Extracting the Naxalite insurgency

The Naxalite movement, an armed left-winged extremist movement, was born from the 1967 Naxalbari uprising in the state of West Bengal in India. The peasants in the region, mobilized by communist leaders, revolted against landowners and the feudal landownership and tenancy system that remained from the colonial era (EFSAS 2019). Peasant uprisings were not uncommon in British India’s history, however, it was the unmet promise of land policy reform which fuelled the revolt in Naxalbari, coupled with a stronger consolidation of Marxist and Maoist ideology with the Communist Party of India (CPI). The original CPI backed uprisings were crushed when the CPI surrendered in 1951 (EFSAS 2019). The second wave of Naxalite revolts, after it spread to rural areas of India, were also suppressed by the central government in the 1970s (Sundar 2012, 149). The Naxalite movement today has taken hold in the central and eastern states of India, especially in Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, and Odisha. Within the states in the ‘tribal belt,’ the Naxalite movement has particularly gripped the Adivasis (i.e. Indigenous people), tribal, and rural populations as they face the highest rates of marginalization by state governments (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 185). Also called ‘the Maoist issue,’ the Naxalite movement is understood in three main methodological frames. First is the security frame, which considers Naxalites an internal security threat by the government. Second is the ‘root causes’ perspective which suggests poor development schemes are the main issue, leading to the emergence of a securitized development agenda to address and suppress the Naxalites (Sundar 2012, 150). This enabled the central government to view “development works in conflict zones as national security programmes” (Hoelscher, Miklian and Vadlamannati 2012, 142). The third perspective is the revolutionary agenda held by the Naxalites, which challenges structural violence against marginalized communities in India through armed resistance (Sundar 2012, 150).

The priorities of the Naxalites in Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, and Odisha differ from the priorities of other states. The reason being that these three states are Adivasi-dominated regions, and the primary issue has been the exploitation of land resources such as mining and forests, keeping the violence between the state and the insurgents. In comparison, in other states like Bihar and Andhra Pradesh, the main issue is the semi-feudal land ownership structure, constraining the violence between landowners and the insurgents, with state intervention (Sundar 2012, 152). This distinction is important for the purposes of this research paper. The CPI-Maoist (CPI-M) was unified and formed in 2004, which happened just after the 2003 liberalization of extraction policies in India (Sundar 2012, 153). Additionally, the states of Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand were created in 2000, to support the upcoming liberal reforms called the Economic, Liberalization, Privatization and Globalization scheme (LPG) (Spacek 2014, 619). The 2008 National Mineral Policy and the 2012 Mines and Minerals (Development and Regulation) Act eased corporate resource extraction and made resistance more impossible (Kennedy 2015, 153). This paper asks, what techniques of violence are employed by the central and state governments in creating and maintaining spaces for insurgency? I argue that the Naxalite movement has persisted beyond its original conception because of provocation by the state to bolster extractive industries guided by a national liberal development framework.

Theoretical Framework

The provoking insurgencies theory suggests that a government ‘triggers’ insurgent activity to gain control of ‘economic assets’ that would bolster the state’s economic development. Azam and Bhatia (2017) predict that “increases in the economic values at stake, e.g., minerals, will lead to an escalation of violence by all three players if the greater economic value favors mainly the state government” (184). The three players in their theory are the Naxalites, the state, and the central government, “whereby the state government manipulates the level of its intervention to try to induce the central government to join forces with it to repress the rebellion provoked by the state government itself” (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 184). The state governments legally own the minerals and have increased the royalty rates exponentially over the last two decades. Considering the majority of the mineral-dominant states are tribal-dominated as well, and that any commercially driven alienation of tribal land is prohibited in Schedules V and VI of the Indian Constitution, this practice is highly contentious. Tribal land and forested areas are particularly protected so that no tribal land can be owned by non-tribal people through legal frameworks like the Scheduled Tribes and other Forest Dwelling Communities (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act. However, the Naxalites have disrupted industrialization efforts by state governments, causing delays in access and development worth $80 billion, prompting states to bypass land laws protecting tribals and Adivasis (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 187). Because of special central government provisions to address the Naxalite issue, such as the Security Related Expenditure (SRE) scheme or the Naxalite Affected Areas (Special Provisions) Bill, if a district is labelled as Naxalite-affected, the state has access to central government funds and paramilitary forces to clear lands and forests (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 188). Conducting an econometric analysis, the authors find that state violence positively impacts Naxalite violence, but that the Naxalites strategize their violence based on the probability of central government armed intervention (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 206). They emphasise that there is no ‘aggression retaliation cycle,’ rather, asymmetrical strategic responses are deployed by the Naxalites ahead of predicted state and central government violence, supporting the argument of provocation. The central government, because of constitutionally protective legal frameworks, faces a major political cost if the military were to intervene in an area where there is no rebellion. The mere presence of tribal populations in proximate areas to available resources positively impacts state violence in resource-rich ‘Naxalite-affected’ districts, allowing access to central forces on behalf of state aggression (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 200).

