Sunday, March 29, 2026

 

West Bengal: Growing Distress of Potato Farmers



 


Farmers across several districts, most of them under heavy debt, are struggling to find buyers for their produce as prices drop.

 

Farmers harvesting potatoes and piling them up in the fields. This image was taken in the field of Raibaghini village in Kululpur Block of Bankura . Photo by Madhu Sudan Chatterjee

Across rural Bengal, a deep sense of uncertainty has begun to take hold among potato farmers this season. What is usually a time of relief after months of labour has instead turned into a period marked by anxiety, financial strain, and difficult questions about survival.

Due to a continuous drop in market prices of potatoes following the harvest, farmers across several districts are struggling to find buyers for their produce. Those who invested heavily in potato cultivation are now living in a state of extreme uncertainty. A majority of these farmers had taken loans to fund their cultivation. With the market collapsing, they are now haunted by the question of how to repay their debts while sustaining their families.

In the midst of this deepening crisis, a disturbing rise in deaths among potato farmers has cast a dark shadow across the state. Over 15 days, four farmers in Bengal have reportedly died due to distress in the agrarian sector. On March 11, a marginal farmer Rakhal Ari, 28, from Rangamati village in Chadrakona 1 block of Paschim Medinipur district died by suicide after consuming pesticide at his home. Earlier, a farmer named Sahadeb Pal, 54, from Amrapath village in Goghat 2 block under Hooghly district also reportedly took his own life. In a similar tragedy, an elderly farmer, Shailen Ghose, 78, from Kadipara village in Kalna 2 block under Purbo Bardhaman died by hanging himself. On Monday, March 23, morning, 35-year-old sharecropper Haripada Bag of Jharul village in Chandrakona 1 block under Paschim Medinipur district collapsed and died in his fields. He was reportedly unable to bear the sight of the potatoes he had cultivated rotting in the fields. 

It can be said that lakhs of potato farmers across West Bengal now stand on the brink of ruin, staring into a precipice of complete devastation. Who will save them? This haunting question now echoes across every corner of the state.

The price of potatoes is falling rapidly every day. On March 24, the price of the most popular Jyoti variety of potatoes was Rs 600 per quintal, yet there were no buyers. Nearly 40% of this year’s potato production is still lying in the fields, with no buyers in sight. What will happen to unsold produce continues to haunt thousands of farmers.

The scale of distress facing potato farmers in West Bengal came into sharp focus on Tuesday, as a voice from one of state’s key potato-growing belts painted a grim picture. In Raibaghini village under Kotulpur block of Bankura district, farmer Jayanta Mallik laid bare the harsh economics crushing cultivators.

“A tractor load of potatoes, about 50 quintals, fetches barely Rs 5,000 in the market,” he told this writer, adding “transporting that same load to a cold storage facility costs another Rs 5,000 in tractor rent alone”.  The burden does not end there. Farmers spend Rs 30 per sack to pack 50 kilograms of potatoes, while storage charges at cold facilities stand at Rs 184 per quintal. With input coasts far outstripping returns, cultivators say they are being pushed to the brink.

“Just think about where we have reached”, Mallik said, his voice heavy with despair. “Soon, we may have to step out with begging bowls,” he added.

Govt Measures and Gaps on Ground

The situation has raised serious concern among potato farmers across the state. In response to falling prices, the State Agriculture Marketing Department issued a directive on February 13 stating that the government would procure potatoes from farmers holding Krishak Bandhu cards at a rate of ₹950 per quintal. Each farmer would be allowed to sell up to 35 quintals (70 packets) of potatoes to the government.

According to the directive, the procured potatoes would be stored under the supervision of the respective District Magistrates. Cold storage facilities were also instructed to keep 30% of their capacity vacant until March 25 to accommodate government procurement.

However, despite the announcement, government procurement has reportedly taken place in only one or two areas in the state. In most areas, farmers say that no potatoes have been purchased so far. As a result, they are being forced to store their produce in cold storages at a heavy loss. Most storage facilities are already filled to capacity, leaving farmers with few options.

A Wider Structural Crisis

Uttar Pradesh is the largest producer of potatoes in India, followed by West Bengal. The state has vast tracts of suitable soil and favourable weather conditions for potato cultivation. Every year, between the first and last week of November, different varieties of potato seeds are planted across West Bengal.

The leading potato-producing districts include Hooghly, Purba and Paschim Bardhaman, Paschim Medinipur and Bankura. Other significant potato-growing districts are Howrah, Jhargram, Birbhum, Murshidabad, Jalpaiguri, Alipurduar, Uttar Dinajpur and Nadia.

