by Kuldip Nayar
2
Annexure
Human Rights and the Environment
Iowe my initiation into the field of human rights to Justice V.M. Tarkunde, a simple and modest individual who pioneered the movement in India to provide safeguards to the people against government excesses. After resigning from the Maharashtra High Court he came to Delhi to practise in the Supreme Court. Without charging a fee, he would appear on behalf of those who fought for social causes. He contested my case too without a fee.
My detention during the Emergency made me more sensitive to human suffering, and I was profoundly affected when I encountered young boys languishing in jail as under trials. I was jolted when I heard their tales of privation. Their faces haunted me. I had seen abject poverty when as a journalist I travelled through parts of UP, Bihar, and Orissa. That memory had faded with time, but violations of human rights were like arrows piercing my consciousness.
Jayaprakash Narayan had founded People’s Union of Civil Liberties (PUCL) and the Citizens for Democracy (CFD) organizations. The first was concerned with cases of human rights violations, while the second focused on the Indian democratic system and espoused causes relating to secularism, the grant of autonomy to Kashmir, and the rights of the north-eastern states, particularly Nagaland, within the Indian union.
Tarkunde persuaded me to join the CFD which I went on to head. Many years later, some undesirable elements were able to capture the organization and caused its demise. It is a terrible shame and a slur on those who worked in the organization that they purloined the Rs 1 lakh deposited in the name of the organization. I was able to revive the CFD only in the second half of 2011.
Tarkunde was a radical humanist, but his association with JP motivated him to take up the thread of parivartan from where JP had left it. Both were convinced that what was necessary for India was sampurna kranti (total revolution).
Tarkunde and I found that the youth associated with JP, particularly those from Sangharsh Vahini, remained committed to working towards a value-based system but lacked leadership. We convened a meeting of Sangharsh Vahini and other social service organizations working at grassroots, to chalk out a programme that would enable them all to work from a single platform and pursue JP’s unfinished agenda.
The meeting lasted for three days at Bodh Gaya in Bihar. It was a futile exercise and both of us felt dejected because all the time ‘points of order’ were being raised to stall the meeting. The entire atmosphere was completely vitiated and our effort ended in a whimper. To our dismay, what we found was that most of the participating NGOs were regular recipients of funds from abroad. We could see the schism between those who received money from abroad and those who did not.
Nothing came out of our deliberations, although we divided the work among five zones and selected five paid workers from among them to mobilize opinion in favour of total revolution. We hoped against hope that they would eventually work at the grassroots to organize people for sampurna kranti but were proved wrong because within a year the organizers had taken to some other vocation.
I realized at the meeting how the youth just wanted to encash the sacrifices they had made during the JP Movement. The essential truth was that the fire in their bellies had been extinguished and they were like any other individuals seeking to feather their own nest. Still many died unsung working to bring JP’s message for change true.
True, movements owe their origin to persons thrown up in particular historical circumstances, and both Gandhi during the Independence movement, and JP when he was pitted against authoritarianism, were able to take advantage of these to generate revolution. These movements nonetheless fired the middle class which took upon itself a leadership role. Sadly, consumerism has overpowered the youth today and they have given up fighting against the ills of our society.
Recently, I found the Gandhian Anna Hazare trying to revive the same spirit of defiance. His target was corruption that had corroded the vitals of the system. It was a great tribute to his simplicity and integrity that the middle class civil society for the first time after the JP Movement came on to the streets in large numbers in his support. The protest had the making of a movement for parivartan. Hazare’s concentration was on the appointment of the Lokpal (ombudsman) to combat corruption. The nation, shaken by the corruption leading up to the Commonwealth Games (CWG) and 2G spectrum allocation responded with a positive energy. The loss to the exchequer from these two instances alone was estimated at Rs 30,00,000 crore.
What was lacking in the movement was that it did not include the common man’s priority of roti, kapda aur makan. Even violations of human rights were kept out of the purview of protest. The government presented to the nation a watered down version of the Lokpal Bill which once again demonstrated that the government was not serious about tackling corruption. The administrative control of the government over the CBI (Central Bureau of Investigation) could not be acceptable to Anna because the agency was used by the party in power to put pressure to initiate one case or to suppress another. Several CBI directors have told me how they felt handicapped because of government instructions to favour the guilty.
I myself tried to find grounds for conciliation between Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and Anna Hazare on the Jan Lokpal Bill. When I heard Manmohan Singh saying on television that the government was open to a ‘discussion or dialogue’ on the Lokpal Bill placed before parliament, I saw a chink of opportunity. That very afternoon, I went to meet Hazare whom I knew a little and found him prepared for a compromise provided the three basic issues were substantially met.
The first condition was the independence of the judiciary. I suggested that a Lokpal be set up exclusively for the judiciary. Hazare readily agreed to this. The second was the inclusion of the prime minister. Hazare was willing to divide the office in two parts, one relating to governance and the other to acts of corruption. He only wanted to pursue the instance of corruption if prima facie a case was established. The third condition was the independence of the CBI. Hazare agreed to place the organization under the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court until an acceptable Lokpal Bill was passed in parliament.
