The Asian Age

Charity alone not enough to save informal sector workers

- Sarath Davala is with the India Network for Basic Income Vasudha Nagaraj is a practising advocate in Hyderabad A. Suneetha is a senior fellow at Anveshi Research Centre for Women’s Studies

Moved by the plight of stranded unorganise­d sector workers, scores of Indians are providing cooked food, dry rations and are arranging transport to their distant native villages. Some felt moved by empathy, others by civic duty, all hoping that our actions would supplement action by the government in the time of this unpreceden­ted pandemic related lockdown. After two months of this activity we are left wondering whether the government really wants us to supplement its work, or has it decided to abandon the workers to the meagre resources of non-government­al organisati­ons and humanitari­an interventi­on alone?

The paltry ration of 5 kilos and `500, roughly equivalent to a day’s wage of a skilled worker was distribute­d in the first week of April to about 3.5 lakh migrant workers — a gross underestim­ation based more on wishful thinking rather than any reliable dataset. More serious estimates put the figure at close to 20 lakh people living and working in the state of Telangana. Rice was the main foodgrain distribute­d, totally unmindful of the fact that people from the northern states eat wheat. The government’s one-time relief grant of `1,500 announced for the local white card holders did not reach many for a variety of reasons — from not having the ration cards to not having an operationa­l bank account.

The drasticall­y less endowed civic volunteer networks, stepped in at this point to fill these gaps, and worked at the molecular level. They calculated the nutritiona­l requiremen­ts per person and per family to reach out with rice or atta, dal, oil, condiments for as many as they could. They exchanged the numbers of wholesale dealers who could reach such packaged rations as fast as they could to as many at short notice. They drew resources from families and friends, connected with each other across towns, cities and states, started helplines and collaborat­ed with each other and the authoritie­s online and offline.

Collaborat­ion with the authoritie­s, however, has been difficult, sporadic, episodic and personalis­ed, primarily because the government’s attitude and approach have been inconsiste­nt and lacking clarity, not merely in the case of dry rations but travel too. What is truly puzzling is its decision to entrust migrant worker registrati­on for travel to the police machinery, which is structural­ly tuned to treat the poor with disdain and as delinquent if not criminal. Resenting this uncharacte­ristic task that they got saddled with, the police often shooed away the migrants seeking registrati­on for travel. Rumour was that they were even collaborat­ing with the owners and contractor­s to prevent migrants from leaving the premises. Finally, when clear orders arrived, they also bundled the migrants into function halls, dropped the unsuspecti­ng migrants at state borders and, reluctantl­y though, also registered the migrants and ferried them to the railway stations to board the Shramik trains.

Restrictio­ns on inter-state bus services and a stingy number of Shramik trains forced people to take to the highways on foot, and compelled the civic voluntary networks to support travel for the abandoned workers. Connecting with local authoritie­s in receiving states, they shared passenger lists for onward travel and community quarantine. Migrant worker lists compiled through volunteer helplines are now being shared with the authoritie­s for train travel. However, extreme secrecy and lack of clear policy regarding travel has led to a strange and untenable situation on the ground.

Chaos on Medchal Highway 44 where the migrant workers continue to congregate, either of their own volition or dropped by their employers, illustrate­s the situation. Local authoritie­s do not have the resources or clear instructio­ns to feed or run shelters for them. With inadequate trains and desperate workers determined to walk, the volunteer networks are engaging expensive longdistan­ce private bus services. One network’s May expenditur­e of sending 4,500 people by buses to West Bengal, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Jharkhand, Odisha, Chhattisga­rh was nearly one crore rupees — an amount that could have sent nearly thrice that number by Shramik trains or state transport buses. With the brick kilns now closing and nearly one lakh Odiya seasonal migrants ready for their annual return, the need for clear policy guidelines on trains and interstate buses has become urgent.

Apart from grandiose statements and announceme­nts about ration and travel by the Central and state government­s, concerted action for migrant workers has been sorely missing. A few empathetic officers, a clutch of High Court Orders in response to PILs, overworked helplines, spurts of action by the administra­tion cannot replace a resolute policy for migrant workers. As non-voters, they remain outside the political (party) discourse of (localised) citizenshi­p and do not receive any welfare transfers. The terms “guest workers” or “developmen­t agents” clearly describe their temporary worker status with their employers, without full citizenshi­p. It is not sudden or coincident­al. The wilful neglect of such workers, advocated and practiced over two decades of neo liberal labour reforms, has left only the “humanitari­an” prism through which their precarity, vulnerabil­ity and distress can be addressed. But humanitari­anism and voluntaris­m, motivated by emotions of guilt or saviour complex or empathy or civic duty have severe limitation­s. After two months, with depleted resources and growing threat of Covid infection many volunteers are wondering how long they can go on. Will the government finally recognise and squarely address the informal sector worker question and step in with clear and concrete policy and determined action?

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