Several varieties of potatoes are cultivated in Bengal, including Jyoti, Pokhraj, Himanggini, S-6, Chandramukhi and K-22. Among these, Jyoti is the most widely cultivated and has the highest market demand.

According to reliable sources in the Agriculture Department, this year potatoes have been cultivated on 5.14 lakh hectares. The state government estimates that total potato production, including all varieties, will reach 140–150 lakh tonnes. This is a 20% rise over last year and marks a new record for potato production in the state.

Nearly 10 lakh families in the state are involved in potato cultivation. The 496 cold storage facilities have a total capacity of 82 lakh tonnes. Farmers are unable to figure out how prices will improve for potatoes that cannot be stored in cold storage. At most, 16 crore 40 lakh packets of potatoes (each weighing 50 kg) can be stored, whereas total production this year has reached nearly 26 crore packets.

“Where will the remaining potatoes go?” questioned Lalu Mukherjee, state secretary of Paschimbanga Pragatisheel Alu Byabsayi Samity.

Voices from Different Districts

“No one is quoting a fair price for potatoes. The rates are falling every day. It’s impossible to store all the produce in cold storages, so we are leaving the harvested potatoes in the fields, covered with straw, hoping prices will improve. But due to lack of buyers, these potatoes are now rotting,” said Tapan Maity from Parshura in Hooghly district.

He said Chandramukhi potatoes are priced at around ₹600 per quintal, Jyoti at ₹100, while Pokhraj, Hemalini and Colombo varieties are not finding buyers even at ₹50 per quintal.

Farmers Jayanta Mallik and SubashKundu from Raibaghini village of Kotulpur in Bankura district echoed similar distress. Large quantities of potatoes remain unsold in the fields. They further pointed out that even the cost of synthetic bags has surged, with a 50 kg sack now costing ₹25-30.

“If we earn barely ₹30 from selling a sack of potatoes (50kg) and have to spend ₹25 just to buy the bag, what are we left with?” they said, adding “We are being pushed into complete ruin.”

Regarding the state government’s directive asking cold storage owners to procure potatoes directly from farmers, several owners from Bankura, Medinipur and Hooghly districts expressed concern that they would need to take loans from banks to do so.

“In that case, the government must act as the guarantor for those loans. Otherwise, if prices fall further, how will we repay the debt?” they questioned.

Despite these challenges, some cold storages in Hooghly and Medinipur have already begun purchasing potatoes. However, in districts like Bankura, the process is yet to start.

Limits of Relief Measures

The reality is that the government will not procure potatoes from all farmers. Purchases will be limited only to those who possess a Krishak Bandhu card. Moreover, there is a cap—only up to 35 quintals of potatoes will be bought from each farmer.

On average, potato yields this season have reached 50–60 quintals per bigha. With such production levels, farmers are left wondering where they will sell the remaining surplus.

A significant number of farmers do not have Krishak Bandhu cards, as many of them are sharecroppers. What will happen to them?

Adding to their distress, the government directive states that potatoes weighing less than 35 grams will not be procured. This raises yet another pressing question—what will become of the smaller-grade produce?

With no visible relief or clear solution in sight, the crisis facing Bengal’s potato farmers is deepening with each passing moment.

Life in Rangamati Village

Rangamati village, about 60 km north of Medinipur and around 10 km from Chandrakona town, is predominantly inhabited by Scheduled Caste (SC) communities largely dependent on agriculture for livelihood. There are no big landowners in the village.

“Most families in this village received pattas (permanent land titles) for government land during the Left Front regime. Earlier, we had to travel outside in search of work. After receiving the land titles, many agricultural labourers gradually became cultivators,” said Sanjay Bhuiya, a marginal farmer from Rangamati village. He said most villagers own no more than 4–5 bighas of cultivation land.

Another major problem in the area is that during the monsoon, floodwaters from the Shilaboti River often damage crops. Every year, paddy cultivation suffers significant losses due to flooding, and this year too farmers’ paddy crops were damaged.

“Last year, too, farmers did not receive a fair price for potatoes, although the losses were slightly lower. This year, however, the situation has been unfavourable right from the beginning. Potato production has been exceptionally high, reaching levels never seen before. Yet the pressing question is: where are the buyers?” said Tapan Pandit, a farmer from Rangamati village.

Scenes from the Fields

A visit to the village fields reveals a grim but quiet reality. Farmers, with downcast faces, continue harvesting potatoes under a cloud of uncertainty.

