures like social distancing. Severe lockdowns alone will not be able to effectively counter any future outbreaks of the current pandemic or future ones.

What can we learn about post-coronavirus restructuring of cities, from the experiences of previous pandemics? The idea is not to abandon cities, which come with distinct advantages like agglomeration economies, cosmopolitanism, lower per-capita carbon emissions, and intense cultural experimentation. The experience of Spanish flu is that of a cautionary tale. Indian cities could simply march on without making any deep structural changes. This would be a case of a lesson not learnt even after an opportunity presents itself.

On the other hand, the experience of bubonic plague is what is more pertinent at this juncture given the extent of adversity that COVID-19 has already created, and might continue to do so until a durable solution is found. In terms of restructuring city spaces, as we discussed above, there was an outward expansion of Bombay city into suburban areas in the wake of the plague. Urban sprawl may increase as a result of COVID-19 too.

Also read: After the Lockdown Lifts, We Need to Make Cities Liveable for Migrants

Commuting from peri-urban areas (instead of migration), may get a fillip, although this needs infrastructural improvements. Affluent households may wish to reduce their dependence on informal workers through processes of mechanisation (e.g. robotic cleaning) that could also heighten spatial segregation along class lines. BCIT ended up creating a class-segregated city by the 1920s. Bombay became even more segregated after the onset of neoliberal economic reforms in the early nineties. Religion-based segregation has also increased due to housing discrimination and communal violence. These spatial changes may actually diminish the inherent advantages of city life.

Our work on Hyderabad and Mumbai demonstrates the adverse effects of such segregation and spatial changes. We find that mixed neighbourhoods (in terms of class or caste or religion), even when they are unequal, tend to produce much better development outcomes like lower poverty and higher educational attainment. These outcomes and better health are linked through a virtuous cycle. It is therefore important to avoid creating sprawling, segregated cities.

We could imagine much better cities in response to COVID-19.

In terms of working poor, bubonic plague teaches us a particular lesson. Those fleeing Bombay in the 19th century were caught between famine (for which the British were responsible) in the countryside and disease in the city. Today, agrarian distress and feeble welfare packages resulting from the failures of successive governments, are the counterparts to the famine.

The problems of housing, sanitation and lack of decent and safe work that became glaring in fin-de-siècle Bombay are equally stark in Indian cities now. Migrant workers are caught between these two worlds of distress. The lesson here is that rural livelihoods and welfare schemes ought to be improved, as several commentators and rural scholars have already noted.

At the same time, the urban working poor have to be given a right to the city (including democratic access to open spaces) and a strong voice in any changes that are contemplated and implemented. This cannot be done through profit-seeking private companies or by private firms that make profit at public risk (public-private partnerships) that the current government is promoting.

Health workers wearing Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) sit on a bench at a crematorium in New Delhi, India, June 24, 2020. Photo: Reuters/Anushree Fadnavis

The adverse effects of the privatisation of health care over the last 30 years is also visible in the stark choice that the current government has to make between severe lockdowns and a rapidly spreading pandemic. Public institutions are democratically accountable and would represent the interests of diverse social groups better. Like the BCIT, which was a public body, public institutions have to be created to address the public health, housing and employment/welfare related concerns of the urban poor and migrant workers, while avoiding the adverse effects mentioned above.

A hopeful insight from the plague experience is that it created political awakening and protests amidst all the gloom. In Bombay, the British responses to the plague deepened an anti-colonial, nationalist consciousness. In our context, where there is an observed tendency towards imposing a one-size-fits-all strategy for the entire populace in all domains (economic, political and cultural), the pandemic may be the juncture when opposition could emerge to this top-down imposition of ‘national’ homogeneity. This may very well lead to an impetus to formulate a new urban strategy that is tailored to serve and protect different social groups, while retaining the inherent advantages of cities.

Infectious diseases will continue to emerge and spread as a result of climate-change and globalisation. We have to dig deep into history both for inspired responses and to avoid the errors of the past. 

Vamsi Vakulabharanam and Sripad Motiram teach economics at University of Massachusetts Amherst and University of Massachusetts Boston, respectively.

After the Lockdown Lifts, We Need to Make Cities Liveable for Migrants

It is in cities that business is based, where migrants go to find livelihoods, and where the most cost-effective investments can be made.

India’s economy depends on two things – cities, and informality.

Cities produce over 70% of India’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP), and the informal sector makes up about 65% of their workforce, according to the 2017-18 Periodic Labour Force Survey. The 17 crore migrant workers in cities (Census, 2011) are also providing vital support to villages, closing the circle to create rural-urban linkages that send money and finished goods from cities to the countryside. 

