FINDING A BALANCE IN THE FIGHT AGAINST COVID-19
Ibelieve that free speech is the defining characteristic of a democracy. It even precedes the right to remove a government. And to be truly meaningful, free speech cannot exclude morally disturbing issues. They may be troubling, even unsettling, but ignoring them won’t make them disappear, whilst if we choose to maintain silence we will diminish our discussions and limit our horizons. It’s in that spirit that I want to raise a troubling question. It doesn’t have a clear or simple answer. In fact, our answers could divide us.
One more caveat. Rather than present the question at the outset, I propose to leave it to the end. By then, I hope, it will be obvious and may not need to be explicitly stated. But let me add, it’s a question that has been raised abroad, in The New York Times by Thomas Friedman, and in The Wall Street Journal by Robert Kaplan.
However, let me approach this issue tangentially. It needs to be put in context. Do we have any idea how many
Indians are likely to die of the coronavirus disease (Covid-19)? The World Health Organization estimates the mortality rate at 3.4%. The Italian experience suggests it’s close to 11%. The German rate is just under 1%. But these countries are very different from India. The closest in size, scale and density of population is China. However, China’s health care facilities are far superior. Now, in China around 82,000 were infected, which is 0.005% of the population; 3,300 died. Can we extrapolate from these figures to get an idea of what to expect in India? If, say, you increase the Chinese figures by a factor of three to account for our far poorer health care system, you can estimate 250,000 infected and 10,000-12,000 deaths. If you double it, that’s 20,000-25,000 deaths.
Let’s now come to the lockdown. It’s designed to prevent those who have brought in the infection from abroad, and those they’ve already infected from passing it on to others. That’s basically people like themselves. This is the upper 10-15% of our population. They are affluent people. But the people whose lives the lockdown is devastating — the daily wagers and rural landless labour — with destitution, starvation and, even death, are the poorest 10-15%. To put it bluntly, the people the lockdown is saving from Covid-19 are very different from the people it is economically and socially endangering.
So, how long can the lockdown continue? For India’s poor and vulnerable, it’s created a moral dilemma. No doubt it’s protecting their health, but it’s also impoverishing them, even to the point of imperilling their lives. The only people who can survive without economic damage are the affluent. They’re also the ones who brought Covid-19 to the country.
As a democracy, we need to seriously consider this issue. While all of us benefit from the health security that the lockdown ensures, how long can those paying the price of its economic and social devastation continue to do so? Remember, they are our fellow citizens even if we’re accustomed to never thinking about them. Their right to a meaningful life is as important as ours.
Now can you see the question I’ve deliberately tried not to frame in stark terms? In answering it, you have to address key concerns. What is the right way of fighting Covid-19? How great a cost can we impose on the poor and vulnerable? And is there a way of relaxing the lockdown so those at greatest risk remain protected while others — the young, for example — get back to work?
One thing is certain. We need a much better balance between protecting India’s medical health and endangering its economic health. At this point, that’s perhaps the greatest service we can do for our poor and vulnerable fellow citizens. Incidentally, they are the majority of our country. A true democracy would never forget that. In India, we usually have to be prodded and pushed to remember.
The focus of the fight against the coronavirus disease (Covid-19) has so far, correctly, been on preventive strategies, succour for the poor and migrant workers, and the economic repercussions. But the pandemic has also thrown up several social issues, many of them gender-related. One such issue is an increase in domestic violence. Women are more vulnerable when they are literally trapped in their homes, and kept away from people who could help them.
This violence has several dimensions. In India, such a situation can exacerbate the already weak position of women within the family — resources are normally limited for them, given that they are usually economically disempowered, and their voices are not heard. In addition, given their marginalisation within the family structure, they are most likely to be forced to be caregivers for those who have contracted the virus and are quarantined at home. This makes them vulnerable to becoming infected and also to violence if they refuse to carry out these duties.
Gender-based violence tends to increase in crisis situations such as natural disasters, epidemics and conflict. There are reports that in February, China saw a tripling in domestic violence cases compared to the previous year on account of the lockdown then in place, according to activists.
For women in India, with the law and order machinery already overstretched, it is unlikely that domestic violence will be a focus at the moment. For those already in abusive situations, medical care and counselling will be difficult to find, let alone support systems even within the family.
The prolonged economic deprivation and fear of job losses often tend to create frustrations which fuel domestic violence. Kerala, now a model state in its handling of the virus, has had a past history of domestic abuse brought on by unemployment and alcoholism, despite its other enviable social indicators. The situation in less developed states as people are driven indoors and face economic disempowerment will only be a lot worse.
Parental homes, once a refuge for many battered women, is no longer an option as the elderly are most vulnerable to the disease. The victims of domestic violence also now face the prospect of economic marginalisation as the labour market shrinks for women. So, in many ways, the woman is more dependent on her spouse or partner, even if in an abusive relationship.
In India, this is relatively uncharted territory but nevertheless one which merits attention. It may come as a surprise to many, given its patchy track record on gender equality, that Uttar Pradesh (UP) has risen to the occasion and launched a special helpline for women victims of domestic abuse. The UP police have titled the initiative “Suppress corona, not your voice” as part of what it calls an enhanced response to cases of violence against women. This is online and accompanied by a picture of a woman wearing a mask. The underlying message is that wearing a mask to stop the spread of the virus should not mean that you cannot make your voice heard on domestic violence. The police have asked victims to call a helpline number and assured victims that women police officers will visit them in the event of a complaint. This is the sort of reassuring response that women victims need at this moment. It will not detract from the other duties of the police and sends out the right message to abusers — that they cannot use the isolation and deprivation that women face as a result of the virus to visit violence on them.
Other states should consider emulating the UP example. This can bring about a modicum of hope and security to women facing domestic violence in a difficult and challenging context we are witnessing today.