From the highway the
gravestones were visible. Thirteen headstones, rough and blunt, carved
with names of each dead tribal. Each stone was placed so that together
they formed a semi-circle looking down at us. In front of the 13-stone
platform was a fenced area with scattered burnt sticks lying as if for
the picking. I realized I was looking at a cremation ground. I also
realized in shock that this must have been the place where the tribals
killed in police firing were consecrated to fire and that the place has
been left intact as a grim reminder. Waiting as if for some relief or
resolution.
We were in the village of Gobarghati, where the Kalinganagar firing
happened. A village a few hours' drive from Bhubaneswar. A typical
tribal village, thatched huts, surrounded by bamboo groves placed in
the midst of paddy fields. But behind the hush we could feel the
tension. Two years ago, protests against the takeover of village land
for the Tata steel plant had led to an armed skirmish. The village is
part of an industrial estate for which the state government had
acquired land some years ago. In 2006, when the company started
building its boundary wall the fight broke out. After the firing,
villagers blockaded the national highway for well over a year. It was
lifted when the chief minister finally met the village representatives
and gave some ‘assurances’. But nothing has changed on the ground.
The villagers we met were angry and resolute. They said they would not
give up their land. When asked if they would agree if they were paid
higher compensation, they simply said no. “We are poor, but our land
gives us enough for us to survive. If we do not have this, what will we
do?” When we asked if they would agree if the company provided jobs,
their answer was equally straightforward. “We have seen the factories
that have come up around us, we have seen that they had promised our
people jobs when they took away our land. But our people have no jobs
and no land. The factories say they cannot employ us because we are not
educated, they say they do not need so many people. Why should we
believe them now?”
We were left with questions. We had no answers.
We then visited the rehabilitation colony set up to relocate villagers
whose land had been acquired. Company officials said they were planning
to give employment to a nominated family member. This would need skill
development or education. They were beginning to train villagers in
welding and other trades. In addition, the government had also agreed
to raise cash compensation from Rs 14,000 per hectare (ha) to Rs 40,000
per ha; a 400 sq-m plot and Rs 1.5 lakh as aid to build a house. Within
the family each adult son would be considered separate, which would
mean benefits would multiply. A good deal is how company officials saw
it.
We asked young men in the colony, why they had moved. “Because we had
no land and we were given jobs.” But they also said, with obvious pain
in their eyes, that since then they could not enter their village. They
had been ostracized. Clearly, there was anger and however good the
deal, there was resistance.
The question was why? Was it just the cussedness of few individuals; or
the vested interests of competitors fuelling the unrest; or were the
simple villagers we met Naxalites fighting an ideological war against
the state and industry? The why question was even more incomprehensible
if you thought that the people fighting change were poor—they lived in
mud and thatched huts, which would be exchanged for brick houses; they
were subject to the vagaries of rainfall, and crop failure, which they
would give up for cash compensation. The agricultural fields for us,
from the outside, certainly looked impoverished. In our eyes, the
future looked only brighter.
But this is where we must understand differently. In Gobarghati, I
could not see Naxalites or misguided people. All I could see were
people fighting for all they have in full knowledge that their poverty
is only going to be exchanged for greater deprivation and
marginalization. They know they do not have the skills to succeed in
the new world. They also know, after bitter experience, that the
industrial world does not need many people to work its enterprises. It
needs their land, water, minerals, but not their labour. Even if they
get the promised homes, compensation for land, they won’t have work.
Their land is marginal, they are poor but they survive.
Not far away, villagers who face displacement by the Korean giant
Posco's steel plant have also set new terms. They want higher
compensation for agricultural and homestead land; employment for every
adult in this and future generations; houses and amenities; Rs 1,000 as
monthly allowance for people too old to get a job and a share of
profits. This, we must understand, is not greed, but the value the poor
put to their land. We must also understand that modern industry cannot
compete with agriculture in terms of livelihood security.
If we accept this maybe we will look for answers differently. It is
clear that industry will need land, the question is at what cost and
how much. Industry is greedy for land. Tata will get 1,000 ha for their
steel plant. Their neighbour, Neelanchal Steel, has got a slice, too,
where it has planted trees—a ‘green’ steel mill built on poor people's
land.
The question is why Indian industry cannot be far more frugal in its
demand for land as indeed it must be with its need for water? Why
should industry not negotiate and pay the price people want for their
land. In this case, it will also look for less valuable, less
cultivable land. Most importantly how can market-believers justify the
use of the land acquisition act, which allows government to takeover
any land, without questions asked, for so-called public purpose. This
is cheap and dirty industrialization. It will not work.
http://www.downtoearth.org.in/editor.asp?foldername=20080131&filename=Editor&sec_id=2&sid=1
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