Batul Gurat, along with his wife Ila Gurat and their sons Anupam and Subham and daughter Tiya, were seen digging out potatoes from their land. In the adjoining field, TarapadaDalui, Animesh Badui, Kamala and Chhabi Ari were engaged in the same backbreaking task.

“We have spent nearly ₹30,000 per bigha to cultivate potatoes. Now the market sell price has fallen to ₹200 per quintal. We are staring at massive losses,” they said.

“Who will buy our produce? All of us are heading towards ruin. Who will save us?”

They added that leaving potatoes underground would only lead to further spoilage, forcing them to harvest despite losses.

“We cannot even afford to hire farm labourers. How will we get the money to pay their wages? We do not know what the future holds for us,” they said.

A Family’s Struggle

In Majhpara of the village stands the home of a marginal farmer whose family now sits silently on the veranda, overcome with grief and uncertainty. He was the sole earning member of the family. Left behind are his elderly mother, his wife, and two minor children.

“We have only 10 kathas of our own land. He had taken about three and a half bighas of land on share to cultivate potatoes. Now everything is ruined,” said his mother, Archana Ari, breaking down.

She recalled how she had struggled to raise her children after her husband passed away when her son was still in her womb. Over time, he became the sole support of the family.

His wife, Rita Ari, sat silently beside their two sons—Ananda, a Class VI student, and Abir, a Class II student.

“Before cultivating potatoes this year, my husband had pawned some of my jewellery to borrow money at interest. He also had outstanding debts at fertiliser and seed shops. For cultivation, he borrowed additional cash, promising that once the potatoes were harvested, he would repay all debts and redeem my jewellery,” she said.

She recalled how they harvested potatoes from their land together. A trader had promised to buy at ₹400 per quintal, but later reduced the price to ₹250.

“My husband was completely shattered,” she said, pointing to empty potato sacks lying unused.

“The cost of cultivation was nearly ₹30,000 per bigha. We produced around 60 quintals per bigha. If the price drops to ₹200 per quintal, we stand to incur a loss of nearly ₹20,000 per bigha,” she explained.

Administration and Response

In connection with the incident, Prasenjit Maity, the Krishi Karmadhyaksha of Chandrakona 1 Panchayat Samiti, stated that there are 48,753 farmers in the block who hold Krishak Bandhu cards.

“The government has announced procurement of potatoes from farmers; however, cold storage facilities are yet to begin purchasing. This has naturally led to a crisis situation. Moreover, with bumper production this season, prices have been falling steadily every day. We are unable to understand how to resolve this crisis at the moment. Farmers are suffering from deep distress,” he said.

Meanwhile, Block Development Officer Krishnendu Biswas stated that the administration is aware of the situation and has taken initiatives to procure potatoes.

Farmer organisations have also raised demands for higher procurement prices and compensation for affected families.

When Distress Turns into Tragedy

Amid this prolonged crisis, the strain on farmers has continued to intensify. Within a short span of time in March, three potato farmers in Bengal lost their lives.

Rakhal Ari (28) from Rangamati village in Paschim Medinipur, Sahadeb Nandi (57) from Hooghly district, and Sailen Ghose (78) from Kalna Block 2 were among those who died.

Their deaths have sent shockwaves across farming communities, deepening the sense of fear and uncertainty among others who are facing similar circumstances.

For many farmers across Bengal, the question remains unresolved—not just about prices or procurement, but about survival itself.

“A few years ago, potatoes from Bengal were exported to other states for sale. However, for the past three years, the state government has put a stop to this. As a result, the state has led to the crisis worsening to a severe level,” said Lalu Mukherjee, state secretary of Paschimbanga Pragatisheel Alu Byabsayi samity.  He said neither farmers nor traders have any clear idea of how the potato situation will unfold this year. According to him, they are all standing on the brink of a potential disaster.

The writer covers the Jangalmahal region for ‘Ganashakti’ newspaper in West Bengal.

Bengal Elections: Voter Purge Hits Muslim Districts Hardest


Sandip Chakraborty | 


For millions of voters across five Muslim-majority districts, the search for their names on ECI’s list has become an exercise in dread.



Representational Image. Image Courtesy: PTI

Kolkata: At midnight on March 23, the Election Commission of India (ECI) quietly uploaded a document to its website. It was called a "first supplementary list" — the latest output of the Special Intensive Revision, or SIR, of Bengal's electoral rolls. Within hours, the portal crashed under the weight of people trying to find their names.

