A
response to Brinda Karat's article in The Hindu (1 June)
Brinda
Karat's article, "The majoritarian shadow over Adivasi identity,
faith" published in The Hindu on 1 June, raises important questions about
tribal identity, religion, and constitutional rights. However, the article is
marked by a selective reading of realities on the ground and an unmistakable
hostility towards the Janjati Suraksha Manch (JSM), an organisation founded and
led primarily by tribal individuals themselves. While presenting herself as a
defender of Adivasi rights, Karat ends up reducing a complex civilisational and
cultural issue into a simplistic political narrative of "majoritarianism
versus minorities."
As
someone who comes from one of the remotest tribal regions of India and has
lived within the realities of tribal society rather than observing them from
ideological distance, I find this portrayal deeply inadequate and, in several
respects, misleading.
The
central weakness of Karat's argument is that she treats the growing concern
over religious conversions among tribal communities as if it were merely an
extension of a majoritarian political project. In doing so, she completely
ignores the genuine anxieties of countless tribal families who have witnessed
the gradual erosion of their traditional belief systems, customs, rituals,
festivals, and community institutions under the influence of organised
missionary activity.
The
issue is not whether an individual has the constitutional right to choose a
religion. Article 25 of the Constitution guarantees precisely that freedom. The
real question is whether conversions achieved through inducement, dependency
networks, social pressure, material incentives, educational monopolies, or
cultural delegitimisation can genuinely be described as exercises of free
choice. This is a question that deserves honest engagement rather than
ideological dismissal.
For
decades, Christian missionary organisations belonging to different
denominations have systematically expanded their presence across the tribal
belt of Central India. Having achieved significant success in many parts of the
North-East, their focus increasingly shifted towards tribal communities in
Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, and adjoining
regions. Today, it is difficult to find a tribal district in Central India
where missionary institutions do not exercise considerable influence over
social, educational, and religious life.
To
point out this reality is not a form of communalism. It is simply acknowledging
a sociological fact.
The
concern expressed by organisations such as the Janjati Suraksha Manch emerges
from this lived reality. Contrary to the portrayal offered by Karat, JSM was
not created by some external force seeking to impose an alien identity upon
tribal communities. It emerged from within tribal society itself. Its members
include individuals who fear that indigenous traditions inherited over
centuries may disappear within a few generations if current trends continue
unchecked.
Those
who have grown up in tribal villages understand that tribal identity is not
merely an ethnic label. It is intimately connected with sacred groves,
ancestral deities, village festivals, collective rituals, oral traditions, and
a worldview centred around nature. Forests, rivers, mountains, and ancestral
spirits are not symbolic abstractions; they form the living foundation of
community life.
When
conversion occurs, what often follows is not merely a change of personal faith.
Traditional rituals are abandoned, ancestral practices are denounced as
"pagan" or "backward," village festivals lose participants,
and social institutions that once bound communities together begin to fragment.
This cultural transformation cannot be wished away by invoking constitutional
rhetoric alone.
Ironically,
while Karat speaks passionately about preserving Adivasi identity, she remains
conspicuously silent about the role that organised missionary activity has
played in weakening many of the very cultural traditions she claims to defend.
One searches her article in vain for any serious reflection on this aspect.
Equally
absent from her analysis is the question of constitutional safeguards available
to Scheduled Tribes. The debate surrounding the extension of provisions
analogous to those applicable to Scheduled Castes is undoubtedly complex and
deserves careful discussion. Yet it cannot be denied that a growing section of
tribal society feels that converted individuals continue to enjoy benefits
intended to protect vulnerable tribal communities while simultaneously becoming
part of a separate religious minority framework.
Whether
one agrees with this concern or not, it deserves reasoned debate rather than
caricature.
Having
said this, there is one aspect of Karat's article that cannot be dismissed
outright. She is correct in drawing attention to the continuing dispossession
of tribal communities through mining projects, land acquisition, and failures
in implementing protective legislation such as the provisions of the Panchayats
(Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act (PESA) and the Forest Rights Act, 2006.
Indeed,
this is one of the greatest challenges confronting tribal India today.
Across
the country, tribal communities have repeatedly witnessed forests being
diverted, mountains being excavated, rivers being polluted, and ancestral lands
being acquired in the name of development. These are not merely economic
resources for tribal communities. They are sacred landscapes inhabited by their
deities, ancestors, and collective memories.
Any
development model that treats tribal territories merely as repositories of
minerals while ignoring their cultural and spiritual significance is
fundamentally flawed.
The
implementation of PESA and the Forest Rights Act must therefore be strengthened
in both letter and spirit. Gram Sabhas must be empowered rather than bypassed.
Free, prior, and informed consent must become a meaningful reality rather than
a bureaucratic formality. If mineral extraction is undertaken, tribal
communities must receive a substantial and lasting share of the benefits
generated from resources extracted from their lands.
Token
employment opportunities and occasional compensation packages cannot substitute
for genuine economic participation and decision-making power.
Unfortunately,
the beneficiaries of many extractive projects are often not the nation as a
whole but a nexus of corporate interests, political influence, and local power
brokers. Tribal communities frequently bear the environmental and cultural
costs while receiving only a fraction of the benefits.
Yet
acknowledging this reality does not require us to ignore another reality.
The
exploitation of tribal lands and the erosion of tribal faith traditions are not
mutually exclusive concerns. Both can exist simultaneously. One cannot be used
to excuse or conceal the other.
This
is where Karat's article falls short. By focusing almost exclusively on alleged
majoritarian threats, she overlooks the profound cultural consequences of
organised conversion efforts among tribal communities. In her eagerness to
defend missionary activity from criticism, she neglects the voices of those
tribal men and women who seek to preserve their indigenous traditions and who
view conversion as a serious challenge to their cultural continuity.
The
future of tribal India cannot be secured through ideological binaries. It
requires a commitment to protecting tribal faith traditions, strengthening
constitutional safeguards, implementing PESA and the Forest Rights Act
effectively, preventing coercive or inducement-based conversions, and ensuring
that development occurs with the consent and participation of tribal
communities.
The
defence of jal, jungle, zameen and the defence of tribal civilisational
heritage are not competing causes. They are inseparable.
Those
who genuinely care about Adivasi rights must be willing to defend both.
