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VOL.X ISSUE III MARCH 2003

 

Whose land is it anyway?

by Surendranath C

Other articles in this issue

Top heavy
Jayaprakash Narayan

Think before you vote
LC Jain

Her budget
Dr Vibhuti Patel

Dreaming inside a dark room
Lina Krishnan

Our voice
Ashish Sen

Why do we need partnerships?
Susan Mani

Hell on earth
Pankaj H Gupta

Seeking peace through justice
Dr Vibhuti Patel

Refractive Index

Human Index

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Adivasi land struggle in Kerala takes a violent, tragic turn

The struggle for land rights waged by the indigenous communities in Kerala took a violent, tragic turn on 12 February when the police and the forest protection staff unleashed a brutal attack and gunfire on over a thousand tribal men, women and children to evict them from the wildlife sanctuary in Wayanad they had ‘occupied’; the tribal group resisted the move with bows and arrows, and country weapons.
Adivasi
s (tribals) still hiding deep in the forests told reporters of the Malayalam daily Madhyamam that 14 people, including three children and three women, have been killed in the firing. The gunfire took place amidst the combat operations the police carried out to free a policeman and a forest official taken hostage by Adivasi Gothra Maha Sabha (AGMS), the apex organisation of around 35 indigenous communities in the state. However, the chief minister maintains that only one policeman and an adivasi was killed in the operations.

The police operation began after large tracts of the forest at Muthanga in Wayanad district suddenly ‘started burning’ on 18 February and an irate AGMS tied up 43 men on the payrolls of the department who were the forest at the time. AGMS alleged that the forest department had deliberately set fire to the forest in order to evict the tribal families. Five of them later deposed before the district officials that they suspected the role of the department in starting the fire which they were called into quell, others refuted the charge.
Though the hostages were freed through discussions with district officials early Wednesday morning, the real war on the tribal people began soon after as a huge contingent of police armed with guns and batons pounced on the adivasi huts in the forests. The police beat up men, women and children and set fire to the makeshift tents made of bamboo, grass and plastic sheets. They fired several rounds of rubber bullets. Later, as AGMS took two new protection staff members as hostages, police opened 22 rounds of fire on tents suspected to be the hideouts of the struggle leaders CK Janu and M.Geethanandan.
The incidents marked a totally tragic reversal of the democratic success the tribal agitation had won 17 months ago by forcing the chief minister to promise distribution of 0.4 to two hectares of land to each of the 53,000 landless tribal families. The betrayal of the promises – which included cultivable lands, a five-year rehabilitation programme and steps to designate tribal majority areas in the state as the Constitutional Schedule V lands with greater tribal autonomy – left the adivasis desperate and disillusioned. “We have no other option but to fight and die,” declared Janu, the maverick adiya woman who led the struggle. That was the beginning of the elemental confrontation in the Wayanad Wild Life Sanctuary between the adivasis and the forest department that ruled over the forestlands, involving many – the elephants and the wilder animals in the santuary, a number of civil society groups with vested interests over the forests and a divided ‘green’ movement with its loyalties pulled apart between elephants and the tribal.
Soon, over a thousand landless tribal families moved in, clearing the undergrowth, lighting fires, digging wells and virtually occupying the seasonal migratory paths and water trails of elephants and other wild animals. They put up hundreds of tents adjoining the eucalyptus plantations in the sanctuary where Kerala forest department had planted seedlings of natural forest trees under a reforestation project. Before any one else, the Wayanad Prakriti Samrakshana Samithi (Wayanad Nature Conservation Society), a local environmental group that had hitherto supported adivasi struggles, came out with an open call to AGMS to move out of the forests in the interests of conserving the elephants and the forest ecosystem.
“We would forcibly resist all moves to throw us out,” claimed Janu. “These forestlands were our dwelling places before the State threw us out and turned them into plantations for the Birlas. These are our alienated homelands; our Gods and our places of worship remain here,” she claimed, arguing that under the custody of the Kerala forest department, the forests had only suffered severe degradation. “The forest department can’t grow a forest in a lifetime, but we adivasis can do it.”
For the AGMS and the adivasis, the struggle amounted to a desperate return to the locale and the roots of a primordial conflict with the rulers of the land who had usurped the forests and turned the forest dwellers into bonded labourers. Heralding this confrontationist phase of the tribal land struggle, a ‘tribal court’ organised by AGS in last August had branded the Kerala forest department and the forest conservation system as the prime enemies of tribal people.
“Various adivasis – the Kanikkar and Muthuvar of Thiruvithamkur, the Badagars and Thodars of Nilgiris and Naicker, Paniyar and Kurumbar of Wayanad – whose rights over the primeval forests had been recognised for ages were the first to be threatened by the plantations,” says K Raviraman, scholar associated with Centre for Development Studies, Thiruvananthapuram.

AGS also held a more recent grouse against the forest department. The organisation alleged that the department and the forest mafia played the key role in sabotaging the accord on land assignment signed between the government and tribal leadership in October 2001. After a 48-day sit-in strike in front of the state secretariat in Thiruvananthapuram, the adivasi-Dalit agitation council led by Janu had then won a commitment from the government to distribute one to five acres of land to all landless tribal families and implement a Tribal Rehabilitation and Development Mission (TRDM) over the next five years. But the accord got grounded before it really took off.