When the COVID-19 crisis slows and the economy reopens, informal (unregistered) businesses that employ a large share of the migrants and drive urban GDP will have to reopen. How will they do so without a boost from the government? Migration will also have to resume. But when will it be safe for migrants to recommence their loop from the villages to the cities, and back again? 

Government action is needed on two fronts to rebuild these critical links and avoid mass impoverishment. First, addressing the needs of labour for the informal sector, and second, providing capital to revive the sector.

Also read: Will India’s Economic Recovery Be Quick? Modi Says So, But This Can’t Happen in a Vacuum

This call for action challenges received wisdom at all levels of government.

‘Local’ residents have always shown animosity towards migrants for crowding cities, while local governments have resented having to provide public services to them. Neglect of the informal sector is thus baked into governance models, notwithstanding its economic value. 

On the first front, addressing the needs of migrants is primarily a political economy problem. However, some immediate public health measures are crucial, both as a part of the solution and for dealing with the pandemic. Migrants will continue to face a higher risk from COVID-19 until city governments improve living conditions in informal urban settlements and slums, which are currently cesspools of disease. 

Cities can act quickly to improve sanitation in informal settlements by providing safe disposal of waste and a continuous supply of water for hand washing.

Some temporary efforts have already been made, but the pandemic could easily last one or two years, and more resilient and permanent solutions must be put in place. The activities required are simple – water pipes and drainage pipes need to be laid down, and in some cases, replaced.

Exterior water points with drains need to be installed at intervals, along with an increased supply and maintenance of public toilets. Sewage mains should be laid down principal paths and owners of dwellings should be allowed to connect to water and sewage mains free of charge, to encourage them to install basic facilities. 

This will require a targeted investment programme for cities. It can be designed to directly support informal sector workers, if the government can temporarily relax the byzantine (on a good day) public procurement process. Small construction firms employing informal workers can quickly be contracted to perform these tasks, and emergency powers can bypass issues that have dogged similar efforts to upgrade sanitation.    

Also read: To Rebuild the Economy, India Needs to Be Atmanirbhar in Ideas

Governments must also take dramatic action to improve the quality of housing in informal areas to invite migrants back to cities. In the COVID-19 pandemic where physical distancing and quarantine are crucial tools, housing is healthcare. It is impossible to be healthy when people are living in 48 square feet on average in a city like Mumbai, as they do in many of India’s slums.

At the very least, the government should regularise India’s tens of millions of informal housing units, making it safe for owners to invest in building improvements without fear of expropriation or demolition. While an overhaul of informal housing by clearing slums and constructing new high rises would be ideal to reduce the risk of a future pandemic, improving existing informal housing in the medium term is imperative to address this housing crisis.

With regard to the second issue – supporting the informal sector – 80% of the urban poor have lost their jobs during this crisis, and they will need new opportunities. If the government neglects the urban informal sector, where many of them work, the economy is unlikely to recover. This sector already contributes about 60% of the Net Domestic Product. And the National Commission for Enterprises data as of 2007 shows that 98% of both informal manufacturing and services enterprises had less than 10 workers but these businesses are thus too asset poor to survive without support and lack registration and documentation, making them ineligible for government support schemes. 

While formalisation is a long-term process, this is no ordinary crisis and requires swift action. The government must use emergency powers to take the unprecedented step of giving aid to unregistered businesses in the informal sector. Criteria like registration of businesses with a minimum 10 workers and a stipulated minimum investment in plant and machinery should also be relaxed, at least temporarily. Informal businesses should be allowed to register for government assistance using the Aadhaar card of the proprietor to ensure accountability. 

These measures for easier registration will allow businesses to benefit from the economic relief package for the medium, small and micro enterprises (MSMEs) guaranteed by the government of India. The cushion of collateral free loans, 100% credit guarantees, moratoriums on principal repayment and interest caps is much needed for the disregarded informal sector.

As many as 42% informal manufacturing enterprises and 64% informal services enterprises are ‘Own Account Enterprises’, with a single proprietor. These businesses are likely to run out of their homes, and evidence from formalisation programs elsewhere show that it can be challenging to extend credit to businesses of this size.

The best and probably quickest way to support these businesses would be to directly provide cash to get them back on their feet. This will keep them from visiting loan sharks and entering a debt spiral. The cash could be transferred to Jan Dhan accounts which would benefit a large share of Own Account Enterprises.    

In India, the formal and informal live next to each other in cities.

Improving conditions for the informal workers and allowing the informal sector to thrive will benefit the formal sector because of the product market linkages between them. All of these actions need to be focused on cities — where business is based, where migrants go to find livelihoods, and where the most cost-effective investments can be made.