I did not speak to the prime minister directly, but someone who knew him personally conveyed what Hazare had conceded. The prime minister’s reply was not helpful. He said that Hazare should put his views before the Parliamentary Standing Committee which was discussing the matter. The plea that he should invite Hazare to a special meeting of all political parties was also rejected. The entire exercise came to naught.
In the field of human rights I found the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) wanting in many respects. The exclusion of Jammu & Kashmir and the armed forces from its ambit is an obvious lacuna. Its greatest limitation is that it has no investigative mechanism of its own to investigate allegations as I discovered from experience.
There was a fake encounter at Ansal Plaza, a posh shopping centre, where two Kashmiris were killed in the basement car parking. A doctor who was a witness challenged the encounter in his statement to the press. The government did not move. I petitioned the Human Rights Commission when retired Chief Justice J.S. Verma was its chairman. He readily ordered an inquiry, but this was conducted by the very same police force that had killed the two Kashmiris in the encounter. The inquiry, the text of which the commission forwarded to me was a sham. The police reiterated its earlier stand that no fake encounter had occurred.
Another complaint I filed with the NHRC was on the return of Khalid Masood’s body to Pakistan. There were conjectures about how he died. One was that he died of torture while in detention in a prison in Gurgaon. The commission rejected the petition without any inquiry.
Yet another futile protest was on the appointment of a former CBI director to the Human Rights Commission. He had shown favour to the then Home Minister Lal Krishna Advani by dropping the case against him relating to the demolition of the Babri Masjid. I lost the case in the Supreme Court which held that a person from the police had every right
to become a member of the commission. The court missed the central issue or chose to do so.
My contact with Medha Patkar, leading an agitation against the Narmada Dam, was at her invitation to the site. When I went there I saw a temple with its long obelisk that had not yet been submerged in water. I agreed with her in principle that small dams were preferable to large ones because the extent of displacement of the population in the former was relatively lower. A network of small dams could also irrigate the same proportion of land and the devastation caused in the event of a natural disaster would also be substantially lower.
Gujaratis misunderstood the purpose of the agitation. They told me that it was ‘their Kashmir’ and that they would take to the gun if the dam was not constructed. They were hardly concerned about the rehabilitation of those who had been forcibly evicted from their homes to make way for the area of submergence.
In the Narmada case, there was an award that the people who were sought to be shifted as a consequence of the construction of the dam should be compensated with land plus a rehabilitation grant. This was not entirely implemented either in Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, or Maharashtra. Medha had reluctantly come around to accepting the height of the dam to a particular point on condition that all those who were uprooted would be fully rehabilitated and compensated. As time passed, however, we found that all the three states, in particular Madhya Pradesh, fudged the records to show that they had rehabilitated the uprooted.
Tarkunde and I were invited by Gandhians in Ahmedabad to discuss the dam. We found them all in favour of the dam to its maximum height but at the same time they assured us that the rehabilitation of the uprooted was their first concern. One of them even threatened if the dam was not constructed, Gujarat would erupt into violence. Tarkunde and I issued a statement, emphasizing that the promised rehabilitation package was an essential aspect of the construction of the dam. We also appealed to Medha Patkar and others to divert their attention from the dam to the rehabilitation of the displaced people. She surprised us by observing that she herself was concentrating on the rehabilitation aspect.
However, there was insufficient land to redistribute. Medha was so upset by this that she undertook a fast unto death. Rajinder Sachar and I were among those who sat in dharna with her at Jantar Mantar. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh called Rajinder on his mobile and sought his assistance. We both went to his house where the minister for water resources, Saifuddin Ahmed Soz, and Ahmed Patel, Sonia Gandhi’s adviser, were closeted with the prime minister. Ahmed Patel from Gujarat was supporting the line, his state had taken. Rehabilitation might have shortcomings but this should not stop the construction of the dam, he argued.
Both of us requested the prime minister to send a team headed by Soz to assess the rehabilitation in MP. He agreed and promised to stop work on the dam if the report found fault with the rehabilitation process. Medha did not give up her fast but waited for the report. Soz and Meera Kumar, who subsequently became the Lok Sabha speaker, visited MP and described the rehabilitation process as a ‘farce’. The prime minister did not stop the construction of the dam but the Supreme Court took stern notice of this and suspended construction until the rehabilitation norms had been complied with. Nevertheless, the legal wrangling did not stop the Gujarat government from building the dam to the desired height.
One night, after Rajinder and I had returned from the dharna, the police picked up Medha at night and took her forcibly to the AIIMS. With great difficulty we persuaded Medha to end her fast but the pain etched on the faces of those who had been evicted from the dam site, some of whom were present at the dharna, has remained etched in my memory, as does the remark of one of them: ‘Babuji, ham nay kabhi nehi dekha ke garib kisan ko zamin ke badle zamin mila [I have never seen a poor farmer getting land in exchange for land’].
I had a curious sense of satisfaction when I was invited in 2010 to a seminar on Narmada at Ahmedabad convened to express the view that the dam had failed to fulfill even the modest benefits expected from it. Those who were present at the seminar included Sanad Mehta and Madhav Rao Solanki. Both were once fanatically in favour of the dam.
