Development or force: No unanimity on solution

Exactly nine years before the CRPF constable Rakeshwar Singh Manhas found himself in the Naxal captivity in Bastar last week, the rebels had abducted the then Sukma collector Alex Paul Menon in April 2012. One of those days a young Naxal approached Menon with a humble request: ‘Sahab, handpump mechanic ka aavedan kiya hai. Bahar jakar jara dekh lijiyega (Sir, I applied for a handpump mechanic’s job. Please look into it after you are released.)’ The guerrilla, a Gond tribal tasked with guarding Menon, in a vulnerable moment, revealed the fragile nature of his existence to his hostage. His appeal also exposed the faultlines of the Maoist insurgency in Chhattisgarh.

There has been a running debate about the methods to check the longest running insurgency of independent India that is now in its sixth decade. Some view it as a law and order situation and advocate an absolute military approach, whereas some see an entrenched socio-economic reality and argue for development projects. Various state governments have adopted a mixed approach, and yet while the insurgency has declined in several other parts of the country, Chhattisgarh continues to be the Naxal capital.

There are several reasons. First, the claim that development can end the insurgency overlooks that the Naxal movement is rooted in an ideology that rejects parliamentary democracy and believes in an armed revolution to bring about social change. Socio-economic development can weaken the argument of the rebels, but given the sharp inequality in India, particularly in the adivasi land of Bastar, the appeal of the ideology may not easily vanish. Another reason is the absence of a civil society in Chhattisgarh.

A vibrant civil society, as evidenced in the experience of Andhra Pradesh, creates a buffer zone between the insurgents and the state, raising questions, forcing both sides to introspect, cede hardened positions and come to the negotiating table. Few lawyers, teachers, journalists or writers in Chhattisgarh have challenged the state’s or the insurgents’ narrative. Student movements, which can be so crucial to making ground for peace, have been absent in Chhattisgarh. Most of the people who studied Bastar and its insurgency are from outside the state, making it easier for the government to dismiss them.

Third, the absence of a vibrant adivasi politics in Chhattisgarh and political vacuum in Bastar has enabled the Naxals to tap the adivasi discontent. Compare Chhattisgarh with Jharkhand, another adivasi region that the Naxals wanted to convert into their ‘base area’. The highly politicised society of Jharkhand eventually caused the Maoist movement to fizzle out. The political and administrative vacuum across several thousands of square kilometres in Bastar offered an easy laboratory for the Maoists. In north-west Jharkhand, the government remained absent for years, remote areas had no electricity, but politicians were aplenty. People had an easy window for grievance redressal – a politician next-door who would do anything to retain his voters and would never want them to approach a banned outfit. When social angst finds a vent in the political space and politicians tour their constituencies to secure voters, space for an armed struggle fades away.

Fourth, the movement in Bastar is led by educated Telugu comrades who are deeply committed to the revolutionary ideology and are fighting what they believe is the greatest battle of their lives. Such is their commitment that surrendered Naxals usually speak foul about their former comrades, the Telugu leaders continue to praise the movement even after their surrender. Lanka Papi Reddy, the Central Committee member of the CPI (Maoist), is the senior-most cadre to have ever surrendered. Speaking to me in 2014 at his Warangal home, Reddy wistfully remembered his guerrilla days: ‘I was living a better life inside. I was fighting for a just society.” An army that has such leaders may not drop its weapons soon.

On top of it is the state’s insistence on militarisation that has destroyed Bastar and pushed the adivasi to the brink. True, several human development indicators of Bastar have considerably improved in the last decade. For instance, last year, the state health department ran an extensive anti-malaria campaign in all the seven districts of Bastar division, visited 7.8 lakh households and conducted malaria screening of nearly 24 lakh people. More schools have come up, particularly significant is a mega education cluster in Dantewada. And yet, the state’s addiction to militarisation has only intensified. The first CRPF battalion entered Bastar in 2003, by 2017 the zone had 28 paramilitary battalions, and today the number has reached around 50, besides a large number of state battalions, including ones that comprises solely of adivasis.

Deployment on the Naxal front seems to be the most preferred job the government can find for adivasis. Chhattisgarh has also disregarded its legal guarantees towards the surrendered Naxals to rehabilitate them in peaceful jobs, as it has recruited over 90% of the surrendered cadres in the police, given them a fresh set of weapons and sent to the battlefield against their former comrades. Even the lover couples who leave the Naxal ranks in order to raise a home are deployed on the Naxal front.

This militarisation converts the adivasi land into a war zone, leads to fake encounters and false cases, and eventually enables the Naxals to induct the suppressed adivasis into their fold. Their tribal world has been destroyed by the ongoing war, they are now prepared to be killed.

Military power might scare an opponent who dreams of a future after survival, but not those who have been invaded by a death wish. In rare moments, their vulnerabilities surface in the form of a desire for a home or a handpump. It is in these moments that one may find clues to end this war.

(Bhardwaj is a writer and journalist. His recent book, The Death Script, that traces the Naxal insurgency, received the Atta Galatta Non-Fiction Book of the Year 2020 award)