For millions of voters across five Muslim-majority districts, that search has become an exercise in dread. Weeks before Assembly elections scheduled to begin April 23, West Bengal is in the grip of the most sweeping episode of disenfranchisement in its post-Independence history — and possibly the country's.

The Scale

The numbers are extraordinary. Over 63.66 lakh names were deleted from Bengal's final electoral rolls published on February 28. That is more than 8.3% of the entire electorate, drawn from a registered base of 7.66 crore voters. Another 60 lakh remain trapped in a category called "Under Adjudication" — their voting rights frozen, no reasons given, no functioning appeals mechanism in place.

Five districts account for over 58% of all adjudicated names: Murshidabad (11.01 lakh), Malda (8.28 lakh), North 24 Parganas (5.91 lakh), South 24 Parganas (5.22 lakh), and Uttar Dinajpur (4.80 lakh). Each has a large Muslim population. The geographic clustering is not incidental — it is the story.

In Lalgola, a constituency where more than three in four residents are Muslim, one polling booth with a 99% Muslim electorate saw over 15% of its voters flagged. A Hindu-majority booth nearby had 2 flagged out of 622.

In Raghunathganj, nearly half of all registered voters were placed under adjudication. Among those whose cases were resolved in the supplementary list, 22.6% were deleted outright — with some booths recording 100% deletion rates among adjudicated cases.

"This is not a voter list revision," said Sabir Ahamed of the Pratichi Institute. "This is a citizenship audit conducted against one community — without notice, and without remedy."

A BLO Who Lost His Own Vote

Mohammad Shafiul Alam spent months going door to door in Bashirhat. As a Booth Level Officer or BLO — an official appointed by the Election Commission itself — he helped voters fill the SIR forms, digitised entries, and ensured compliance. He was, in every formal sense, an instrument of the process.

When the supplementary list came out, his own name was missing.

"I helped others and lost my own vote," he said. "There is no reason mentioned. I have been told to reapply within 15 days."

His parents' names appear in the 2002 SIR rolls — the very benchmark the Commission uses for validation. His documents were complete. None of it mattered.

Fear Along the Bhagirathi

In the villages of Murshidabad, SIR is not experienced as paperwork. It is experienced as fear.

Families that have voted for three generations are being flagged for what officials call "logical discrepancies" — a phrase that has never been officially defined. The Bhagirathi riverbank towns of Domkol and Raghunathganj have seen booth after booth with deletion rates that civil society groups describe as unprecedented.

A weaver in Domkol, who has voted in every election since he turned eighteen, put it plainly: "My grandfather voted here. My father voted here. I have voted here every election. Now they say there is a discrepancy. What is the logic? That I am Muslim?"

Between November 2025 and January 2026, more than 100 deaths were documented across Bengal with links to SIR-related stress — suicides among voters who received deletion notices, and among field staff overwhelmed by impossible workloads. These are not aberrations. The are a pattern.

Bhabanipur Is Not Spared

The SIR has reached even the constituency of Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee. In Bhabanipur, 44,000 names were excluded in earlier rounds. A further 14,000 were placed under adjudication, with 2,000 flagged for discrepancies. In a constituency of 2.6 lakh voters, nearly one in five now faces some form of disenfranchisement.

The figure is significant not just politically, but symbolically: even in the heart of the ruling party's most prominent seat, the SIR's reach has proven indiscriminate.

A Constitutional Void

What the SIR has created is not merely an electoral problem. It is a constitutional one.

India's Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that the right to vote, while statutory in origin, is foundational to the democratic structure. Yet millions of voters now exist in a legal no-man's land: their names suspended, no reasons furnished, no appellate tribunals functioning despite court directions to establish them, and elections weeks away.

The situation has produced an absurdity with no precedent. Sitting MLAs and candidates from BJP, TMC, and CPI(M) have been found in the "Under Adjudication" category. The question this raises — can a person contest an election in which they are not permitted to vote? — has been posed to no authority. None has answered.

The Calcutta High Court has been engaged at various stages. The Supreme Court has acknowledged a "trust deficit" between the state government and the Election Commission. The process has continued regardless — unresolved and unaccountable.

Politics Behind the Purge

For BJP, the SIR was never purely administrative. Senior leader Sukanta Majumdar said publicly that the revision was intended to "cleanse" the rolls ahead of 2026. The language of infiltration and illegal migration has run alongside the technical language of electoral revision throughout the process.