Spacek (2014) and Mukherjee (2018) suggest the importance of structural legacies of space and colonial indirect rule in explaining the persistence of the Naxalite movement. Spacek argues that “spaces of power create spaces of (relative) powerlessness,” so, the “expansion of state space into eastern and central India has occurred simultaneously with the production of spaces of insurgency,” thus “the Maoists are a consequence of, and contemporary agents in, spatial production” (610, 614). He argues that peripheral spaces, i.e. marginalized spaces, are strategically formed by the nation-state to make it a space of settlement and extraction (Spacek 2014, 615). He identifies three characteristics of state production of insurgent space. First, the state has had a shallow historical presence in the area. Second, the state has “relied disproportionately on its repressive apparatus,” and third, state expansion has been “driven by opportunities for resource exploitation or responses to threats from rebellion” (Spacek 2014, 615). During the British Raj, roads and railways were constructed to connect sites of extraction and industrialisation, which was met with resistance because of land alienation and displacement. In response to rebellion, the British isolated Adivasi areas as being outside of modernity, and protecting them under ‘traditional’ rights (Spacek 2014, 617). Due to the contradictory spatial logic of conservation versus extraction of land and resources, “resistance became structured around material demands framed around idioms of anti-modernity” (Spacek 2014, 618). Mukherjee considers the ‘structural constraints’ for Naxalite leaders created by colonial indirect rule. He identifies that colonial indirect rule created low state capacity and development, and caused exploitation of forest and natural resources from tribes through the isolation of princely states and introducing laws that gave the state rights to remove access to resources for livelihood purposes (Mukherjee 2018, 116). Chhattisgarh is one of those princely states that he uses as a case study to establish a causal relationship. Informal (i.e. indirect) mechanisms of taxation and revenue collection by landowners under colonial rule, coupled with feudal structures (i.e. princely) granted the state autonomy to exploit land rights. This led to poor administrative and bureaucratic structures in comparison to other states more heavily supervised by colonial administration (Mukherjee 2018, 119). Poor governance continues today in these states as corruption and lack of trust in state institutions form the bedrock of local grievances. He finds “once the institutions of indirect rule were in place, they had an additional effect on state penetration and development which persisted through ‘sticky’ path dependent mechanisms and created political opportunity structures for leftist insurgency” (Mukherjee 2018, 125). Moreover, he asserts that these structural constraints enable factors like weak state capacity, ethnic inequalities, poor education, and development to be exploited by the Naxalites, after the insurgency has already begun (Mukherjee 2018, 119, 125).

Chhattisgarh

The state of Chhattisgarh has 14 Naxalite-affected districts according to the Indian government’s latest classification (Government of India 2019). In 2009, the Dantewada district suffered a 4.8 billion rupees loss due to Naxalite attacks that targeted railways and pipelines, as well as supported general strikes (Kennedy 2015, 151). These interventions prompted extraction corporations to suggest either sending in armed battalions or paying the Naxalites protection money. The 2006 Chhattisgarh Public Safety Act, and the Indian Special Public Protection Act, allows the state to punish any individual that is part of an “unlawful organization or harbour any member of such organization,” however, there are no clear physical identifiers that would differentiate a Naxalite from a local (Vora and Buxy 2011, 361). And so, if by chance an individual is found to be a Naxalite later, any person that interacted with said individual would be criminalized under this law. This creates legal space for disproportionate discrimination of Adivasi and tribal communities, so “states’ aggressive policies against Naxalites are mostly implemented on the locals instead of the Naxalites” (Vora and Buxy 2011, 364). For example, Salwa Judum, a government sponsored civilian militia meaning ‘purification hunt,’ was created under a state rationale to “bolster official military capacity, make the mineral-rich area safer for industrial extraction, and allow for official deniability of any violence taken against civilians and suspected Naxals” (Miklian 2009, 442). The leaders of this militia operated as “local warlords” forcefully grabbing land and “redirecting funding provided by the state government for the IDP camps” and “funding personal armies with the money received from mining companies who contract them for protection and ‘ground-clearing services” (Miklian 2009, 442). IDP refers to internally displaced people, and these camps were on the edges of highways with inhospitable conditions. The IDP were “forced to train with police and become Special Police Officers” instead of receiving support in education and employment (Vora and Buxy 2011, 362). To make matters worse, neither the Chhattisgarh state nor neighbouring states like Andhra Pradesh would take responsibility for their care (Vora and Buxy 2011, 363). Thus, districts like Dantewad,a which was most affected by Salwa Judum and Naxalism, “developed the embryonic characteristics of entrenched violence” (Miklian 2009, 443). Salwa Judum was created by Mahendra Karma, a CPI-ML politician turned Congress politician who rose to infamy because of an illegal timber deal with Adivasis. Salwa Judum served as a state sponsored cover to continue his illegal extractive practices (Miklian 2009, 446).