Rather than extending one-time relief measures, introducing conditions that unlock opportunities for the vulnerable may just enable them to live better. 

Patrick Lamson-Hall is an urban planner and a research scholar at New York University Marron Institute of Urban Management. Harshita Agrawal is an associate at IDFC Institute, a Mumbai-based think tank.

Only Gender Transformative Approaches Can Bridge Water, Sanitation Inequalities

Given that women are the primary ‘users, providers, and managers’ of water and sanitation facilities, their participation in such programmes is necessary.

Worldwide women are primarily responsible for ‘care work’ which includes fetching water, cooking, cleaning, washing, and taking care of children, elderly or ill. This gendered division of labour typically purports that women and girls shoulder a series of roles in the ‘private sphere’ that, for the most part, men do not share.

According to an ILO report, in 2018, women in India spend 312 minutes every day in urban areas and 291 minutes per day in rural areas on unpaid care work. In contrast, men barely spent 29 minutes every day (in urban) and 32 minutes every day (in rural areas) on care work.

These socially allocated roles are effort-heavy but ‘invisible’, ‘unrecognised’ and ‘unpaid’. While performing these traditional social roles, women make sizeable contributions to the family economy, which is unaccounted for both within the family and as a part of our national accounts. The unpaid labour is often observed to be higher in developing countries where women compensate for the absence of or inadequate public infrastructure and services including water and sanitation services. This traditional gender role places a double burden on women and adolescent girls.

In the last five years, while there has been thrust on the creation of sanitation infrastructure, it has led to a simultaneous increase in the burden on women for Water and Sanitation (WATSAN) related activities.

Also read: Inclusion Is Key to Any Sanitation Goal India Sets

Gender-based inequalities in WATSAN roles

A study by the Centre for Policy Research in collaboration with Kalinga Institute of Rural Management, KIIT Bhubaneswar on Gender and urban sanitation in ten slums in Bhubaneswar revealed that women are disproportionately burdened by ‘care work’.

Findings revealed that in 79% households women fetch water, in 69% households women are responsible for solid waste disposal, in 68% households women clean individual household latrine (IHHL), and in 82% of households they take care of the ill.

Time burden in fetching water

Study findings also reveal that more than half of those who reported difficulty in accessing IHHL, also reported that IHHL has increased the burden of fetching water. Nearly three-fourth respondents disclosed that women and girls were responsible for fetching water. They spend close to one to two hours daily securing water for the entire household.

In Kedarpalli basti, also known as the ‘sweeper’s colony’, water access and conflict are critical concerns. While piped water connections were provided by the government nearly a year ago but, these taps have since run dry. Residents largely rely on common water connection points to collect water for household use. Inadequate supply, access and availability of water creates an insecurity amongst slum residents. It often leads to water conflicts in Kedarpalli slum. Residents revealed that the main inter-personal disturbance in the slum was based on water sharing. For instance, a woman respondent shared that:

“if I go and fill my buckets with water and the person after me in the queue does not get water, they would blame me. They would say – you will cook and eat today but, what about us?”

In fact, the burden of fetching water is a critical factor for sustained usage of IHHL and women carry this burden for the family and the community. Moreover, women perform ‘care functions’ including taking care of children and are also responsible for washing clothes at community toilets – they are often ridiculed by caretakers for taking more time, using too much water and dirtying the community toilets more than men.

Resultantly, at some community toilets they end up paying more for consuming more water. To ensure that the operation of CTs and PTs are sustainable, an adequate and equitable tariff structure should be built-in based on principles of equity and justice. The user charge can be differential and yet inclusive. It can be arrived at through a consultative process involving women, transgender, persons with disabilities, aged, and other urban poor and marginalised groups.

Also read: For Many Indians, the Right to Sanitation Is Coming at the Cost of Other Human Rights

Case for more thrust on IHHL construction

The evidence from the study strengthens the rationale for the construction of IHHL vis-à-vis community toilets (CT). Women have disclosed that during periods of heavy footfall, men enter women’s toilet wings. They have complained that male caretakers have been assigned to clean the facility, that community toilets have broken locks and doors and there is no provision for safe menstrual hygiene management (MHM).

Some 250,000 of India’s 649,481 villages have been declared open defecation free. Credit: Reuters

Representative image. Photo: Reuters

For members of the transgender community, community toilets are sites of harassment and ‘unsafe zones’ and hence, they completely avoid them. In contrast, IHHL brings security and dignity to them. Transgender revealed that after the construction of IHHL, they feel safer in accessing toilets. There is no physical or psychological threat of harassment. Given that CTs are non-operational at night, the toilets remain inaccessible to the community for at least 10 hours a day, thereby undermining the SDG goal of providing sanitation for all at all times.