But empirical analysis complicates the narrative. Researchers examining the deletion lists have found that surnames like "Saha" and "Kumar" — associated with Hindu communities — appear in significant numbers. In Kolkata Port constituency, 60% of deleted voters were non-Muslim. The supposed mass presence of "infiltrator voters" is largely absent from the data.

The fallout has reached BJP's own base. In Gaighata, a constituency dominated by the Matua community — refugees from Bangladesh who have been promised citizenship under the Citizenship Amendment Act or CAA — 14.51% of voters were found unmapped, among the highest rates in the state. The community that was told CAA would secure their citizenship is now finding its members caught in the same adjudicatory limbo as the Muslims the process was ostensibly designed to scrutinise.

The Centre's decision to establish fast-track CAA courts just days after the SIR list was released has deepened suspicion that disenfranchisement and "citizenship rescue" are being politically sequenced — a carrot-and-stick delivered simultaneously.

The Midnight List

The timing of the March 23 release was not an operational accident. Midnight drops of lists determining the voting rights of crore of people, portals that crash hours after going live, "logical discrepancy" flags with no accompanying definition, 15-day reapplication windows with elections imminent — these are not glitches in the system. They are the system.

The ECI was constituted to protect the franchise. In West Bengal, through the SIR, it has administered a process that has suspended millions from exercising it — disproportionately from one community, without explanation, without recourse, and with no time remaining to set things right before polling day.

A weaver in Domkol, a BLO in Bashirhat, a resident of the Chief Minister's own constituency — none of them know if they will be allowed to vote. Elections begin in four weeks.

Democracy is not merely the act of voting. It is the guarantee that one can. In Bengal, that guarantee has been broken

Saturday, March 28, 2026

 

‘Don’t Kill Us’: Unheard Voices of India's Manual Scavengers, Sanitation Workers



Firaaq 




In a recent protest action in Delhi, Bezwada Wilson of SKA accused the government of hiding sewer death figures, stating that 41 workers had died in 2026 alone so far.

New Delhi: "Don't kill us." These lines were written on dark blue bands tied around the heads of every protester in Delhi’s Jantar Mantar on March 25. They became the collective voice of hundreds of people—most of them family members of those who died due to manual scavenging, a practice that is not only inhumane but also “illegal” under Indian law, yet continues to exist in India today.

On March 16, during the Budget Session of Parliament, in response to a question by Samajwadi Party MP Iqra Hasan to the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment regarding sewer deaths and rehabilitation of manual scavengers, the Union government reported that 622 sanitation workers had died in sewers and septic tanks in India over the past nine years.

In response to these numbers, organisations working on the ground on issues of manual scavenging and workers’ rights alleged that the Union government was hiding the actual figures. Safai Karamchari Andolan (SKA), led by human rights activist Bezwada Wilson, issued a press release on March 24, stating that 41 sanitation workers had died in 2026 alone so far, accusing the government of concealing the truth. The organisation gave a call for a protest at Jantar Mantar.

Sanitation workers or safai karamcharis, activists from 10 states, and family members of workers who died in sewers and septic tanks joined the protest in large numbers.

One of the protesters, Mangal, a resident of Delhi, shared how his father died in a septic tank in 2015, when he was just 18 years old. “My father, Ramkripal, was only 45 years old when he died because of manual scavenging”, he said. Life became extremely difficult for Mangal and his family after that. His mother died two years later due to hypertension and blood pressure issues.

As the eldest child, Mangal had to stop his education and start working to feed his six siblings. “I worked as a labourer, as a waiter, and now I currently work with Zepto,” he said. Mangal shared how his family received no support from the government, and that it was only later that activists from SKA reached out to him and offered solidarity.

He did not lose hope. He came to the protest not only because his father was a victim of an exploitative and casteist system, but also for sanitation workers who are still struggling for basic human rights—the rights his father never received during his lifetime.

Subhash, a member of SKA from Ludhiana, Punjab, shared how the Aam Aadmi Party government had earlier regularised sanitation workers in the city, and their salaries were paid by the municipal corporation. However, last year, the Municipal Corporation of Ludhiana handed over sanitation work to a private company. Since then, approximately 3,500 sanitation workers have become contractual workers, earning a minimum monthly wage of ₹10,000–12,000.

Subash also shared how one sanitation worker was removed from his job without being paid his salary dues.

Another worker, Vishal from Ludhiana, spoke about being forced into unpaid overtime. “There are no fixed timings. Sometimes I have to go to work as early as 6 a.m., and other times as late as 10 or 11 p.m.,” he said, adding, “I don’t get any safety equipment. The government promised machines, but it never happened.” When asked about holidays, Vishal said, “Technically I get Saturdays and Sundays off, but most of the time I am still asked to work on Sundays.”