The IDPs and locals are heavily inclined to support the Naxalites because their state structures do not provide them with the safety and security they need. The Naxalites, on a local level, “provide an organizational framework that is powerful enough to challenge the power of the state and the mining companies” (Kennedy 2015, 152). Additionally, the Naxalites support the Adivasi and tribal community’s desire for a separate kingdom in Dantewada, which was their demand pre-independence from the British (Kennedy and King 2013, 21). The case of Chhattisgarh supports the provoking insurgencies theory and how structural constraints enable spaces of insurgent activity. The presence of tribal populations in resource abundant areas made it more possible to declare the district Naxalite-affected, allowing the state access to central government provisions such as paramilitary forces and the creation of a government sponsored militia, which disproportionately affected locals, prompting locals to seek support from the Naxalites to fight on their behalf. The 2008 public interest petition filed to the Supreme Court provided evidence that the Salwa Judum had burned 2825 houses, sexually assaulted 99 women, and forcible displaced around 100,000 people (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 188). The Supreme Court eventually ruled to deem the Salwa Judum as illegal and shut down its operations. The creation of it though, was an arbitrary use of state and central provisions framed around resisting Naxalism, but targeted already marginalized populations, pushing them further into isolated spaces away from the rest of Indian society. The colonial legacy of the civilizing mission, coupled with caste-based discrimination, creates political and social spaces for insurgent activity to persist in the conflict-ridden areas. Furthermore, indirect rule practice in Chhattisgarh pre-separation as an independent state has set up weak state institutions predicated on isolation from ‘modernized’ parts of the country, low connectivity of people, and focusing on the exploitation of resources to give that area value. The key difference in the isolation element is that direct rule states that had better administration had more schools, roads, access to electricity, and more public goods in contrast to indirect rule states where railways, electricity, and education services were lowest (Mukherjee 2018, 116).

Jharkhand

Jharkhand has 19 Naxalite-affected districts, making it the most Naxalite-affected state in the country (Government of India 2019). The Adivasis and tribal communities of Jharkhand interact more proactively with their natural resources. The local population mines coal illegally under a moral claim of ownership and livelihood. Framed as “social and environmental justice,” IDP in the North Karanpura district collect coal so that “the very material commodity that caused their displacement […] and turned them into illegal citizens—now provides them with a way to subsist,” in an act of reclamation (Lahiri-Dutt 2017, 797). Over a third of the state’s GDP in 2008 was mining related (Spacek 2014, 624). According Jharkhand’s 1908 Chotanagpur Tenancy Act, 1949 Santhal Parganas Act and the 1996 Panchayat Extension to Scheduled Areas Act, Indigenous land alienation is prohibited, in addition to constitutionally prohibited commercial and non-tribal ownership of land (Lahiri-Dutt 2017, 799). However, extraction has spread into the protected forests, with government sponsored infrastructure development projects like railways, which support privately owned mines in the area. Here, “displacement and the transformation of spatial practice in the region is not linked to the expansion of ‘ideal’ state spaces into peripheral areas, but is rather the consequence of the massive expansion of industrial sites” (Spacek 2014, 624). The government can invoke the 1957 Coal Bearing Areas (Acquisition and Development) Act and the 1894 Land Acquisition Act to overrule the state laws against mining on Adivasi land as they provide the state the authority to seize any citizen-owned property for extracting coal to produce electricity (Lahiri-Dutt 2017, 801). Thus, “private entrepreneurs take advantage of the plethora of coal laws that prioritise nation-building, and that were designed to make the state the primary extractor” (Lahiri-Dutt 2017, 802).

