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Top: Women and children working in a stone quarry
Bottom: A meeting of Santhal village headmen in Mallarpur |
Two weeks ago, I received an e-mail with a request to sign a petition of protest against the grievous assault on the members of Uthnau, a non-governmental organization, which has been working for nearly two decades to mobilize the Santhal community against stone quarries and crushers in Birbhum’s Mohammedbazar and Rampurhat blocks. I got in touch with Kunal Deb, Uthnau’s secretary, and over the next few days I was able to piece together the story of how a tribal community rebelled against the nexus of quarry-owners and a corrupt administration to halt, temporarily, the disastrous impact of mining on local health and ecology.
What is commendable about this movement is the fact that it has remained non-violent, democratic and inclusive since its inception. The Birbhum Adivasi Gaonta, a rights platform that was founded in 2009 with the help of Uthnau’s expertise, achieved considerable success in mobilizing the tribal community in Birbhum and even in neighbouring Jharkhand, forcing the nation’s attention to the horrors perpetrated by the quarries. Admirably, the Gaonta, even in the face of extreme provocation from its opponents, resisted the idea of an armed struggle.
The Gaonta’s democratic structure was yet another novelty. Bereft of a hierarchical structure, its decisions were collective and it remained accountable to the adivasi community. It also enlisted the support of institutions such as the local bureaucracy and the media in its negotiations with quarry-owners. Such an inclusive strategy proved to be pivotal to the success of the campaign. In two meetings held in July-August 2010, between members of the Gaonta and a representative body of quarry-owners of the Shalbadra belt under the Masra panchayat, it was decided that the stone crushing units — the 10th District Planning Report has put the number of quarries and stone-crushing units at 75 and 450, respectively, but according to unofficial estimates there are 105 quarries — will be allowed to function if they met a stringent list of 22 conditions. These include measures to safeguard workers’ rights (a 20 per cent raise in salaries and the provision of insurance, identity cards and protective gear), their health (the quarries were directed to cut harmful emissions by 90 per cent), and the fragile environment (quarry-owners would have to ensure that the dust did not contaminate local water bodies and agricultural fields).
The community’s participation in the movement was facilitated not only by the Gaonta’s effective mobilization strategy but also by the ecological and social depredations by the quarries. The findings of a survey undertaken by the Loknadi Resource Centre in 2009 across 132 Santhal villages in such blocks as Mohammedbazar, Rampurhat I, Nalhati I and II and Murari found, among other things, that nearly 3,500 acres of agricultural land vested to landless tribals had been illegally distributed among quarry-owners. (The purchase of tribal land is illegal.) Ground water levels had dropped by 5 feet on an average. The average infant mortality rate had risen by 12 per cent while the death rate among adults had increased by 38 per cent. Of the Santhals afflicted with respiratory disorders such as the fatal pneumoconiosis, nearly 58 per cent men and women had been employed in the quarries for over 20 years.
But my visit to the quarry belts of Shalbadra, Panchami and Talbandh near Mallarpur was not aimed at documenting the early success of this community movement. I attended a meeting of the Bharat Jakat Manjhimandwa, an organization comprising Santhal village headmen, as well as a gathering of quarry-labourers hailing from the villages of Jethia, Nimpahari and Palasmani, in order to analyse the factors responsible for dividing, and thus weakening, people’s resistance movements such as this one. Much of the Gaonta’s previous success can be attributed to the facelessness of its leadership, which, in keeping with the modalities of tribal society, remained collective and not individualistic. The opponents, unnerved by the fluid, non-hierarchical structure of the leadership, have now struck back by creating a class of allegedly corrupt leaders within the movement. The creation of this new leadership has jeopardized the movement in two ways. First, it has violated the basic philosophical premise of the Gaonta as a concept which was supposed to remain communitarian by nature. This has compromised the decision-making process, which has now turned arbitrary and unilateral. The village headmen and the quarry-workers cited numerous instances of Rabin Soren — the face of this new leadership — and his henchmen terrorizing and ostracizing members of the Gaonta who had dared to oppose his decisions. Second, this new class of leaders has also succeeded in exploiting the community’s anxieties surrounding ethnicity to drive a wedge between facilitating agencies such as Uthnau and a section of the people. There is a keen contest unfolding over the appropriation of the achievements of the Gaonta. The counter-narratives that have been cleverly introduced to belittle Uthnau’s accomplishments have confused the community further. Soren, who had no difficulty in talking to me despite an FIR against him for his alleged role in assaulting Uthnau’s members, reminded me that he was now a sampadak, or secretary, and that the Gaonta had never been conceived as a non-hierarchical platform. He also blamed “rivals outside the community” for the misappropriation of the Gaonta’s funds. Incidentally, Najer Hussain Mullik, a Muslim quarry-owner I had spoken to earlier, while dismissing the charges of purchasing Gaonta’s leaders, had accused its leadership of amassing a fortune by forcefully collecting money from the quarries that remain operational. Lastly, Soren asserted that he had involved himself with the movement against quarries not as a member of Uthnau — which, reportedly, trained Soren and many other young men and women during its mobilization campaign — but on account of his tribal identity and affiliation.