I was also one of the demonstrators in Vienna against the Indian delegation, headed by Dr Manmohan Singh, at a conference on human rights and the environment, but I hid myself behind a tree lest Manmohan Singh should see me. I think that my class instincts got the better of me. I took many years to transform myself when I participated in virtually every dharna organized by farmers and the poor at Jantar Mantar.
Whether the Maoists violate human rights may be questioned by some but I think that their methods vitiate the end they have in view. In response to their violence, India’s democracy is being undermined. The government is enacting draconian laws and restricting legitimate democratic space. Such steps remind one of repressive periods, such as the Emergency period in India, the McCarthy era in the US, Apartheid in South Africa, the pre-unification stir in East Germany, and the Soviet Union’s repression in Hungry. The Indian government’s increasingly authoritarian measures are creating an environment where legitimate non-violent means of discussion, debate, or dissent are being relentlessly stifled.
A circular issued by the Ministry of Home Affairs on 6 May 2010 is a chilling example of moves to suppress the freedom of speech. Citing Section 39 of the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), the MHA threatened imprisonment for those who ‘supported’ Maoists, implying that ‘NGOs/intellectuals’ or other members of the public who propagate their ideology’ will be subject to punishment under this anti-terrorism law. I do not concur with the ideology of the Maoists but how can a democratic government take action against those who adhere to it.
That the circular was issued shortly after the publication of reports on the Maoists by prominent writers and activists Arundhati Roy and Gautam Navlakha, Delhi editor of the highly respected academic periodical Economic and Political Weekly, indicate that the government’s threat was targeted directly at them and others seeking to critically examine the issue of Maoist violence and the state’s response to it. I also criticized the Public Safety Act.
I received a letter from Home Minister P. Chidambaram questioning my arguments on the contraction of democratic space. He said: ‘Nevertheless, it may be remembered that the power is vested in the Court and not in the Executive Government. It is the Court hearing the bail application that will decide whether bail should be granted or not, and if the bail is not granted, what should be the period of custody of the accused.’
In my reply I said: ‘This legislation is so draconian and anti-democratic that any one committed to the rights of individuals and human rights will face serious embarrassment amongst groups discussing India’s commitment to human rights. It is this personal pain that I was pointing out in my article and I hope you will consider it in that light as home minister of our country. The detention of Binayak Sen under the UAPA points to its indiscriminate and partisan use.’
I thought that the violence attributed to Dr Binayak Sen, a medical practitioner in Chhattisgarh, was an alibi to cover up his detention under the Public Safety Act. I wrote to Chhattisgarh Chief Minister Raman Singh seeking Binayak’s transfer to Vellore hospital for better medical attention. I was aware that the chief minister’s pet child was the Salwa Judum, a force he constituted to let people ‘defend’ themselves against ‘violence’ by the Naxalites. This force, declared illegal by the Supreme Court, has been above the law and indulges in all manner of activities, including violence, against the Maoists or those the government regards as Maoists. What the chief minister has really done is to pit adivasis against adivasis, changing a peaceful environment into a land of violence and murder with the authorities playing a dubious and negative role.
We are witnessing a virtual war in the hitherto peaceful and tranquil forests. The area of conflict is steadily growing. It is no secret that the state has arrayed a formidable paramilitary force against the Maoists who are portrayed as the most dangerous internal security
threat to India. The worst affected area is the Dandakaranya region, which was promised a ‘special deal’ by Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru in 1958 while inaugurating the Dandakaranya Development Authority, beginning with the settlement of displaced persons from Bangladesh. That promise was, however, soon forgotten.
I do not approve of the cult of violence that the Maoists have adopted. A murder is a murder whatever the name you give it. Mahatma Gandhi said that if your means are vitiated so are your ends bound to be. Any goal achieved by wading through a pool of blood is not worth achieving. Disregarding the means is the essence of dictatorship; democracy represents the will of the people, not through the bullet but through the ballot. The killings in which the Maoists have indulged cannot in any way be justified, and indeed through such acts they have distorted the very economic philosophy which they represent: From each according to his capacity and to each according to his need.
The sense of growing authoritarianism is also indicated in the recent killing of CPI (Maoist) spokesman Azad (Cherukuri Rajkumar), along with a journalist Hemchandra Pandey, in what was labelled an ‘encounter’. Before Azad was killed he was reportedly in correspondence with Home Minister P. Chidambaram through an intermediary, Swami Agnivesh, in an attempt to broker a temporary ceasefire and initiate talks between the government and the Maoists. He told me he had a terrible experience and described the government as ‘dishonest in its efforts’. The killing of Azad cast serious doubts on the state’s professed intention to debate the issue. He had provided insights into the Maoist ideology, motivations, and strategy. Azad was attempting to garner support amongst Maoists to initiate talks with the government.
The Maoist violence is more than a law and order problem and requires solutions that address social and economic inequalities. The state, however, continues to push ahead with its increasingly authoritarian approach to tackle the problem. It is no secret that arrayed against the Maoists, who are portrayed as the worst internal security threat in the country, the maximum possible police and paramilitary force the state can muster is used and justified.