Here we see a complete takeover of Adivasi and tribal land via techniques of legal manipulation by a state government under a developmental and industrial frame. This practice of bypassing a state’s own laws by prioritizing extractive laws that support national liberalization agendas is a provocative measure. The state government exploits its position as the legal owner of the land to alienate Adivasis and tribal communities under a veil of national development. The Environment and Forest department has admitted that the central government has increased pressure for states to perform well economically under the LPG scheme, strong arming states to flout their own rules and prioritise extraction, which further displaces marginalized communities provoking rebellion and armed resistance (Azam and Bhatia 2017, 187). This practice, however, is only possible because of weak governance structures that have normalised corruption-friendly tactics of area domination. These poor institutional structures are a legacy of colonial indirect rule. Indirect rule enabled extraction and sale of natural resources to be cheaper as they would be facilitated by local princes or landlords. The 1878 Forest Act gave the state the authority to prevent Indigenous people from accessing said resources for livelihood purposes. Indirect rule states were designed to be revenue generating states with mediating governing structures rather than administration, enabling systemic violations of constitutionally protected rights (Mukherjee 2018, 116-117). But not all areas of the state were left to indirect rule. The Chotanagpur plateau “has historically been more economically and politically integrated into the state” whereby the mining activity bolstered infrastructure like roads and railways for better connection to the ports (Spacek 2014, 623). However, this plateau also covers parts of neighbouring states Chhattisgarh and Odisha, so the ability to integrate was reserved for certain designated areas while the remainder of the region was labelled as Adivasi and backward areas. Unlike Chhattisgarh, the creation of Jharkhand was predicated on “autonomy and cultural authenticity” to provide Adivasis a political home within the nation-state, which has been usurped by the Naxalites for space control, rather than justice (Spacek 2014, 624). Exploiting the illegal reclamation of land by the Adivasis, the Naxalites take advantage of a state structure that is dependent on labour. Jharkhand, as a space, was designed to remain around areas already integrated into a capitalist system. This capitalist system was built around extraction in isolated areas, creating a “hybrid space” that was “shaped by, the emergence of forms of political mobilisation that drew on a particular modernist re-imagining of rebellion and political action which sought to deepen the production of temporarily frozen Adivasi space” (Spacek 2014, 625). Jharkhand’s case is an example of Suykens’ “twilight authority phenomenon” where “one source of authority does not represent the denial of other sources of authority, but in which multiple authorities engage and interlock with each other” (Spacek 2014, 625). The creation of these hybrid spaces where the Naxalites are able to establish organizational and governmental authority alternatives to the local populations is an ongoing project dependent on their interactions with the state and central governments. However, the key authority left out of this dynamic is the Adivasis themselves, who have the most stakes involved.

Odisha

The state of Odisha has 15 recognized Naxalite-affected districts (Government of India 2019). Resource extraction has resulted in mass ‘economic, social and cultural displacement’ of tribal people as the majority of the mining industry in the state is in tribal areas (Sahoo 2015, 165). This has also prompted most of the developmental investment in the state to be concentrated within the tribal communities. However, while the state government, development organizations, and corporations are acting on behalf of the local population, the locals are left out of the process of development, making the state and corporations “attractive targets through their inability to engage with the target population” (Miklian 2012, 574). For example, in 2006, the tribal population in the Kalinganagar district protested the iron mining project by Tata, which resulted in the police shooting 12 tribal people since the state and corporations regularly utilize police and “goonda violence” in response to resistance (Kennedy 2015, 154). Land acquisition for investment projects has increased disproportionately to rising industrial mining demand in Odisha. Mining related projects encompass 40% of land acquisition in comparison to 25% for infrastructure development (Sahoo 2015, 160). Moreover, tribal mining districts see a 30.38% rate of land acquisition, which is lower than mining districts that have both tribal and non-tribal people at 40.93%, the difference being attributed to tribal resistance (Sahoo 2015, 161). However, as tribal mining districts have a higher concentration of tribal people, there are other ‘backwash effects’ like environmental and agricultural consequences in addition displacement costs. Regional development in infrastructure and employment do not compensate for the disproportionate impact of ‘backwash effects’ on the tribal population (Sahoo 2015, 163).