Saga of betrayal

In the past, successive governments in Kerala have been only too willing to distribute title deeds for all available tribal tracts or forestland. While the settlers and the encroachers made the most of the turbulent ‘grow more food’ campaign years, the big plantation companies remained untouched by land reforms. In the process, the adivasis and the forests on which they depend for survival ended up as the twin casualty.
Though the state assembly had passed the Kerala Scheduled Tribes [Restriction on Transfer of Lands and Restoration of Alienated Lands] Act, 1975 unanimously, the Act was kept in the cold storage for 11 years as no rules were framed until 1986. The Act rescued from an ignominious burial only by a public interest litigation filed by Nalla Thambi Thera, a non-adivasi doctor in Wayanad.
When stung by a series of adverse High Court orders, the successive state governments then set about bringing in new legislation to dilute the original Act. On two occasions, the state governor turned down ordinances pushed through for the purpose. Later the president too returned a bill passed by the assembly in 1996. Eventually, faced with contempt of court proceedings, the government hurriedly enacted the Kerala Restriction on Transfer by and Restoration of Lands to Scheduled Tribes Act, 1999. The 1999 Act bye-passed the Constitutional requirement of restoring alienated lands by proposing to assign compensatory, alternative lands. The legal validity of the Act, already nullified by the High Court, is presently under the scrutiny of the Supreme Court of India.
There were other legal instruments too such as the Land Reforms Act, 1964 and the Private Forest Vesting and Assignment Act, 1971, which envisaged land assignment to the landless poor. Of these, the Land Reforms Act exempted the plantation sector from land ceiling and, in some cases, treated the adivasi as a landowner and handed over his land to the encroacher/settler tenants.
The provision in the 1971 Act to assign 23,058.63 hectares of vested forestland to tribal families was never implemented in earnest. Had this been done prior to the tightening of forest laws in 1980, the tribal land issue could have been resolved decades ago without snowballing into the present social conflict and legal tangle.
 

Too pragmatic?

Faced with this legal impasse, the adivasis led by Janu made a strategic turn around in 2001 by shelving the demand for restoration of the original, alienated tribal lands. They now demanded five acres of land for each landless tribal family (a total of 225,000 acres) to be assigned from among at least 1,100,000 acres held by the various government corporations and departments. They argued the 1975 Act could not have brought succour to even one-tenth of the landless tribal families in the State. This was because the cumbersome procedures had already reduced the number of valid claims for restoration to just 4,524 cases worth a mere 7,640 acres of land. The reason was simple: until recently the adivasis had neither known nor believed in possessing title deeds for the lands they lived on under nature’s boundless care.
The new strategy had several advantages. Fist, it sought to avoid settling historical scores with the encroachers, a majority of whom were small farmers who possessed less than 0.5 hectares. It stressed the urgency and inevitability of taking a pragmatic approach in saving the adivasis from the starvation deaths. It argued that democratic alternatives existed outside the bounds of rigid principles and procedures of law. For the first time in Kerala history, the adivasi land struggle opened up a space for dialogue and constructive cooperation between the State and the adivasis. But the biggest catch in the whole accord and the Tribal Rehabilitation and Development Mission master plan was that the adivasis were promised forestlands or uncultivable tracts – the first bound to be rejected by the Central Government under the Forest Conservation Act (FCA), 1980, and the second, by the adivasis themselves.
The accord also left untouched vast stretches of land illegally usurped and kept in possession by big plantations, such as 20,234 hectares of illegal forestland held by Tata Tea in Idukki district, mentioned by the Legislative Committee on Government Assurances (1998-2000). In the end, the connivance of the revenue and forest officials ended up in listing several uninhabitable and uncultivable hill slopes such as those at Mankulam (8094 hectares) for handing over to the adivasis. In less than a year, the adivasis cause was betrayed once again. The bitterness has now penetrated the rank and file of the adivasis in Kerala. From the euphoria and the short-lived success of the democratic struggle in 2001, the adivasis have now gone back to the hazy jungle of a suicidal battle, fought against heavy odds.
Following AGS, other adivasi organisations too had started occupying forests and government plantation lands in Wayanad, reflecting the mood in the tribal belts. Nevertheless, without lifting a finger to find a solution to the vexed tribal land issue through a democratic means, the State government unleashed a brutal attack on the adivasis, creating a bogey that the adivasis had taken to “armed struggle’ under the support of LTTE, PWG and the likes. The demands for conservation of ecology, a cause that successive state governments in Kerala had never supported in the past, came in handy. “These lands are in the core area of the Wayanad Wild Life Sanctuary, contiguous with the protected forests in neighbouring Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, and extremely important in the conservation of the Asiatic elephants, argued Wayanad Prakriti Samrakshana Samithi. 