Uthnau and its supporters within a much-maligned and hence weakened Gaonta have been worried about the inner schism. Its initial success notwithstanding, it is important to address Uthnau’s inability to anticipate and mend the faultlines within adivasi community organizations such as the Gaonta so that resistance movements against quarries and mining elsewhere in India — Pammal in Tamil Nadu and Kodagu, Karwar, and Ankola in Karnataka, to name a few — can learn valuable lessons. Uthnau’s experience of losing valuable ground points to the fact that it is essential not to undermine the possibility of sites of conflict quickly transforming themselves into sites of contest between competing stakeholders. Soren’s intriguing metamorphosis from one of Uthnau’s most valued workers into its potential nemesis underlines the perverse attraction of the high stakes — money, power and authoritarian control over a community — even for the most dedicated ideologue. Significantly, in the present context, each competing stakeholder seems to be trying to shore up the support of State institutions — the media included — to strengthen the respective campaigns. A few days after my visit, I came across Soren’s response to the petition that had been published in a vernacular newspaper. The hold of institutions — the media, the bureaucracy and the judiciary — on the imagination of these contesting groups makes it imperative for such agencies to remain neutral but involved with these campaigns for the sake of delivering justice to exploited and marginalized communities.
The other delicate issue facing Uthnau at present concerns strategy. One of the redeeming features of Uthnau was the decision to restrict its role to that of a facilitator and resource provider in the context of the adivasi movement. Uthnau was not keen to take up the reins of leadership because of its firm belief that meaningful emancipation has to come from within a community. But in hindsight, it does appear that the lobbies that continue to oppose the movement have skilfully manipulated the absence of the kind of dedicated and resourceful leadership that can be provided by Uthnau. This opens up a rather complex line of enquiry. Does the idea of granting autonomy for the sake of self-emancipation to pristine communities involved in critical struggles suffer from limitations that remain unexplored?
Hearteningly, in the meeting at Mallarpur, Uthnau and the village elders decided to work out a new strategy. There is now a possibility of the Gaonta being dismantled and the majhiharams — elderly and experienced village chieftains — actively mobilizing the community and monitoring the direction of the struggle. Such a strategy does have its own merits. It will lend the movement’s leadership a distinct identity, one that remains consistent with the people’s ethnic roots. Unlike the younger lot, the majhiharams, with a far superior knowledge of Santhal customs and traditions, would also offer a better line of protection against vices such as corruption. Moreover, the democratic edifice of the movement would remain intact — the community would continue to take decisions collectively and the majhiharams would ensure that demands such as those of greater transparency are met. Perhaps such a move would benefit from Uthnau continuing its campaign on ways to improve the community’s access to health, education, employment and labour rights. There is also an urgent need to document Santhal oral traditions to create a codified system of law in the local language. For a people with little knowledge of and trust in the laws that guide the State, such an indigenous legal system would not only help restore the community’s sense of dignity but also ensure the speedy dispensation of justice.
As we sat and discussed the movement’s future, I was apprised of new, disturbing developments. Taking advantage of the divisions within the movement, 13 quarries have started operations in the Panchami-Talbandh belt. A quarry-owner, on hearing of the presence of a journalist in the gathering, was apparently making arrangements to invite the local press to disseminate contrary views. Soren and his followers were also mobilizing opinion by holding meetings in other areas. It is evident that Uthnau’s opponents are as resourceful and committed to jeopardizing the people’s movement against quarries further. The battle lines are being redrawn. The majhiharams, aged but resolute, know that this is one war that the community cannot afford to lose.
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