As Naxalism Fades, Adivasi Futures Still Stand on Precarious Ground

As the Maoist insurgency reaches its fag end with the encounter killings, surrenders and arrests of top Maoist leaders, it is useful to review the six-decade journey of the insurgency and the promise the Indian state now offers following its entry into adivasi lands once controlled by the guerrilla fighters.

Soon after their eruption in the late 1960s, the Naxals captured both the popular and the artistic-intellectual imagination. In a constitutional democracy, weapons can only be wielded by a lawful authority and any violent insurrection can’t be legitimised by any stretch of argument. But the disillusionment with the Indian state following ‘the false dawn’ of azadi made the violent path if not always credible or convincing, at least appealing or noteworthy to many.

Their popular support waned over the decades, but after the rebels made the mineral-rich adivasi land of Dandakaranya their headquarters in the 1980s, their operations evoked two broad opinions. One, that their presence has empowered adivasis, made them aware of their rights and kept private companies at bay. Two, that they handed over rifles to adivasis, deployed them as unsuspecting foot-soldiers in their war against the state, and damaged their lives.

The debate is still on, but the focus now should be on the post-Naxal Dandakaranya, a forested zone of over 85,000 sq km spreading across Chhattisgarh, Maharashtra, Odisha and Telangana. Nearly half of it is solely in Bastar, which, at over 39,000 sq km, commands an area bigger that of Kerala.

Rightly so, Bastar is called the lungs of India.

Over a decade ago, a young IAS officer deployed in Bastar told this reporter that as much as they wanted Bastar to be freed from the Naxals, their ouster from the jungle would immediately lead to it being taken over by mining companies.

The jungle is a self-sustained ecosystem – for food, fodder and water. For rituals, traditions and culture. For numerous adivasis who joined the Naxal ranks in Dandakaranya since the early 1990s, the goal was not a Red Flag at the Red Fort. It was an existential struggle to save their jal, jungle and zameen – water, forests and land. The Bastar adivasi knew nothing about Marx or Mao; it was a fight to save her backyard.

“I protest mining in my area. You open a police camp and deploy force outside my home. What do I do?” A young guerrilla from Kanker named Naresh once told this reporter.

Jaylal’s story was no different. At 22, he was the leader of a local guerrilla squad when I met him over a decade ago. The diminutive man carried a rifle that always slipped off his narrow frame. He was still in school when protests began against Tata’s proposed steel plant in Bastar. The result: Among several others from his village he joined the Naxal movement.

The argument about industry bringing prosperity to the region is erroneous. First, a minimum qualification is imperative for a meaningful participation in industrial activity. In its absence, the local community is reduced to contractual and menial jobs, with all the middle and top-level positions being occupied by outsiders, further leading to local resentment.

The unjust trickle-down mode isn’t for the adivasi life.

Exhibit A: NMDC’s famed plant in Dantewada. Operational since the 1960s, it has been mining iron ore in millions of tonnes. Barely any local adivasi has crossed unskilled daily wagers or blue-collar occupations.

Exhibit B: The most preferred job Chhattisgarh has for the adivasis is in police barracks. From Salwaa Judum to Bastar Tiger Force, the strategy is clear – hand assault rifles to young boys and send them on the front against their Naxal brethren. The Naxal surrender policy mandates monetary compensation and rehabilitation through vocational training. The compensation rarely arrives in full, and in the name of a new employment, the government inducts them into the police force, gives them a new set of weapons and sends them back to the jungle.

Precisely therefore, the screaming headlines about ‘The End of the Red Corridor’ don’t address the crisis the jungle is in. If one constitutional obligation was to regain sovereignty over the land, the bigger duty is to address the severe trust deficit the state has with the adivasis.

How has the state fared after the ouster of Naxals from the forested land? Has it made the adivasis the rightful stakeholder in the reimagination of the zone? Has it made them equal participants in any industry that arrives on their land? Sadly, no.

The Wire Hindi recently reported (here and here) on how soon after the state regained control of Abujhmad forest in Gadchiroli, the Devendra Fadnavis government, despite protests and bypassing various laws and gram sabhas, handed over the resource-rich adivasi land in Gadchiroli to a single company, Lloyds Steel.

The prophecy of the young IAS officer a decade ago has come true.

It’s this bad faith that our headlines need to focus on. The Naxals might soon be history. But can the adivasi have a dignified future?

This piece was first published on The India Cable – a premium newsletter from The Wire – and has been updated and republished here. To subscribe to The India Cable, click here.

The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.