Maangne se haq bhala kisko mila hai? Cheen lo haq agar honsla hai,” (You have to snatch your rights, pleading for rights has never worked)  one of the protesters recited these lines, reflecting their anger at the indifference of the Indian government and the failure of the State to recognise the existence of manual scavengers.

The National Commission for Safai Karamcharis received 842 complaints in 2025 regarding serious issues such as non-payment of wages, denial of safety equipment, and caste-based discrimination.

The irony writes itself. While sanitation workers were protesting in the national capital for a dignified life and against the systemic killing of workers, just 440 km away in Kanpur, two sanitation workers lost their lives in a septic tank.

The anger over denial and neglect was also expressed by the protesters in a memorandum issued to the Prime Minister by SKA: “On 19 March, the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment once again made the shocking and callous claim that there are no deaths due to manual scavenging. This is not just a denial—it is a deliberate erasure of our lives.”

The memorandum further raised the issue of the government allegedly hiding the actual number of deaths. It stated: “In 2023, Safai Karamchari Andolan documented 102 deaths; the minister reported only 65 to Parliament. In 2024, we recorded 116 deaths, but the official figure dropped to 54. In 2025, SKA recorded 121 deaths, but the ministry reduced the number to a mere 46. This year, in less than three months, 41 persons have already been killed inside sewers and septic tanks.”

The Indian government claims that India is now the third-largest economy in the world and is moving toward achieving the dream of “Viksit Bharat” (Developed India). But the most crucial question remains: whose India?

Will workers like Ramkripal, and the thousands of sanitation workers who died while cleaning the sewage of this country—workers whose existence the State has refused to fully recognise—be a part of this “Viksit” India?

In a country like India, where people are forced to protest not for special rights but for the basic right to a dignified life, where they must urge the government, “Don’t kill us,” society must pause and reflect.

Before moving toward a “Viksit Bharat,” perhaps we must first strive for a dignified India—an India where people are not forced to risk their lives just to feed their loved ones; an India where no one has to plead with the state to simply stay alive; and, most importantly, an India where people are not reduced to forgotten numbers, but are recognised as citizens who live with dignity.

Firaaq is a Delhi-based independent journalist and former scholar of human rights from the University of Punjab. He has worked with the Hindi language weekly, Nutan Charcha.

Additional field work by Mouli Sharma, a Delhi-based independent journalist.

 

Delhi: Sanitation Workers Protest Against Unabated Sewer, Septic Tank Deaths


Raj Valmiki 





In a memorandum to the Prime Minister, SKA has demanded a “national apology” for the sewer deaths and continuation of caste-based oppression.


New Delhi: Under the banner “Stop Killing Us”, sanitation workers gathered at Jantar Mantar on March 25, 2026, demanding an end to the unabated deaths inside sewers and septic tanks. The protest, organised by the Safai Karmachari Andolan (SKA), brought together workers from 10 states, including families who had lost loved ones while cleaning sewers.

Just a short distance from the swanky new Parliament building, the demonstrators raised slogans: “Stop Killing Us”, “End Deaths in Sewers and Septic Tanks” and “Prime Minister, Apologise to the Nation”.

The protest was both an expression of grief and anger, and a demand for justice.

A National Shame

In an era of advanced technology and artificial intelligence, India can send missions to the moon, yet it has failed to develop machines to clean sewers safely. Citizens are still being sent into the “death traps” underground.

The Constitution guarantees every citizen the Right to Live with Dignity (RL-21), but sanitation workers are being denied this fundamental right.

Instead of preventing these deaths, the government has been accused of manipulating statistics to hide the scale of the tragedy. In just the first 80 days of 2026, 41 sanitation workers have died in sewers. According to SKA, 121 workers died in 2025, while government figures claim only 46.

Despite being illegal, manual scavenging continues in states like Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Bihar, and Jammu & Kashmir. Ministers insist the practice has been eradicated, but SKA calls this a “blatant lie.” The movement has been fighting against this injustice for over 40 years.

Voices from the Protest

At the Janta Mantar rally, SKA’s national convener and Ramon Magsaysay Award winner Bezwada Wilson stated:
“Already 41 people have died this year in sewers, yet the government remains silent, as if our lives and deaths mean nothing. Because of casteist attitudes, our people are being pushed into these death traps, and no one has ever been punished for these killings, even though the law clearly prohibits sending humans into sewers.”