An acerbic Janu had, however, challenged the environmentalists to “open their eyes and see the degradation that had come about the forests under the rule of the forest department”. Forty percent of the sanctuary has already been turned into eucalyptus and teak plantation, leaving little food and water for the elephants and the wildlife, forcing them to raid on crops in the neighbouring farms.
This conflict with the Greens marked the crucial turn in the adivasi land struggle in Kerala. The other demand of the adivasis – for dissolving the forest department and replacing it with people’s forest management, remains suppressed in the barrage of charges and counter charges raised I the aftermath of the terror in Muthanga. The adivasis and their leadership have been silenced, as they are holed up in the deep forest. Several tribal people who returned to the village have been arrested and imprisoned. Even innocent adivasis are being taken into custody as ‘extremists’, often betrayed by their own big brothers, the settlers. Pushed out of the forests with bullets and batons, taken into custody from the villages, the indigenous people of Kerala now have no place on earth.
 

The accord and the discord

On New Year’s day 2002, Kerala chief minister AK Antony danced with adivasis at Marayoor in Idukki district to celebrate the launch of the distribution of land to the landless tribal families and the implementation of the master plan for tribal rehabilitation. Under the pact signed in October 2001, the government had for the first time promised to make efforts to get Central clearance for declaring tribal majority areas in the state as Schedule V areas and grant decisive powers to the Oorukoottam (hamlet-level tribal council) on development schemes implemented in tribal areas. Had the accord been implemented, it would have set a milestone in the path of Kerala’s much-touted ‘radical’ development.
But in a few days, the land distribution got mired in a controversy with the revenue and the forest departments claiming authority over the lands identified to be assigned to the tribal. A major chunk of the land was from the vested forests where any non-forestry activity could not be permitted under the Forest Conservation Act, 1980.
Soon the other components of the accord too fell apart. The state minister for tribal welfare blocked the funds earmarked for the Tribal Rehabilitation and Development Mission. The ministry of environment and forests turned down the state’s request to assign forestlands to adivasis. The demand to constitute Schedule V areas in the state was not pursued. The Oorukoottams were ordered to be superseded by politically elected gram panchayats.

In the bitter squabbles that ensued, the adivasi organisation earned the wrath of the media and certain Green groups on account its demand for assigning forestlands. The adivasis and their cause got marginalised more than ever before.

Surendranath C is a freelance environment journalist based in Kerala. He works for The Quest Features & Footages. He can be contacted at surendranath@journalist.com

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Tents have been erected in the Muthanga Wild Life Sanctuary

“We have no other option but to fight and die” – a confrontation is underway in the Wayanad Wild Life Sanctuary between adivasis and the forest department

Tricky business: land distribution has been mired in controversy with the revenue and the forest departments claiming authority over the lands identified to be assigned to the tribal

The colony within

“Our struggle is for the democratisation of the Kerala society,” argued M Geethandan, a former Naxalite who spearhead the land struggle with Janu. He viewed the conflict between the adivasis and environmentalists as an inevitable eruption of a deep-rooted malaise in Kerala society. Despite acclaimed achievements in redistributing land wealth and the benefits of healthcare and education services more equitably among the population, the ‘Kerala model’ of development had virtually left the state’s tribal pockets worthy of epithets such as ‘Kerala’s Africa’ and the ‘Hills of Shame’.

·        Starvation deaths still stalked the tribal hamlets in the state. The death of more than 23 people in two months was the immediate provocation for the adivasis to set up “refugee camps” in the state capital in August 2001 and block the extravaganza of State-sponsored Onam festival.

·        Against a much-touted 100 per cent literacy in the state, half the tribal population remained illiterate. Among the Muthuvans and Kadars, over 60 per cent of the males and 90 per cent of females remained illiterate.

·        Among the Kurumbas in Attappady, infant mortality stood at 280 in every 1000 births, against 13 in the general population. While Kerala had reduced its maternal mortality rate (MMR) to 1.9 for 1,000 deliveries by 1998, nearly six times more mothers died in the primary health centre at Agaly the same year.

·        Every sixth man or a woman in the Anappanthi tribal hamlet in Wayanad is insane. Many more show early symptoms.

·        Thirunelly panchayat in Wayanad district has the largest number of tribal ‘unwed mothers’, a euphemism for victims of rape and sexual exploitation, most of them victims of non-tribal who entice them with false promises of jobs or marriage.

·        As per records, nearly 90 per cent of tribal households in the state have been provided with houses. But the proportion of pucca houses remains less than ten per cent. In most tribal colonies in Wayanad, four to five families live crammed in a single mud and bamboo hut. Very often, an adivasi hut is also a gravestone because there is no land for these families to bury the dead, except beneath the floor on which they live, eat, sleep and procreate.

·        Out of the 320,000 adivasis in Kerala, 90 per cent, comprising 53,472 families remain landless, according to AGMS. At least 80,590 hectares of tribal land have been alienated in the state prior to 1996. Successive governments could till now restore hardly 440 hectares of land.

·        A major chunk of the lands usurped from the adivasis remains with State departments and the plantations.

·        The colonisation of tribal lands is most evident in Attappady where the tribal population dropped from 64 per cent in 1961 to 33 per cent in 1981.