Low WATSAN related decision-making power of women

Despite the increasing role of women in maintaining and providing sanitation infrastructure facilities for household usage, the study reveals that women and members of the transgender community are under-represented in the decision-making process (of planning and implementation) related to location and design of sanitation infrastructure at boththe household and community level. At the household level, while most of the ‘care wok’ is predominantly undertaken by women, their role when it comes to decision making surrounding sanitation is negligible.

Need to re-imagine WATSAN community forums for gender-transformative outcomes

Given that women are the primary ‘users, providers, and managers’ of water and sanitation facilities, their participation in the water and sanitation programmes are often deemed as necessary to increase the efficiency of the project. Resultantly, often WATSAN is perceived to be a ‘feminine function’.

On the ground, women collectives are formed. For instance, study findings reveal that basti committees in slums are male-dominated addressing broader issues of slum development including housing and other infrastructures, often seen as ‘masculine functions’ while Mahila Arogya Samiti – a women’s collective is responsible for WASH which is perceived to be a ‘feminine function’.

Also read: Budget 2020 Sets India on the Path to Meet SDG Targets for Water and Sanitation

However, these collectives based on a gendered division of ‘care roles’, rarely translates into improving women’s participation and ability to influence decisions, both at the household and community level. Their participation is usually either tokenistic or passive and rarely ever interactive or substantive. Moreover, it contributes to creating socio-cultural realities that perpetuate gender stereotypes.

Unless men’s collectives are also promoted to work on issues of water and sanitation, it is likely that the burden on women will continue to remain high. Hence, there is a need to bring about change in the structure of these forums to ensure gender-transformative outcomes both at the community and household level.

For ensuring gender transformation, it is vital to first recognise the gender-based complexities and vulnerabilities women and girls face and to develop gender-responsive strategies so that men’s and women’s group no longer work in silos. There is a need to find synergies and make concerted efforts to engage more with men and boys in WATSAN community forums. To achieve sanitation outcomes enshrined in the SDGs by 2030, it is necessary to interlink SDG 5 (Gender Equality), with SDG 6 (Water and Sanitation) and, SDG 10 (Reduced Inequalities).

Tripti Singh and Anju Dwivedi work with the Centre for Policy Research.

It’s Time to Make Conservation Labour Visible Again

What May Day narratives don’t tell us about the role of the working class in conservation.

What May Day narratives don’t tell us about the role of the working class in conservation.

A porter in the Himalayas. Credit: Kiril Rusev/Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

A porter in the Himalayas. Credit: Kiril Rusev/Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

May Day was not always International Workers’ Day. Before it became International Workers’ Day during the Second Communist International Congress in the 19th century, May Day was a traditional, temperate-region celebration of spring.

The onset of spring has conservationist connotations. Phenology, a conservation science branch that studies plant life-cycle events (like flowering and elevation) and climate influences, is closely linked to spring. In India, spring, referred to popularly as basant or vasantham, is also marked by festivities. Conservation biology texts or forest conservation debates will not mention workers and labour, neither do the entries on May Day mention conservation. Conservation science and practice has not acknowledged the foundational and facilitative roles of the working classes. Labour scholarship, policy and politics have neglected the invisible and unorganised labour involved in conservation science and official forest protection. The biologically and culturally diverse eastern Himalayas are an apt geography to locate this labour-conservation conundrum.

Mountain labour

Visual and narrative accounts of Himalayan labour are available from photographs, travelogues and descriptions of the social life of the British. In colonial narratives and visual representations of Darjeeling, for instance, the English portray themselves as an integral and indispensable part of the landscape, while local folk become the prominent ‘other’. Working classes, including indigenous Lepcha and Bhutia and migrant Nepali, served as porters for the British sahebs. They guarded forests against fires, especially the monoculture plantations of Cryptomeria, a Japanese coniferous tree.

In colonial and contemporary Darjeeling, tea workers form the dominant labour imagery. Such construction of labour misses its multifarious roles, then and now. Working classes have broken their backs not just for planters in tea gardens, but also for scientists and tourists in forests.