SKA leader Deepthi Sukumar questioned why the government consistently under-reported deaths. “In 2025, SKA recorded 121 deaths, but the government reported only 46. In 2024, SKA counted 116 deaths, while the government claimed 55. Where are the missing numbers? Parliament must be told the truth.”

The families of victims also shared their pain and demanded urgent action to stop these deaths. SKA leaders from various states, including Luvjinder Kaur, Seema Khairwal, Neelam, Poonam, Anchal, Pooja, Usha Sagar, Rajkumar, Subhash, Amar Singh, Prakash, and Mayank, highlighted how government and local administrations continued to operate with caste-based discrimination.


Demands Presented to the Prime Minister

After the rally, the SKA submitted a memorandum to the Prime Minister, demanding a “national apology” for the sewer deaths and the continuation of caste-based oppression. They called for a time-bound action plan to eliminate sewer deaths, liberate manual scavengers, and ensure full rehabilitation.

The key demands include:

  • A national apology from the Prime Minister for sewer and septic tank deaths.
  • Accurate figures of deaths to be presented to the nation.
  • A time-bound national action plan to immediately stop sewer deaths.
  • Guarantee of RL-21 — the right to live with dignity — for sanitation workers.
  • Accountability and action against senior government officials responsible for these deaths. 

The writer is affiliated with Safai Karmachari Andolan.


 

Kill Chain: Silicon Valley, AI, and War on Iran



Bappa Sinha 



The traditional process of military targeting, what the Pentagon calls the “kill chain”, historically required teams of thousands of intelligence analysts poring over imagery, cross-referencing reports, and building target packages over days or weeks. Now it’s done in seconds.


US-Israeli attacks on areas west of Tehran 8 Avash on March 7, 2026. Photo: Avash Media

On February 28, 2026, the United States and Israel launched Operation Epic Fury, striking 1,000 targets in Iran within the first 24 hours. By mid-March, the number had crossed 6,000. Behind this staggering pace of destruction lay not just the familiar arsenal of Tomahawk missiles, B-2 stealth bombers and carrier-based fighters, but a new weapon in the imperial toolkit: artificial intelligence. The US military’s own AI strategy document puts it with brutal clarity: “speed wins” and “the risks of not moving fast enough outweigh the risks of imperfect alignment.” What this means in practice is that the Pentagon has decided that killing faster matters more than killing accurately.

It is worth stating at the outset that artificial intelligence, as a technology, has enormous potential for human progress in healthcare, climate science, material discovery, and planning for human needs. The issue is not AI itself. The issue is what happens when this technology is placed in the hands of an imperial war machine that has, across decades, perfected the machinery of death while systematically dismantling every legal and ethical constraint on its use.

The AI kill chain

The core of the US military’s AI deployment in Iran is a system called the Maven Smart System, built by the war-technology corporation Palantir and incorporating the large language model Claude, developed by Anthropic. Maven consolidates what were previously eight or nine separate intelligence and targeting systems into a single digital platform. It ingests data from satellite imagery, drone video feeds, signals intelligence – intercepted phone calls, text messages, internet surveillance – radar, and human intelligence reports. Machine learning algorithms then process this vast ocean of data to identify and prioritize potential targets, recommend appropriate weaponry, and even evaluate the legal grounds for a strike.

First, there is the question of scale. The traditional process of military targeting, what the Pentagon calls the “kill chain”, historically required teams of thousands of intelligence analysts poring over imagery, cross-referencing reports, and building target packages over days or weeks. During the Second World War, the aerial targeting cycle from intelligence collection to assembled strike package took weeks or even months. A Georgetown University investigation found that in the US Army’s 18th Airborne Corps, AI had already reduced a team of 2,000 intelligence analysts to just 20. Craig Jones, a senior lecturer at Newcastle University and expert on kill chains, put it starkly: AI is making targeting recommendations “much quicker in some ways than the speed of thought.” The assassination-style strikes that killed Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei were reportedly executed within 60 seconds of identification.

Then there is the matter of what this speed means for civilian lives. David Leslie, professor of ethics at Queen Mary University of London, has warned that reliance on AI produces “cognitive off-loading” – human decision-makers feel detached from the consequences of a strike because the analytical labor has been performed by a machine. When the Maven system generates a target recommendation, the human officer reviewing it has, in Leslie’s words, “a much narrower time band to evaluate the recommendation.” The system produces options; the human rubber-stamps them. The fiction of “human-in-the-loop” decision-making, the claim that humans always make the final call, collapses under the sheer velocity of the process.

