पंचायत ऑब्जर्वर

WORLD INDIGENOUS DAY: WHEN CELEBRATION DROWNS OUT THE CRY FOR JUSTICE

CHHANDOSREE

A Day of Colour, Rhythm—and Forgetfulness
Every year, on August 9th, the world celebrates International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples. The stages are set, tribal melodies fill the air, traditional dancers in vibrant attire take over the spotlight, and speeches flow like rivers of rehearsed rhetoric. This day has become a symbol—a symbolic nod to the cultural richness, philosophical wisdom, and ecological balance that Indigenous communities embody. They are living reminders to humankind that there is another way to exist on this planet: through coexistence, shared resources, and mindful consumption.

But in the swirl of this celebration, we must ask ourselves: are we reducing this day to a mere cultural festival? Are we conveniently forgetting the enduring struggles of Indigenous peoples—struggles for land, dignity, and constitutional rights? Shouldn’t this day be, above all else, a call to responsibility—for the nation, the state, the government, and society—to move beyond viewing Indigenous people as just a ‘backward category’ and instead recognize them as rightful, equal stakeholders in the democratic fabric of the country?

Coexistence vs. Colonialism: Two Worldviews in Conflict

Indigenous life has always been rooted in intimate harmony with land, water, forests, and all living beings. It is a civilization that does not speak the language of ownership but of partnership.
In stark contrast, the modern state and its development paradigms are born out of colonial logic—where nature is no longer sacred but reduced to a ‘resource,’ and man its ‘consumer.’ This fundamental clash of philosophies is what repeatedly pushes tribal communities into cycles of displacement, suppression, and systemic neglect.

Take the example of Dharali—a picturesque village in the Uttarkashi district of Uttarakhand, known for its apple orchards and Himalayan serenity. Recently, the region was devastated by torrential rains and cloudbursts. The Bhagirathi River swelled to monstrous levels, swallowing homes, bridges, and farms that once thrived along its banks.

But Dharali’s tragedy is not an isolated event. It is a red flag—a warning of the environmental chaos that is gripping the entire Himalayan region. Rampant deforestation, mindless construction, and climate change have pushed such once-pristine areas to the brink. And yet, we choose not to listen to nature’s scream.

When the State Becomes the Encroacher

Most of India’s mineral wealth, water reserves, and forests are located in regions heavily populated by Indigenous communities—Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, Madhya Pradesh, Nagaland, Mizoram, Tripura, and others.

This is not a coincidence, but a historical tragedy. These areas are ground zero for mining projects, dams, industrial corridors, and mega-infrastructure dreams. All these come at the cost of the Indigenous people—uprooting them from their lands, destroying their social and spiritual worlds, and tearing apart their autonomous systems of governance.

Take the ongoing battle for Hasdeo Aranya in Chhattisgarh. Just days before World Indigenous Day, thousands of Adivasis are protesting to save this sacred forest from coal mining. The state government has approved the extension of the Parsa East Kente Basan coal mine, requiring the destruction of over 1,742 hectares of dense forest land. The approval was granted after a questionable site inspection by a district forest officer in Sarguja.
If implemented, this project will wreak further havoc in already devastated zones. According to official estimates, more than 450,000 trees will be cut down. This is no ordinary forest—it is rich in indigenous tree species crucial for carbon absorption and ecological stability. Prior mining activities have already polluted the region’s soil and water bodies.

But the forest is not just an ecosystem for Adivasis—it is their temple, their medicine cabinet, their wedding altar, their cemetery. Every tree, every rock, every stream is a living deity, an ancestor, a guardian. When a mountain is handed over to a corporation, it is not just a transfer of land—it is the abandonment of an entire civilization.

Since 1950, nearly 50 million people have been displaced due to development projects. Over 40% of them are from tribal communities. In Jharkhand alone, more than 1.2 million people have been uprooted from their land in the last two decades. The Forest Rights Act (2006), which was meant to safeguard their rights, has seen over 70% of claims either stuck in limbo or outright rejected.

Culture as a Cage: The New Colonialism

We proudly exhibit ‘tribal culture’ at festivals, tourism events, and exhibitions—their songs, their dances, their attire, their cuisine. But we conveniently forget that this culture was never just about aesthetics. It was built on political autonomy and community ownership of resources.

Take the PESA Act (1996), for instance. It empowers village assemblies (Gram Sabhas) to make decisions on mining, land acquisition, liquor sales, and social justice. The Forest Rights Act grants collective forest rights to tribal communities. The Fifth Schedule of the Constitution gives special powers to Governors to protect tribal interests in Scheduled Areas.

Yet these constitutional guarantees are either not implemented or are regularly violated by state policies. Their power remains on paper, not in practice.

What Should World Indigenous Day Truly Mean?

World Indigenous Day is not a “cultural showcase.” It is a day of political reckoning. A moral reminder.
It must force us to ask:

Have we reduced Indigenous communities to just folk performers and craft makers?
Are our constitutional articles—like 244, PESA, FRA—just decorative entries in legal textbooks?
Are Gram Sabhas truly empowered, or just puppets in the illusion of decentralization?
Do we still believe that progress must come at the expense of Indigenous existence?

A New Definition of Development
If we wish to call India a true democracy, we must redefine the very meaning of development. Real progress is that which gains consent from local communities, emerges from decisions of Gram Sabhas, and respects ecological balance. Justice and rights must come before GDP and growth charts.
Indigenous people must not be token participants—they must be decision-makers.
Adivasi Women: The Worst Hit
The Indigenous woman—both guardian of the forest and backbone of her society—suffers the deepest wounds of displacement. The forest is her pantry, pharmacy, fuel supply, safe space, and source of dignity.
Yet, when it comes to planning ‘development,’ she is rendered invisible. Though both PESA and FRA mention women’s participation, on the ground they are often denied even the right to speak in the Gram Sabha.
The Way Forward

State governments must ensure full and honest implementation of PESA and FRA.
No land acquisition, mining, or industrial project should proceed without the informed consent of Gram Sabhas.
Tribal youth and women must receive comprehensive education on their constitutional rights.
The judiciary and bureaucracy must develop sensitivity towards Indigenous perspectives.
Media and academic institutions must go beyond showcasing culture and report the real, lived struggles of tribal communities.

A Day to Take an Oath
World Indigenous Day must not be a day of decoration—it must be a day of determination. A vow that Indigenous communities will not be reduced to ‘festival objects’ but honored as ‘subjects of justice.’
It is not a celebration. It is a solemn responsibility—for those children of nature whose lands are mined without compensation, whose languages are vanishing, but whose wisdom still holds the key to life in harmony with Earth.
So, on August 9, when you hear the rhythm of the dhol and the mandar, don’t just hear music—listen to the voices behind it. Listen for the cry of resistance, the whisper of ancestral rights, the pulse of a people fighting not just to survive—but to be seen.
(EoM)