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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron...

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron (DRI) and pellet plant. This ‘green steel’ project, part of LMEL’s push for an integrated steel complex in the region, is functioning not just as an industrial unit but as a crucial pillar in the Maharashtra government’s surrender-cum-rehabilitation policy. So far, LMEL, in coordination with the state government and the Gadchiroli Police, has provided employment and training to 68 surrendered Maoists and 14 members of families affected by Naxal violence, a total of 82 individuals, offering them a definitive pathway back to the mainstream. The Shift The transformation begins at the company’s dedicated Lloyds Skill Development and Training Centre at Konsari. Recognizing that many former cadres had limited formal education, the company implements a structured, skill-based rehabilitation model. They are trained in essential technical and operational skills required for plant administration, civil construction, and mechanical operations. For individuals like Govinda Atala, a former deputy commander, the change is palpable. “After surrendering, I got the right to live a new life,” Atala said. “I am very happy to get this job. I am now living my life on my own; there is no pressure on me now.” Suresh Hichame, who spent over a decade in the movement before surrendering in 2009 too echoed the sentiments. He realized the path of violence offered neither him nor his family any benefit. Moreover, his self-respecct was hurt. He knew several languages and carried out several crucial tasks for the banned organization remaining constantly under the shadow of death. Today, he works in the plant, receiving a steady monthly salary that enables him to care for his family—a basic dignity the ‘Red Ideology’ could never provide. The monthly salaries of the rehabilitated workers, typically ranging from Rs 13,000 to Rs 20,000, are revolutionary in a region long characterized by poverty and lack of opportunities. Trust, Stability The employment of former Maoists is a brave and calculated risk for LMEL, an industry that historically faced stiff opposition and even violence from the left wing extremist groups. LMEL’s management, however, sees it as an investment in inclusive growth and long-term stability for the district. The LMEL has emphasized the company’s commitment to training and facilitating career growth for the local populace, including the surrendered cadres. This commitment to local workforce upskilling is proving to be a highly effective counter-insurgency strategy, chipping away at the foundation of the Maoist movement: the exploitation of local grievances and lack of economic options. The reintegration effort extends beyond the factory floor. By providing stable incomes and a sense of purpose, LMEL helps the former rebels navigate the social transition. They are now homeowners, taxpayers, and active members of the community, replacing the identity of an outlaw with that of a respected employee. This social acceptance, coupled with economic independence, is the true measure of rehabilitation. The successful employment of cadres, some of whom were once high-ranking commanders, also sends a powerful message to those still active in the jungle: the path to a peaceful and prosperous life is open and tangible. It transforms the promise of government rehabilitation into a concrete reality. The plant, with its production of iron ore and steel, is physically transforming the region into an emerging industrial hub, and in doing so, it is symbolically forging the nation’s progress out of the ashes of extremism. The coordinated effort between private industry, the state government, and the Gadchiroli police is establishing a new environment of trust, stability, and economic progress, marking Gadchiroli’s transition from a Maoist hotbed to a model of inclusive and sustainable development.

On the Brink

Mamata Banerjee’s cynical brand of communal appeasement has turned West Bengal into a powderkeg of sectarian violence.

West Bengal
West Bengal

Few Indian chief ministers have built a cult of personality quite like Mamata Banerjee. But fewer still have done so by playing with the matchbox of identity politics in a region already soaked in the kerosene of sectarian tension. West Bengal’s recent descent into deadly violence, sparked by protests against the Waqf (Amendment) Act, has exposed the dangerous underbelly of Banerjee’s political strategy - relentless minority appeasement dressed as secularism, and a studied ambivalence when the state’s integrity is under siege.


Three people, including a father and son, have been killed in Murshidabad as per reports. Police vans have been torched, stones hurled, roads blocked and security forces injured. The rule of law has taken a backseat to the rule of mobs – a familiar scene in West Bengal.


Banerjee, in typical defiance of the BJP-ruled Centre, has made clear the Waqf Act, passed by both Houses of Parliament and signed into law by the President of India, would not be implemented in West Bengal.


This is not a principled stance on federalism but a political calculation aimed at maintaining a carefully cultivated vote bank. This time, Banerjee’s declaration is no mere administrative defiance but an incitement cloaked in victimhood.


Her message seems to be that the law is Delhi’s burden which Bengal’s Muslims need not obey. Unsurprisingly, this was interpreted by radical groups as a wink and a nod.


In most of the country, protests over the Waqf amendments have remained peaceful or non-existent. But in Bengal, Muslim-dominated areas like Murshidabad, have exploded into violence.


Banerjee and her nephew, Trinamool Congress MP Abhishek Banerjee, have accused shadowy forces of sowing discord to malign Bengal. But it is their own politics of patronage, communal tokenism, and selective outrage that have eroded public trust. Their habitual finger-pointing at the Centre, rather than quelling unrest, has normalised it. Banerjee insists her hands are clean. Yet intelligence reports had warned of possible unrest and her administration did little to pre-empt it.


Over the years, the TMC, as part of its appeasement game has shielded radical clerics and turned a blind eye to the mushrooming of sectarian outfits, thereby encouraging a culture of impunity. Law and order, a constitutionally mandated responsibility of the state, is generally outsourced to central forces only after the house is already ablaze.


Banerjee, with her lethal politics, has turned Bengal into a laboratory for a perverse kind of secularism that tolerates intolerance so long as it comes wrapped in minority garb. When protestors burn buses and stone police, the state dithers. When Hindus are attacked in communal flare-ups, the government responds with silence or spin.


In refusing to enforce the Waqf Act, Banerjee has not only pandered to fringe elements but also undermined the authority of Parliament and the President. That her defiance came in the midst of violent protests is doubly damning as it legitimises lawlessness as a bargaining chip in electoral politics.


The BJP, for its part, has seized on the unrest to bolster its claim that the Trinamool government is appeasement-driven and anti-Hindu. But grandstanding alone will not solve Bengal’s deeper malaise with currently reels under a fractured civic identity, corrupted state machinery and a ruling party that sees governance as theatre and populism as policy.


West Bengal has long been a land of contradictions: intellectual yet combustible, proud yet divided. But under Mamata Banerjee, it is increasingly becoming a cautionary tale of how populism and identity politics, when cynically mixed, can rot the foundations of democracy. This is not the Bengal of Vivekananda, Tagore or Syama Prasad Mookerjee. It is a Bengal teetering on the edge - abandoned by its leaders, preyed upon by extremists and betrayed by the very state that claims to protect it. Unless CM Banerjee course-corrects swiftly, Bengal’s fire will not remain contained.

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