The Iran war has already produced what may be the most devastating consequence of AI-assisted targeting: the bombing of the Shajareh Tayyebeh elementary school in Minab on the very first day of the war. A US Tomahawk cruise missile struck the school, killing at least 170 people, most of them schoolgirls. The school was located adjacent to an Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) compound. According to a preliminary investigation reported by the New York Times, US Central Command officers “created the target coordinates for the strike using outdated data provided by the Defense Intelligence Agency.” Satellite imagery analyzed by news organizations shows that the school was fenced off from the military compound between 2013 and 2016, a fact that was either missed or never updated in the targeting database. Over 120 members of Congress have demanded to know whether Maven and its AI systems were used to identify the school as a target.

The competing explanations for the school bombing are themselves revealing. Some sources suggest AI failed to identify the school as a civilian object, classifying it instead as part of the military compound. Others argue this was a human intelligence failure, analysts working with decade-old data. The Semafor news outlet reported that publicly available Iranian business listings showed the school’s location, and a simple internet search could have prevented the massacre. Whether the blame lies with the algorithm or the analyst, the systemic conclusion is the same: the drive for speed in targeting, accelerated enormously by AI, compresses the space for careful verification to the vanishing point. When you are striking 1,000 targets in 24 hours, the time available to check whether a building is a school or a barracks approaches zero. And of course, the possibility of deliberate criminality – that the US-Israeli war machine simply does not care about civilian casualties – cannot be excluded. US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth has openly stated that the military’s aim is “maximum lethality, not tepid legality.”

War as logistics and AI as logistics engine

AI’s role extends well beyond target selection. Modern warfare is, at its core, a logistics problem of immense complexity. Coordinating Tomahawk launches from naval vessels, stealth bomber sorties, drone operations, aerial refuelling, munitions management, and damage assessment – all simultaneously across multiple theaters – is exactly the data-intensive coordination problem AI is supposed to solve. Maven reportedly recommends specific weaponry for each target, accounting for stockpiles and previous munitions performance. AI runs “what if” operational simulations, allowing planners to evaluate courses of action in minutes rather than days. The Pentagon spent USD 11.3 billion in the first six days alone.

Then there is the political economy of AI warfare. Palantir, the company behind Maven, has seen its market capitalization approach USD 360 billion on the strength of military contracts. The Pentagon awarded Palantir an initial Maven contract worth USD 480 million in 2024, expanded to USD 1.3 billion by 2025, and has now made Maven an official program of record. The US Army separately awarded Palantir a contract worth up to USD 10 billion. AI warfare is now a major profit center for Silicon Valley, creating a powerful constituency with a direct financial interest in perpetual conflict.

The Gaza precedent and the systemic logic

AI use in the Iran war did not emerge from nowhere. Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza provided the testing ground. The Israeli military deployed AI systems called Lavender and Gospel to identify targets, programmed to accept up to 100 civilian casualties for a single strike on a suspected Hamas combatant. Over 75,000 Palestinians have been killed since October 2023. What was tested in Gaza has now been scaled up against Iran.

The parallels with earlier imperial warfare are instructive. In the Vietnam War, the Igloo White automated targeting system was regularly deceived by decoys. In 1988, the US Navy’s Aegis cruiser shot down Iran Air Flight 655, killing 290 civilians, because personnel, working under pressure with the automated Aegis combat system, misidentified a civilian airliner. In 1999, intelligence failures led US stealth bombers to strike the Chinese embassy in Belgrade. At every stage, the automation of warfare has produced catastrophic errors; at every stage, the imperial powers have pressed forward regardless.

What is new is the scale. The infrastructure now being built – Maven deployed across all six military branches, the GenAI.mil platform for classified networks, over 20,000 active users across 35 military tools – is the permanent architecture of algorithmic warfare. Meanwhile, the Trump administration has systematically dismantled every civilian protection mechanism. Military lawyers who advised on international law compliance have been sidelined and fired. The Iranian Red Crescent reports over 85,000 civilian buildings and 300 healthcare facilities damaged.

The emerging reality of AI warfare is not a verdict on the technology. It is a verdict on imperialism. When it is deployed under the logic of imperial capitalism, it becomes what it has become in Iran: a machine for killing faster, at greater scale, with less accountability, and with enormous profits for the corporations that build it. The 170 dead children of Shajareh Tayyebeh school are not a bug in the system. Under the logic of “maximum lethality, not tepid legality,” they are the defining feature.

Courtesy: Peoples Dispatch