The South Korean POSCO corporation is another example of neglecting tribal political agency and unofficial state promotion of mining in protected areas. The company first negotiated directly with the local population but decided to move elsewhere for their project and promised that no police would be involved in land acquisition. But, state and central government officials, impatiently collaborated with local police to inspect POSCO proposed sites without company or local knowledge. In 2009, the tribal community was offered displacement compensation in the form of free housing, cash, and rehabilitation, which they accepted, however, after almost a third of the villagers moved into the camps, they received about 20 rupees a day, and the camp was like a cage with no working functions (Miklian 2012, 570). But, in 2007, POSCO had already ended discussions with local rebel groups that militarised after receiving help from the Naxalites, considering it an internal security issue. The consequence of “this corporate ‘distancing’ in the name of impartiality between the Indian government and its citizens further incensed local populations and entrenched Maoist activity” (Miklian 2012, 571). This example is used by POSCO as a “case study in corporate responsibility” and considering that “Indian mining regulations are a maze of backdoor dealings, pre-independence British laws, and contradictory state and federal-level directives,” supporting political developmental campaigns would make allies and support CSR objectives (Miklian 2012, 572). By 2011, ‘ground-clearing’ projects had begun. Similar coerced eviction processes for mining took place in Niyamgiri, Lanjigarh and Kashipur districts, labelled as development projects (Vora and Buxy 2011, 365). Nonconsensual state intervention, denying political agency of tribal populations, and inhumane compensation provisions is provocative for the Naxalites. The Naxalite response to tribal grievances was then used as a valid reason for the state to seek central provisions to carry out land and forest clearing to further displace tribal people. With inadequate state capacity to rehabilitate tribal populations, the area creates physical and legal space for insurgency to root itself. Ultimately, “respecting and recognizing meaningful existence of villagers and forest-dwellers and treating them with substantive equality” and including them as political actors is essential in re-imagining a post-Naxal era (Vora and Buxy 2011, 367).

Conclusion

The nation-state’s priorities of liberalized development under capitalism underscores the state government’s facilitation of resource extraction, which is informed by colonial structures. The view that “tribal communities are ‘backward Hindus’ outside of civilization that need to be developed into productive citizens by force through land alienation continues colonial techniques of expecting grateful subjects who consent to their subjugation (Kennedy 2015, 154). Focusing on the persistence of the Naxalite movement, in the period of 2002-2011, “districts with commercially viable quantities of these minerals are 6.4 times more likely to experience insurgent activity” (Kennedy 2015, 159). Furthermore, “districts in the tribal belt with abundant quantities of these minerals are 10.9 times more likely to be affected by insurgent activity” since tribal communities have much stronger links with nature and depend on the land to support their livelihood (Kennedy 2015, 160). This impact is not present however, in the early phases of the Naxalite movement as liberalization is the catalyst that created political space for the insurgency to continue. Simply being resource abundant is insufficient in increasing the chances of insurgency, as there are cases where peaceful development is possible, such as Norway and Botswana. It is the combination of economic liberalization, the social structures of the communities affected and their ties to the land which can make the area more or less prone to insurgency (Kennedy 2015, 161). And so, “lower district level per capita GDP is related to greater frequency and severity of Maoist violence” (Hoelscher, Miklian and Vadlamannati 2012, 151). Additionally, locals are more likely to be supporters and perpetrators of insurgency in “areas where Adivasis still cultivate their own land” to support their livelihood, rather than areas where Adivasis work as “landless labourers” because cultivators have stronger symbolic relations with the land and “organizational autonomy” in its management (Kennedy and King 2013, 16). The inclusion of tribal people politically into the constitution has been counterproductive as there is no inclusion societally, worsening structural inequalities. The Naxalite insurgency is a “medium through which a variety of grievances can be addressed within the space of a greater conflict, rather than binary conflicts neatly organized around a single master cleavage” (Kennedy and King 2013, 9). Its persistence can be explained through micro-level dynamics that differ state by state, but is part of a larger structural problem of maintaining insurgent spaces through techniques of weaponised development.

Disclaimer: This work is original and the property of Aroni Sarkar. It is not authorised for any use, copies or dissemination.

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