Consider Singalila. The ridge between Sandakphu and Phalut in Darjeeling’s Singalila National Park is a popular trekking and motor route. On a clear spring day, the views of rhododendron and magnolia flowers in full bloom, and the distant sight of Mount Everest and Kanchenjunga are breathtaking (breathtaking also literally – at 3,500 msl, even the slightest exercise will leave you short of breath). The altitude, combined with the steep and undulating terrain, means that people visiting require the services of porters and local working-class people. Singalila’s subalpine and temperate elevations, and its diverse flora and fauna, attracted both colonial natural historians and today’s conservation biologists. Tourists also visit Singalila in large numbers, whether trekkers, photographers or amateur ornithologists. Both the scientist and the tourist need the services of full-time porters for transporting luggage, ranging from scientific paraphernalia, food and water, camera lenses, tents and the like.

A 2015 field visit to Gorkhey, a pretty hamlet bordering Sikkim, which is usually the initiation or culmination point of the Singalila trek, is a revelation. Post fieldwork, we hired Chao, a poor 50-something porter. He carried almost 30 kg of team luggage in a large bamboo basket for about 33 km through rough terrain, from Gorkhey to our destination point. Collecting a paltry sum of around Rs 2,000, he quickly ran back as we watched exhausted. Usually from marginalised classes and castes, porters like Chao in Singalila suffer due to the lack of resting and staying facilities. Caste and class relations, when combined with non-existent labour protection and the seasonal nature of tourism-related employment, pose material issues as well as larger quandaries relating to freedom and choice for porters.

Sensitive tourists, including conservationists, trekkers or photographers, will remember people like Chao. But porters whose labour was crucial for colonial natural history are a faceless detail, like the ‘local assistants’ of J.D Hooker, known to be Charles Darwin’s close friend and one of the greatest Himalayan botanists. Between 1848 and 1850, Hooker is said to have undertaken botanical treks to Singalila, Sikkim and Bhutan. His Himalayan Journals and Flora of British India are standard books and backpacking companions for conservation biologists today. Many a species were named after him. But plants have never borne a porter’s name.

Mutual indifference

Darjeeling’s labouring classes, including forest porters, LPG cylinder carriers and tourist luggage porters in Darjeeling town, constitute an unorganised labour force. Porters in Himalayan forests and towns are mostly not unionised and not covered by labour laws. While labour policy debates around unorganised labour concentrate on the domestic seasonal migration of workers, the seasonal nature of work for forest and urban porters in India’s mountains remain uncared for. The NDA government proposes to reduce nearly 100 ‘archaic’ labour laws in four codes of wages, industrial relations, social security and welfare, and safety and working conditions. Labour unions and scholars have protested these business- and investor-friendly reforms. But the well being of mountain porters and other forest protection ‘subordinates’ will neither figure in the state’s labour codes nor in the agitations and institutional negotiations of unions.

Compared to farm, fishery and factory work, Himalayan porterage is rarely the subject of labour scholarship. For that matter, the forest protection and conservation labour of Adivasis and Dalits in the rest of India rarely occupies the labour scholar’s interest as does farm and factory labour. Consider the International Labor and Working Class History Journal or the Economic and Political Weekly, two journals whose pages otherwise include the best of labour scholarship. Historical and contemporary Himalayan porterage is not discussed. There are no dedicated and exclusive research papers on Adivasi and Dalit labour in both conservation science and official forest protection in India. The rare EPW research paper on subordinate forest personnel will never use the concepts of labour studies.

Conservation, now an interdisciplinary field involving ecology and social sciences, has also failed to explicitly engage with the fact that the working classes sell physical effort and services to eco-tourists, conservation biologists and the forest department in and around India’s national parks. Adivasi and Dalit limbs in the Himalayas and Western Ghats have since the colonial times remained crucial to forestry operations, whether as fire watchers, guides or mahouts. For conservation science operations, they have worked as field station drivers, graduate student forest ‘guides’, scientific equipment carriers and ecological ‘plot’ and ‘transect’ layers and monitors.

Political ecology, a genre that investigates power relations in conservation, has paid some attention to whether the labour of dispossessed indigenes is useful in eco-tourism or climate change mitigation in national parks. But generally, conservation discourse obfuscates labour and working class realities by engaging with local community under the routine rubric of ‘traditional knowledge’. Further obfuscation of labour occurs under the rubric of ecosystems services. Forests are to service humans by provisioning fuel and fodder, regulating floods and disease, and culturally servicing them with aesthetic and recreational opportunities. But concealed is the role of labour in converting water, soil, fuel wood and landscapes into ostensible services. For instance, Gorkhey’s ‘manicured’ appearance – a medley of streams, terraced farms, pine forests and home stays – involves the physical exertions of Sherpa and Kirati families.

This May Day, let us hope that conservation and recreation labour is afforded the policy and intellectual coverage it deserves.

Siddhartha Krishnan and Rinzi Lama are sociologists with ATREE, Bengaluru.